Christ the Redeemer: Jesus Has Seen Some Shit

Brazil has a reputation.

And not the quiet, sensible kind.

This is a country that gave the world Carnival, caipirinhas, tiny swimsuits, football fans who treat losing like a national emergency, motorcycles filtering through traffic like the laws of physics are merely suggestions, and Rio de Janeiro, a city where some of the most expensive real estate on Earth sits within eyesight of neighborhoods tourists are routinely advised not to wander into while staring at Google Maps.

Rio is beautiful.

Rio is chaotic.

Rio can absolutely be dangerous.

And towering above all of this madness is a 98-foot-tall Jesus, standing on top of a mountain with his arms stretched wide as if he’s been watching the whole situation unfold for nearly a century and has finally decided: “You people are on your own.”

DESTINATION: Christ the Redeemer

JESUS HAS THE BEST REAL ESTATE IN RIO

Christ the Redeemer sits atop Corcovado Mountain, roughly 700 meters above Rio de Janeiro.

And apparently the location where 10,000,000,000,000 tourists simultaneously decided they needed the exact same photograph.

And regardless of your religious beliefs, you have to admit Jesus absolutely crushed the real-estate selection.

• Copacabana
• Ipanema
• Sugarloaf Mountain
• Guanabara Bay
• Downtown Rio
• The Atlantic Ocean

Mountains exploding out of the middle of a gigantic city.

From up here, Rio looks almost impossibly beautiful.

Which is particularly impressive considering that somewhere down there, at almost any given moment, somebody is probably telling a tourist: “Seriously. Don’t walk that direction.”

That’s Rio.

The city has this bizarre ability to look like paradise while simultaneously making you reconsider whether bringing your expensive camera equipment was a particularly intelligent life decision.

And as a photographer who routinely travels with expensive camera equipment?

Excellent planning, Sean.

SO… WHY IS THERE A GIANT JESUS UP HERE?

Construction on Christ the Redeemer began in the 1920s, and the monument was completed in 1931.

Brazil was overwhelmingly Catholic at the time, and the statue was intended as a monumental expression of Christianity overlooking Rio.

Which seems slightly excessive.

Most churches just put up a cross.

Brazil apparently looked at an entire mountain and said: “We can do better.”

The finished statue stands about 30 meters tall, with arms stretching roughly 28 meters across. Add the pedestal and you’ve got one enormous Art Deco Jesus staring down at Rio like, “This is exactly why we can’t have nice things.”

I’m not religious.

So I can’t tell you whether standing beneath Christ the Redeemer will trigger some profound spiritual awakening.

It did not happen to me.

No angels appeared.

Nobody handed me stone tablets.

I didn’t suddenly start attending church.

But I did look around and think:

Holy shit, this is impressive.

Which I’m pretty sure still counts as using religious terminology.

GETTING TO JESUS REQUIRES LOGISTICS

You don’t simply stroll up Corcovado.

Thankfully.

Because the mountain is covered in dense Atlantic rainforest, and hiking vertically through Brazil while carrying camera equipment isn’t particularly high on my vacation checklist.

Most visitors reach Christ the Redeemer using the Corcovado Rack Railway, official vans, organized tours, or private transportation connecting with authorized transport farther up the mountain.

The train is probably the most iconic option.

It climbs through Tijuca National Park toward the summit, gradually replacing buildings and traffic with thick tropical forest.

It’s beautiful.

It’s historic.

It’s relaxing.

And it’s carrying you directly toward a tourist density normally associated with evacuation shelters.

Because once you reach the top, any fantasy you had about peacefully contemplating humanity beneath the outstretched arms of Jesus disappears immediately.

Humanity is already there.

All of it.

APPARENTLY EVERYONE ON EARTH IS HERE

There are crowded tourist attractions.

And then there is Christ the Redeemer.

You emerge near the summit expecting some majestic spiritual moment.

Instead:

People.

So. Many. Fucking. People.

People photographing Jesus.

People photographing themselves with Jesus.

People photographing other people photographing themselves with Jesus, because apparently we needed documentation of the documentation.

Entire families attempting synchronized poses like they’re shooting the Christmas card nobody asked for.

Tour groups obediently chasing tiny flags like heavily sunscreened ducklings.

Children ricocheting through the crowd with absolutely no concept of personal space.

Influencers conducting full-scale fashion campaigns while everyone else waits for them to discover humility.

Selfie sticks extending so far into the sky that Brazilian air traffic control should probably be notified.

And approximately 46 people lying flat on the ground trying to fit the entire statue into their phone camera.

That last one is important.

Because Christ the Redeemer is enormous, and the viewing platform isn’t.

Which means getting the classic photograph requires a wide-angle lens, creative positioning, or simply surrendering your dignity and joining everyone else rolling around on the pavement beneath Jesus.

Nothing says profound religious pilgrimage quite like watching a grown man lie on his back screaming:

“MOVE LEFT! LEFT! JESUS IS BEHIND YOU!”

I don’t remember that part from Sunday school.

THE CROWD IS ABSURD. THE VIEW IS WORTH IT.

Here’s the annoying part.

Christ the Redeemer deserves the hype.

I wanted it to be overrated.

That would make writing this much easier.

But then you walk toward the edge of Corcovado and Rio unfolds beneath you.

And holy shit.

The geography of this city makes absolutely no sense.

Mountains rise almost vertically between neighborhoods. Beaches curve around enormous bays. Islands scatter across the water. High-rises push against forests. Roads squeeze between granite peaks and the Atlantic.

