Barry Manilow is trying to kill me...

“Now at the At the Copa, Copacabana, the hottest spot north of Havana” has been running through my head since we landed here in Rio. I was a young, very young, child when this song hit the chart – this explains why the aforementioned is the only line I know. And this is how I learnt that the only thing more tragic than having a Barry Manilow song trapped in your head is having only one line to a Barry Manilow song trapped in your head. It just kept repeating and repeating itself due to the constant exposure to the word “Copacabana” – like an old-fashioned record skipping. Torturous really.

I have always found that the way to cure a food craving is to indulge a little…not too much, just enough to take the focus away. Following that logic, I thought a trip to the famed Copacabana Beach would help remove all traces of the mental anguish that has plagued me in Rio.

Over 4 km of white sand meet the Pacific Ocean to form one of the best known and beautiful beaches in the world. The beach certainly lived up to the hype – red umbrellas dotted the sand while sun bathers in teeny bikinis did their very best to avoid them. Vendors wandered the beach selling everything from sarongs to coconuts with straws. Leila and I, not at all in beach appropriate attire, stuck out like a sore thumbs while sandcastles and impromptu volleyball games popped up around us.

After a few minutes we retreated off the hot sand to the safety of the iconic Copacabana promenade, where our volume of clothing was marginally more acceptable. And as we strolled along the waver patterned white and black tile path, one thing popped into my mind…”now at the Copa….”