For the first two days in Rio de Janeiro , the same phrase kept popping into my head: Rio is the pits. The more I saw of this crazy city, the more my phrase rang true. Every time I felt totally unsafe on the dirty streets, every time I passed whole communities of homeless people sleeping on the hard ground, and every time I tried to breathe in fresh air through the humidity and was met with the mind-blowing stench of urine instead. There are some smells here that really will outlast religion.

But I´ve since discovered a nicer side to Rio - the optimism of the cariocas (Rio locals) who are at the moment celebrating their beloved Carnaval, and some of the more astounding sights, such as the view from Corcavado mountain, where the Cristo Redeemer statue stands, his arms spread over the largest city scape I´ve ever seen. But I´ll start at the beginning of our Rio adventure.

Tim and I arrived at the kitsch Galeao Airport to discover the airline had lost Tim´s bag somewhere in Buenos Aires . Because he´d lost a bag before en route to Italy , Tim immediately farewelled his carefully packed bag and didn´t believe the airport workers when they said it would be at our hotel the next day.

So we took our lighter load and our embarrassingly poor Portuguese and managed to get on a bus which took us through the terrifying Rio streets, derelict and scary in the middle of the night. As the bus hurtled along at its manic speed I got my first glimpse of Rio´s famous favelas (slums). Makeshift buildings are packed into a tight community which seems to never end. I couldn´t believe how many miles they went on for. They are incredibly run down but many of the houses have power and as the bus drives high above the favelas, you can look right in as if you´re watching Brazilians characters in a very rough version of Coronation Street . I was dumbfounded by the favelas but began to understand why Rio is such a violent and unruly city.

We were terrified on this first bus trip and the idea of getting off in some of the streets we passed was too scary for words. When we finally did get to our hotel, in the acute;´less-than-desirable´´ area of Centro, we were relieved to see the area was much nicer than those we´d passed.´ Not nearly as horrific as I´d imagined.

But was totally horrific was our ´four star´hotel room. Tiny beyond belief and last decorated in the 1960s, I couldn´t believe this would be home for the next five nights. Our TV blew up on the first night when we were laughing at Brazilian soap operas and the toilet throws water all over us when we flush it.

But we´re not too bothered. The hotel feels safe, which is more than I can say for the streets. Coming from Auckland , it´s a bizarre feeling to be so aware of who is beside you on the street and of what youre carrying. On the first morning we ventured out, I was so paranoid of everybody I passed, but I have since calmed down.

I will write again about our first experience of Carnaval (most fun) and our trip to Corcavado Mountain . And stay tuned for some cool photos, once I can download them - the hotel computer won´t let me. Catch you soon.

Check out the photos in my Flickr album.