Blame it on Rio: A Honeymooner's Paradise by Iyna Bort Caruso

"Local officials say the red tape for residents is intimidating and it's virtually unmanageable for foreigners due to heavy documentation and public notice requirements."

   Step off the plane in Rio de Janeiro and you're liable to experience a feeling of past-trip regression, a phenomenon in which first impressions of the city spark memories of other destinations. The tropics of Hawaii, perhaps. The Pacific coast. The beaches of the Rivera. But in the time it takes to sip a Caipirinha, the national cocktail, everything changes. Rio is singularly Rio, a romantic and storied city.

   Blame it on the bossa nova or the hundred other reasons that have made Rio the honeymoon capital of Latin America. The city is endlessly hip and as seductive as an Antonio Carlos Jobim song. You can almost hear The Girl from Ipanema in your head as you walk along the wide mosaic boulevards by the ocean.

   That music could sound like a scratched record if you try to get married in Brazil, though. Local officials say the red tape for residents is intimidating and it's virtually unmanageable for foreigners due to heavy documentation and public notice requirements. Instead, they encourage visiting newlyweds to take part in local wedding customs. A favorite for brides is to sew the names of their single friends into the hem of their dress. Another is to make three wishes the first time you enter a new church. Don't bother wasting a wish on a fabulous honeymoon. In Rio, that's a given.

   Americans have stayed away from Brazil for the better part of the 1990s, due to screaming inflation, crime and drugs. But that's changing. Unemployment rates have dropped and the economy has stabilized. Rio's crime rate is not much different than most big cities, but stick to the tourist districts just the same. Along Copacabana Beach, in the southern zone, five-star hotels boast world-class restaurants. There's Le Saint Honore, under the care of Chef Paul Bocuse at Le Meridien Hotel. Over at the Copacabana Palace Hotel, Cipriani's serves to a full house every night.

   Yet, Rio's greatest treasures are those created by Mother Nature. The city is edged on the Atlantic but feels more like a Pacific town the way the mountains emerge from the clouds and climb into the heavens. They compete with churches, offices and hotels for skyline drama. When it comes to a hill called Corcovado, there's no contest. It's topped by Christ the Redeemer monument, the largest religious statue in the world at over 100 feet. At night, the Christ statue is astonishing. That's when the hill turns dark and the illuminated monument seems to hover protectively over the city. It's as spiritual as it is spectacular.

   Along the surfside strip of Avenue Atlantica, Copacabana Beach lives up to its legendary name. The median, a mosaic of black, white and red tiles, represents the three national heritages: Africans brought over in slavery, Portuguese who colonized the land and Indians native to the continent. A dedicated path for joggers and cyclists starts at Copacabana and extends through the elegant Ipanema and Leblon beaches.

   Cariocas, as Rio natives are called, will tell you they have a four-season climate. Don't believe it. Temperatures barely fluctuate. You can bring your bathing suit in the dead of winter, which is August here below the Equator. But Rio's legacy is more than just its 43 public beaches. Like any great city, it has an impressive breadth of museums, varying from stately to kitsch. One pays homage to Carmen Miranda, the Technicolor Bombshell of the 1940s. Another, the Academia da Cacasca, is dedicated to the national liquor, cachaça.

   When the sun goes down, Brazilians are just getting started. Dinner is rarely served before 9 or 10 p.m. and Rio's nightlife takes off from there. There are bossa nova clubs for listening and samba clubs for dancing off the effects of one too many cups of Brazilian coffee. The African-inspired rhythms offer insight into the Brazilian soul: familiar and traditional, yet intensely passionate. Samba's pulsating percussion seems to exorcise worries. Maybe that's why Brazilians say "e tudo acaba em samba": Everything ends in samba. For honeymooners in Rio, it certainly holds true. At least until the plane ride home.