If I was Brazilian I would describe my skin colour as Morena-Canelada, Cinnamon-like Brunette. I have taken Oliver Balch's book Viva South America: A Journey through a Restless Continent along for some light reading on my trip. It seemed topical. His book says that the Brazilian Census office came up with 135 different pigmentation descriptions. How's that for political correctness? I could also describe myself as Tostado, toasted, after a mere hour in the Brazilian sun, or Alva-Rosada, white with pink highlights, to describe my bum in my new Brazilian Bikini.

First stop on our grand South American adventure, Rio Di Janeiro. Ashlee, my new travelling amiga and I have stopped here for four days on our way to Peru. Aside from Carnival, one of the first things that to come to mind when you think of Rio is the beaches and the skimpy beach apparel.

Day one, and the first thing we do is go in quest of Brazilian bikinis. At the local's Saara markets we find a bargain bin selling them for R$6 (NZ$4.75). After much deliberation, and pulling and stretching bikinis at every angle, we walk away happily in search of the beach.

The locals call foreigners Gringos. On the beach you can spot then miles away, as in comparison to everyone else they seem to be wearing nappies. We blend in far better, although by Brazilian standards our bikinis are still rather modest. I can blame it on not having a Brazilian bum, the Brazilian women have great bums. Even the Mannequins in Brazil have perkier bums than usual. I did see a whole lot of padded bum underwear, so am not convinced all Brazilian bottoms are au natural.

Aside from bums, you also get a glimpse of Rio's poverty from Copacabana beach. While sitting on the beach front sipping caipirinhas I was amazed by how many people, especially children came by begging. One boy, who was only about seven, got so flustered trying to make a white flower out of toilet paper that I brought it off him. You don't need to be far from the beach to look up and see the Favellas in the distance.

Rio's Favellas or slums were made infamous by the film City of God. Since then so many tourists have flocked to Rio hoping to get a glimpse, that even the Drug Lords have found a way to profit off tourism. People pay to do tours, and the tour guides pay off the Drug Lords to enter.

We heard of one Couchsurfing host who was charging people $R20 a night to stay on his couch in a Favella. Most of the money went to the Drug Lord, but we were told the host made a small profit also. Apparently this new idea of Favellas being chic and cool is taking off in Rio.

Some Favella dwellers now use the arts to express themselves and to create a sub-culture that connects them to Rio in a positive way. I found this tile that used art to make a powerful message.

I'll admit I really wanted to see the Favellas myself. But the thought of exploiting someone's poverty, and gawking at them like animals at the zoo just didn't sit right.

Instead we stayed with a Couchsurfer in Lapa, Rio's Bohemian neighbourhood. We seemed to be the only Gringos, everyone else flocked to Copacabana. At times Lapa itself felt a bit like a ghetto, every night on the way home we walked past the same homeless man. He slept in a Brazil cap on the steps of a church that was covered in graffiti.

Lapa was also the Samba Mecca of Rio. At night the bars, clubs and streets became alive and full of locals. Our complete inability to do Brazilian hip and booty shaking quickly marked us as Gringos. The first thing anyone ever said to us was "Where are you from?"

They then proceeded to try teach us to dance. Brazilian style. Partner dancing was the norm, and this was always extremely close - thighs integrated. The New Zealand bubble of personal space was impossible to maintain.

Dancing is definitely at the heart of Brazilian culture, and it is something they do extremely well. One of my favourite places we went to was Casa Rosa, Pink House. Once a high class brothel, it is now a club that goes off on a Sunday night. There was a Caporeira fight ring, where people sparred in the fight dancing style. There was a live band in the courtyard with everyone Sambering and upstairs Brazilian funk. There was even a floor with Forro - the Northern style, where you dance even closer to your partner than Samba.

Brazilians were very patriotic. If they couldn't believe we were staying in Rio for only four days, then they were completely mortified that that was our total time in Brazil.

"You must come back here," "You should move here," we were repeatedly told.

The small problem of our complete lack of Portuguese.

"No problem," we were told. "You will learn it in less than one month."

We were not convinced this was completely accurate, but the idea of returning to Brazil is tempting. Very tempting. Brazil seems to have everything. Jungle, beaches, cities, caprinhas, dancing… Just a few of my favourite things.