In the distance sits Sugarloaf Mountain, another Rio landmark that looks suspiciously like somebody dropped a gigantic loaf of bread beside the ocean.

Below are the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, where humanity collectively decided normal quantities of swimsuit fabric were unnecessary.

And threaded throughout everything are neighborhoods ranging from luxury towers to sprawling favelas climbing hillsides.

Rio isn’t one landscape.

It’s about twelve landscapes involved in some kind of territorial dispute.

From Corcovado, somehow, all of it works.

YES, RIO CAN BE DANGEROUS

We should probably address the giant elephant standing beneath the giant Jesus.

Rio has legitimate crime problems.

This isn’t one of those situations where travel bloggers tell you: “Every city has bad neighborhoods!”

Yes.

Thank you, Karen.

Very helpful.

Rio requires awareness.

Phone theft and opportunistic street crime are real concerns. Certain neighborhoods and favela areas can change dramatically from one block to another. Wandering around distracted while carrying expensive electronics isn’t always the smartest strategy.

And Brazil occasionally produces news stories that make you wonder whether someone accidentally selected Grand Theft Auto difficulty settings during national setup.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t visit.

Millions of people visit Rio and have perfectly normal, incredible trips.

It means you shouldn’t arrive assuming that because Copacabana looks fantastic on Instagram, normal big-city precautions have been temporarily suspended.

Basically:

Enjoy Rio without behaving like an unattended ATM.

PHOTOGRAPHING CHRIST THE REDEEMER IS A CONTACT SPORT

If you’re coming here for photography, go ahead and dramatically lower your expectations of getting that clean, majestic shot of Christ the Redeemer standing peacefully above Rio.

Because apparently every other human being on Earth had the exact same fucking idea.

I tried.

I really did.

I waited for people to move.

Then more people arrived.

I changed angles.

More people.

I waited again.

Someone started posing.

Someone else wandered directly into the frame.

Then an entire family materialized and began what appeared to be a professional Christmas-card shoot beneath Jesus.

Every time I found a composition I liked, another tourist would stroll directly into it and stand there examining their phone like they’d just been assigned that exact spot by the Brazilian government.

Eventually, I was so fucking pissed off at everyone being in my shots that I reached the only reasonable conclusion available: Fuck it. I’m renting a helicopter.

Which, admittedly, is a fairly significant and expensive escalation in the ongoing war between photographers and tourists.

But it worked.

Suddenly there were no selfie sticks.

No tour groups.

No children sprinting through the frame.

No guy standing directly in front of Jesus taking 47 versions of the same selfie.

Just Christ the Redeemer rising above Corcovado with Rio sprawling beneath him.

And holy shit, this is how you photograph this place.

From the air, you finally understand just how ridiculous the setting really is. Christ stands on this enormous granite peak surrounded by Atlantic rainforest, while Rio spills around mountains, beaches, bays, high-rises and neighborhoods in basically every available direction.

It’s spectacular.

It’s also significantly more expensive than simply developing patience.

I chose the helicopter.

Weather still matters enormously. Corcovado is high enough that clouds can swallow the entire summit, meaning you can spend a small fortune getting yourself to Rio, another small fortune renting a helicopter, and potentially enjoy an exclusive aerial tour of absolutely fucking nothing.

Jesus disappearing into the clouds does feel suspiciously on-brand, but it’s considerably less amusing when you’re paying for helicopter time.

So watch the weather, go when conditions are clear, and if you’re shooting from the ground, bring a wide-angle lens and whatever reserves of patience remain in your soul.

Or do what I did.

Lose your shit and rent an aircraft.

THE STRANGEST PART IS WHAT JESUS IS WATCHING

What makes Christ the Redeemer particularly fascinating isn’t just the statue.

It’s the absolute circus happening underneath him.

Rio is contradiction piled on top of contradiction.

Extraordinary wealth and extreme poverty.

Rainforest and traffic jams.

Luxury hotels and favelas.

Armed police and tourists casually drinking caipirinhas at 10:30 in the morning because apparently orange juice was too responsible.

And beaches. Lots and lots of beaches.

Miles of sand populated by some of the most aggressively attractive people on Earth wearing swimsuits apparently designed during a catastrophic worldwide fabric shortage.

Big boobs.

Even bigger butts.

And somewhere roughly 700 meters above all of it stands Jesus, arms stretched wide, enjoying what may be the best unobstructed view of Brazilian ass on planet Earth.

Through all of it, Jesus remained on Corcovado.

Watching.

Silently judging.

Or perhaps just appreciating the scenery.

IS CHRIST THE REDEEMER WORTH VISITING?

Absolutely.

Just don’t come expecting solitude.

Christ the Redeemer is one of those rare mega-tourist attractions that remains impressive despite the industrial-scale tourism surrounding it.

Yes, approximately 10,000,000,000,000 people will attempt to take the same photograph while you’re there.

And yes, someone will inevitably spend fifteen minutes perfecting a selfie while an entire line of increasingly homicidal tourists waits behind them.

But then you’ll walk toward the railing.

Rio will appear beneath you.

Sugarloaf will rise from the bay.

And behind you will be a gigantic Jesus standing on top of Brazil with his outstretched arms start looking less like a blessing and more like Jesus staring down at the city and saying: “I have absolutely no idea what the fuck you people are doing.”

And honestly?

Neither do I.

But I’d absolutely go back.