I’ve tried to write a poem about Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, writing just this first sentence I feel like a dil.

Rocking up at the airport I was pretty shifty, loads of the pickpockets move pretty swiftly.

None of the ATMs would let me withdraw any cash, I soon gave up because I had to take a lash.
After learning to use my travel money card at one particular Brazil bank, I was stoked with success so I celebrated with a drank.

Copacabana and Ipanema there were no waves, I also didn’t see any caves.
Walking along the beaches I got pretty badly sunburnt, applying sunscreen is a lesson I still haven’t learnt.

Out in the distance was Christ the Redeemer, going up to see it I couldn’t have been keener.
Unfortunately for me the visibility was poor, as the thick grey clouds is all I saw.

On a city tour the other tourists learnt a bit, like a reverse kanga in Australia when you’re having a …. poo.
They believed my job was to shoo away the roos off the Harbour Bridge, it was almost as though they’ve been raised by a fridge.

Chrissy day I didn’t do much, went to a fast food joint with some Venezualian blokes for lunch. Missing Chrissy at home made me a bit upset, but swimming at Copacabana beach made me soon forget.

My impression of Rio de Janeiro reminded me of a much better version of Surfers Paradise, a connection that just doesn’t suffice.

I’m definitely coming back here but next time with mates, I’m sure this joint would change many of their fates.

I tried to rhyme and I agree it’s pretty bad, unfortunately no jokes this time that would label me a dad.

Twenty hour bus ride until Florianopolis, hopefully there I can better my skills to become the hiphopopotamus and rhymenoceros.