Augusto Ivan de Freitas Pinheiro and Eliane Canedo
Research and contributions: Cristiane Titoneli
Arrival of the ‘Angelfish’
At the beginning, everything was a vast tract of wetlands around a few low hills, surrounded by swamps, mangroves and lagoons. Like faraway frames, cordilleras were formed by rocky massifs, mountains blanketed in dense tropical forests and high ranges in the distance. In that long-ago year of 1502, this terrain offered such massive challenges that surmounting them was almost unimaginable.
Sprawling along these wetlands and in the foothills below their sharp peaks was a huge bay that the local tribespeople called Guanabara. Although later discovering that this was not the mouth of a broad river or estuary, the Portuguese newcomers called it São Sebastião do Rio de Janeiro, paying tribute to King Sebastian I of Portugal and the month – January – in which they first laid eyes on these new lands.
The local tribes called these new arrivals cariocas: cari-oca (white man’s house) or acarás (angelfish whose thick scales resembled their armor). This nickname – carioca – still remains in use today, despite these doubts over its origins.
Portuguese caravels dropped anchor off the small beach dominated by the massive rock whose shape recalled a sugarloaf, giving it a Portuguese name: Pão de Açúcar. Under the command of Gaspar de Lemos, this exploratory mission was sailing along the almost unknown Brazilian coastline. This was the first time that white men set foot on these lands. Having travelled for eight long months from Portugal, they were faced by the scene where everything was overwhelming: crystal clear water, dense rainforests, soaring rockfaces, mountains, searing sunlight, scented blossoms, fierce animals, vivid birds, torrential rainfall and the nudity of the local people.
In the tangles of the virgin forests there are also people seeking a safe place, far away from Europe, exiling the monster of fear caused by restless wanderers. Maps are drawn where strange beasts roam the shores of Brazil. But it is there that thoughts are dominated by discovering samples of this earthly paradise, relics of an Eden cared for by men who had already lost everything. It seemed as though the kingdom of Utopia was located in the Rio de Janeiro Bay.1
An enormous bay with calm waters, framed by small beaches with blindingly white sands, rugged rocks, tidal pools, curves and enchanting islands. This was the ideal location for protecting this new Portuguese colony from foreign invasions, establishing a safe and peaceful port that provided good mooring facilities south of the Equator, and could also be used to ship out local goods.
With port activities thriving, the fate of this bay was to be bound forever to the destiny of the city during the subsequent centuries. This was why the town was transferred to the Morro do Castelo hill only two years after it was established in 1565, at the foot of the Sugarloaf and the Morro Cara de Cão hill.
This position was easier for the military to defend, with better conditions for vessels shipping goods in (and even more cargoes out), sheltering the city from the Atlantic Ocean. This brought it closer to the areas where the earliest treasures were ripped from its soil, particularly blood-red brazilwood, rich whale hunting and sweet sugarcane (although only later). Its bounteous wealth was highly desirable and apparently endless.