Column: On eve of Olympics, indifference of locals is evident in all corners of Rio de Janeiro
Yes, yes, yes, says the smiling, gap-toothed man standing in front of his cluttered food stand, he would love to talk about the Olympics.
He turns down the volume on a giant black speaker blaring samba music into the cobblestone alley. He steps away from the plastic sheet advertising “Cachorro Quente’’ and “Misto Quente.’’
And then, still smiling, he rips.
“The Olympics do nothing for me, nothing for our city,’’ he says. “There is no benefit here to anyone but big business. It doesn’t help us, it hurts us.’’
He introduces himself as Pedro Paula, but says he goes by a nickname that translates to, “My Dear.’’
Those Olympics to which he is referring are opening Friday night at Maracana Stadium during what is certain to be a colorful, emotional ceremony celebrating a lovely, friendly city that, to be completely honest, wants nothing to do with it.
“I’m not watching,’’ Paula says brightly. “I don’t care.’’
My dear.
::
From the shimmering sands of Recreio Beach to the crowded alleys of the Rocinha favela, the conversations on a warm and breezy Thursday were virtually the same.
Ask a local what they think about the Olympics and they will smile, they will laugh, then they will trash.
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The government brought in this big Olympic party. And the party has become a mess.
— Noe Oliveira
It happened on the sands of one of Rio’s famed beaches, two young women sunning in bikinis made of what appeared to be latex tightrope, both of them yawning at the mere idea.
“The Olympics just aren’t necessary right now,’’ said Mariana Tonini, 22.
“Brazil has more important things to worry about,’ said Alessandra Occhioni, 21.
Both said they would not bother watching but hoped to have some involvement with the Games.
“We’ll be visiting the Jamaica house, of course,’’ Tonini said with a party twinkle.
A similar opinion was heard in one of Rio’s famous shantytowns, where Jose Duarte stood behind the counter of his Rochino auto parts store, stared into the honking madness of the narrow and winding street outside and stuck out his hands.
“Our country has been in a crisis,’’ he said. “The Olympics finished breaking it.’’
The local sentiment can be calculated in more than just chatter. The initial box office numbers are in, and these Olympics are bombing before their opening weekend.
The six women’s soccer matches that marked the unofficial beginning of the Games on Wednesday drew baseball spring training crowds to giant football stadiums, resulting in widely viewed photos of large swatches of empty seats.
The Rio 2016 Olympic organizing committee recognized a problem and gave away nearly a quarter-million tickets to underprivileged youth in an effort to fill up the stands.
Noe Oliveira, who spends his life in the fastest of lanes as one of the famed motorbike drivers who navigate the winding hills of Rochina, knows a crash when he sees one.
“The government brought in this big Olympic party,’’ he said. “And the party has become a mess.’’
Part of the Olympic indifference is due to a countrywide hangover from the 2014 World Cup, which featured a legendary embarrassment of the famed Brazilian soccer team. It’s as if the folks here are just not ready to throw another worldwide sporting party at their expense.
“We’re still thinking a little bit about 7-1,’’ said Duarte, referring to the score of the Brazilians’ loss to Germany in the semifinals.
Another part of the Olympic indifference appears to be anger and embarrassment over the internal problems that the Olympic invasion is accentuating.
All the Brazilian troubles you’ve been reading about for the last six months? Spend a couple of days here and realize, they’re all real, the people feel them, and many worry that the Olympics is just making them worse.
The dirty water? You can’t always see it, but you can always smell it. In rolling down the car window while passing any of the many beautiful Rio lagoons, a visitor is struck by the faint odor of raw sewage. In driving along one of the many famed beaches, a visitor notices that while many oiled bodies are on the sand, nobody is actually swimming.
“Today, not one person has talked to me about the Olympics,’’ said Ronaldo Lopes, owner of an oceanside food stand. “There’s too much else to worry about.’’
The crime? Reams of numbing police reports — just this week, Chinese journalists were caught in crossfire and Swedish tourists were kidnapped — are made more real during a late-night ride Wednesday with an Uber driver.
The guy blew through almost every red light. Never slowed down, never apologized, and the only time he truly stopped it was because he was lost and looking for directions. At that point, the car was suddenly shadowed by a teenage soldier carrying what appeared to be an assault rifle.
“The country spends money for the Olympics yet crime is everywhere,’’ Tonini said at the beach. “We know girls who have been raped. Everybody does.’’
Then there is the Zika virus outbreak, spread throughout Brazil by mosquitos. Because this is Brazil’s late winter, the mosquitoes aren’t as evident, but the locals aren’t taking any chances.
“I’m covered in bug spray,’’ said Stella Paiva Brunacci, looking up from her beach chair. “I’m always covered in bug spray.’’
Finally, of course, there is the traffic. The Olympics not only brought more visitors to an already gridlocked area, but special Olympic lanes for official vehicles — including media buses — have turned travel into a nightmare.
Angelenos who think the 405 is bad should check out the two-lane road running past the Olympic park, where shirtless guys walk alongside sputtering cars. People literally fall asleep at the wheel of their halted vehicles, only to be awakened by blaring horns at the first sign of movement.
“Used to take me 20 minutes to get to work, now it takes an hour and twenty minutes,’’ said Tatiana Andrade, a waitress at the restaurant at the foot of the Rocinha favela. “They said the Olympics would be so good for the people, but it’s been nothing but bad for the people.’’
Every two years, Olympic opening ceremonies have a way of uniting locals who often are opposed to the gigantic pain that they bring to their town, and so it might happen again.
Then again, maybe not. When the celebrated Olympic torch relay reached Rio on Wednesday, it did so in the face of angry protesters who were subdued with stun grenades and tear gas.
“Yes, I will watch the Olympics,’’ the shopkeeper Duarte said with a welcoming laugh and kindly smile. “But only if there is nothing else to do.’’
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