A land of extremes, Brazil displays the great wealth of modern, corporate living alongside the rusty shacks of decrepit poverty; vibrant energy hand-in-hand with a prevalent, laissez-faire mood and up to the minute designer gear side-by-side with untamed nature.

The immediate impact on arrival at Galeao International Airport is one of Latin American exuberance, warmth and charm. The tempo is "double-time" and the Banco do Brasil remains open late into the evening for currency exchange (the local unit is the real) while taxis stand ready to whisk travellers to swish, high-rise hotels lining the luxurious beaches. (The safe option is to buy pre-paid taxi vouchers in the airport terminal at the State Tourism Authority desk.)

The coastal highway into town runs past Flamengo Praia (beach) near the Centro; Botafogo, the beautiful yacht-flecked basin guarded by the splendid backdrop of a crouching sphinx - the Pao de Acucar or Sugar Loaf Mountain and then on to Leme, Copacabana (Sacred Place), Ipanema (Wild Waters) and Leblon beaches.

Early Portuguese explorers carried away logs, which they discovered produced a vivid, red dye. They called the wood pau-brasil because it was the colour of glowing embers (brasa in Portuguese) and the name Brazil was born. When the explorer, André Gonçalves, made landfall on New Year's Day in 1502 he mistook Guanabara Bay for the wide mouth of a river and Rio de Janeiro was first recorded in cartographers' ink.

On top of the Corcovado (Hunchback) Mountain, towering 710m over the city and visible from far out to sea, rises the awesome figure of Christ the Redeemer. Sculpted in France, this famous statue was erected in 1931 and stands 38m high, embracing the city in a 28m arm-span.

On "ascension day" one should rise early, when the peak is less likely to be veiled in cloud or mist and when the smog is less likely to impair the panoramic view from the summit high above. Cog-wheel trains, brightly painted in parrot-red, leave from the station at Rua Cosme Velho (a short bus or taxi ride from the centre and the beaches) at frequent intervals throughout the day, from 8.30am to 8pm. The slow, winding passage up the mountain through the dense, fragrant foliage of the Atlantic rain forest is, in itself, an exciting adventure.

The final ascent, a 220-step staircase, leads from the upper train station to the viewing platform at the base of the statue. Previously this last leg was accessible only on foot but escalators and a lift have recently been installed.

Join the throng of worshipping tourists and look up towards the beatific face in the sky; look down on the cidade maravilhosa (marvellous city) and look around at the amazing, 360º view of greater Rio. Below stretches the distinctive and beautiful vista of deep-emerald, rounded morros (peaks); golden sands; dark lake and sparkling sea.

By day this World Wonder is a spectacular experience, by night, ethereal rays fan out from the floodlit figure, bathing rocks, forest and mountain in a halo of unearthly light.

If the soul of this sensual city lives on the mountain, its heart pulses on the crowded beaches. Thousands of scantily clad cariocas (inhabitants) of all classes, rich and poor, meet on the sands for games of futebol, voleibol, or just to socialise. This great melting pot is both a vortex of energy and a release valve for the tensions of city life. It has been said that the people of Sao Paulo, as a consequence of having no beaches, suffer more stress.

Copacabana is a delightful international playground. The graceful, sweeping curve of the world's most famous beach fades gently towards the horizon; the stylish, tree-lined sidewalks are adorned with a sinuous, black and white mosaic design and towering high-rises - trendy apartment blocks and expensive hotels - stretch along the busy, multi-laned Avenida Atlantica.

Beyond, flanked by the Avenida Vieira Souto, lies the gentler curve of Ipanema, pristine, even more expensive and perhaps the loveliest beach of all. Forever associated with the words of the famous song: The Girl from Ipanema penned in the sixties by Tom Jobim - it is ideal for people-watching.

The quaint boutiques in the narrow streets between the beach and the lagoon offer a wonderful assortment of leather and suede goods, jewellery, swimwear and crafts while Rio Sul, the giant mall near Botofogo, has it all. (Except, perhaps, for what is lost in translation: my egg-mayo sandwich arrived as a hot fried egg smothered in cold mayonnaise.)

Catch a teleferico ride up the Sugar Loaf Mountain - preferably at sunset - when the dazzling view seen from the bullet-shaped peak is an amazing sight. Pinks, reds and oranges mingle with the rich greens of the hills and darken the tanzanite blues of ocean and sky. (In true tropical fashion all tones take on a brighter hue.)

Every half-hour bondinhos (glass-panelled cable-cars) whisk sightseers up the first stage to the lower peak - Morro da Urca. Another three-minute cable-car ride completes the second stage to the summit of the Pao de Acucar, 396m above sea level. All around distinctive granite and quartz morros rise sheer from the sea. The scene is definitive, breathtaking, and unmistakably Rio!

December and January are the rainy months and on the way down a short, sharp thunderstorm cut the power and left us marooned at the halfway station. For 40 nail-biting minutes we stood (among sodden souvenir stalls offering an array of intricate wooden carvings for sale) watching the city below in a whole new light: lit by flashes of jagged lightning and trembling before the ferocity of the elements.

The welcoming portals of the Copacabana Palace Hotel rapidly restored equilibrium. Standing in the thick of it all, this stucco-faced grande dame (reminiscent of the Negresco in Nice and the Majestic in Cannes) has, over the years, perfected the art of hospitality. Breakfasts are legendary feasts of tropical fruits: deep-orange paw-paw, the sweetest watermelon, blood-red oranges and delicious pineapple, all with a side serving of fragrant roses and washed down with excellent Brazilian coffee.

Take a tour through Jungle-land: the 120km2 Parquet Nacional da Tijuca, a magical abode of huge butterflies, Brazilian spider flower trees, iridescent birds, flamboyant bougainvilleas and the strange, heavy-fruited jaca tree. There is even a scene-stealing, pink chapel beside a high waterfall and a swinging, string bridge. Glance across the bay towards the distant outline of Niteroi ('Hidden Waters' in the Tupi language). Rio's faded sister-city is singularly disappointing and hardly merits a visit but its claim to fame is the outstanding feat of engineering linking it to its famous neighbour: an impressive 8km bridge spanning the Baia de Guanabara.

On New Year's Eve a mystical celebration takes place on the beaches when millions of adherents to the Candomblé religion, dressed in white and carrying garlands of flowers, gather to offer gifts to Iemanja, goddess of the sea. Bonfires are lit and, like a myriad of fireflies, countless candles flicker into life on the sands. At midnight the chanting revellers surge to the water's edge and call on the spirits for blessings as they welcome another January.

We viewed this unforgettable scene from our departing plane high overhead. As entrancing pinpricks of light traced the long curves of a sparking shoreline - Rio wove her special magic and it spells "return destination".