I Flew to Brazil for Three Days at Christmas and Discovered Copacabana Is Much Harder Work Than It Looks

Most people spend Christmas eating too much, arguing with relatives and pretending they'll join a gym in January.

I flew to Brazil.

Not for two weeks. Not for ten days. Three days.

When I tell people this, they usually assume I've forgotten part of the story. Surely nobody flies from the UK to South America for less time than some people spend decorating a Christmas tree.

Yet that's exactly what happened.

A ludicrously cheap flight appeared, common sense briefly left the room and before I knew it I was heading towards Rio de Janeiro for what might be the world's least efficient Christmas holiday.

Looking back, it was completely ridiculous. Which is probably why it was brilliant.

The Copacabana Problem Nobody Talks About

Like most people, I'd seen Copacabana Beach countless times on television, films, travel programmes, postcards and music videos.The beach always looks effortless. Everybody appears attractive, athletic and perfectly comfortable wandering around in swimwear while playing volleyball and generally looking like they belong in a tourism campaign.

Then I arrived.

Suddenly the beach felt less like a tropical paradise and more like a public fitness assessment.

Walking along Copacabana became an exercise in stomach management. Every time somebody walked past looking impossibly athletic, I'd instinctively pull my stomach in. Then they'd disappear into the distance and I'd release it again. This continued for several kilometres.

By the end of the afternoon, my abdominal muscles had received more exercise than they had during the previous six months. Nobody tells you about this in the guidebooks.

Attempting To Blend In

My initial strategy was simple. Act natural. This lasted approximately seven minutes.

Brazilians have a wonderfully relaxed confidence about them. People jog, cycle, surf, play football and volleyball with an ease that makes everything look effortless. Meanwhile, I was sweating while attempting to walk in a straight line. The contrast was noticeable.

I briefly considered buying sunglasses and adopting a more sophisticated holiday persona. Unfortunately, sophisticated people don't spend half their time checking whether they're accidentally standing in the path of beach volleyball games. Reality quickly reasserted itself.

The Volleyball Incident

Then disaster struck or opportunity depending on your perspective.

While walking along this famous beach, I was invited to join a volleyball game. Now, there are moments in life where honesty is important. This was probably one of them. Instead, I smiled confidently and accepted. The trouble was that I hadn't played volleyball since I was about twelve years old. Even then, "played" may be overstating the situation. My volleyball career consisted largely of standing in the wrong place and apologising whenever the ball approached.

Nothing had changed. The first serve arrived. I missed it entirely. The second contact involved a body part not traditionally associated with volleyball. The third somehow travelled backwards. At one point I managed to send the ball towards a group of unsuspecting beachgoers who had been enjoying a perfectly peaceful afternoon until I arrived. The locals were remarkably polite. I suspect they interpreted my performance as a cultural exchange programme.

The Beer Arrives

Thankfully, Brazil possesses a solution for many problems. Beer.

The first thing I noticed was how cold it was. Not cold by British standards. Not cold by European standards. Properly cold. The sort of cold where condensation forms instantly and the bottle feels as though it has recently been recovered from an Antarctic expedition. After several hours on the beach, it was magnificent.

The beer culture felt wonderfully relaxed. Beach kiosks, bars and restaurants all seemed to understand the importance of keeping drinks close to freezing point. It was one of those simple details that immediately improves your relationship with a country.

I became an enthusiastic supporter of the Brazilian refrigeration industry.

Discovering Brazilian Wine

Most people associate Brazil with cocktails and beer. I certainly did but what surprised me was the wine.

Being a wine merchant, I can't visit a country without becoming curious about local wine production. It's probably some kind of professional condition. While everybody else is admiring landmarks, I'm usually asking awkward questions about the local booze.

Brazil turned out to have a surprisingly interesting wine scene. The wines coming from the south of the country were genuinely enjoyable and considerably better than I'd expected. Some were fresh and vibrant, others richer and more complex. The real surprise wasn't the quality. It was how few people outside Brazil seemed aware of it.

Wine tourism is full of hidden gems. Brazil might be one of the most overlooked.

Christmas, But Completely Wrong

One thing that's difficult for a British person to process is Christmas in tropical heat. My brain simply wasn't equipped for it.Back home, Christmas means cold weather, dark afternoons and people arguing about how long leftovers remain safe to eat and if everyone should watch Strictly Come Dancing. In Rio, people were wearing shorts. The sun was shining. The beach was packed. Palm trees swayed in the breeze while Christmas decorations sat nearby looking thoroughly confused. The entire experience felt like somebody had accidentally mixed together two completely different holidays.

I loved it.

Why Short Trips Can Be Brilliant

The funny thing about travelling somewhere for only three days is that everything feels intensified. There's no time to waste. No lazy afternoons deciding what to do. No opportunities to postpone experiences until tomorrow. You arrive. You explore. You make the most of every hour.

By the end of the trip I'd walked miles along Copacabana, embarrassed myself at volleyball, discovered Brazilian wine and developed strong opinions regarding the correct serving temperature of beer.

Not bad for seventy-two hours.

It's proof that you don't always need weeks away to have an adventure. Sometimes all you need is a cheap flight and questionable judgement.

The Journey Home

Eventually it was time to leave. This felt unfair. I'd barely arrived before I was heading back to the airport. As the plane climbed away from Rio, I looked down at the beaches, mountains and sprawling city below and wondered whether the entire trip had been slightly ridiculous. The answer was obvious.

Of course it was.

Flying halfway around the world for three days is not the behaviour of a sensible person. Then again, sensible people rarely end up with interesting stories.

What Brazil Taught Me

Brazil taught me several important lessons.

First, Copacabana Beach is considerably less intimidating once you stop trying to hold your stomach in every five minutes.

Second, accepting invitations to beach volleyball games should come with a disclaimer regarding previous experience.

Third, Brazilian beer is best served at temperatures normally associated with cryogenic preservation.

And finally, some of the best adventures happen when you stop worrying about efficiency.

A travel accountant would probably look at my three-day Christmas trip and suffer a small breakdown. A traveller would understand immediately as sometimes the point isn't how long you spend somewhere. It's the story you bring home.

And if that story involves volleyball-related humiliation, almost-frozen beer and Christmas beneath palm trees, so much the better.