clear

Cape Town and Rio de Janeiro are two cities on most people’s bucket lists, but which one reigns supreme when it comes to the best – one writer compares the two

Days shaped by sand, surf and salt air. Nights by bars, beats and grills. All played out in a city somehow woven between soaring mountains and sun-swept shores. Sounds good, no? Well this is both Brazil’s Rio de Janeiro and South Africa’s Cape Town. Then chuck in vibrant waterfront neighbourhoods, primeval hiking trails, world-class food and drink, plus a melting pot of cultures and you’ve got what it takes to be the greatest city in the world. Which is what both have boldly claimed.

But they both can’t be right, so which takes the crown? I’ve lived in samba-soaked Rio, and recently spent a month exploring the city straddling Africa’s southern tip, so may just be qualified enough to have a say in the debate that’s enraged Brazilians and South Africans online. The neutral voice of reason ’n’ all that.

Weather

Rio has a glorious tropical climate. Hot and humid, with sweltering summers often as high as 40C. You’ll rarely feel cold, but if you’re of a sensitive disposition, it may be too much heat to handle. Plus biblical rains can wash your trip away.

Conversely, Cape Town has a Mediterranean-style climate. Dry, warm summers with highs of a perfect 30C. Fantastic if it weren’t for one thing – the wind. Known as the “Cape Doctor”, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Sweeping in off the ocean, it can make a hot summer’s day feel like autumn. Worse, it can be downright violent, turning beaches into giant sandblasters, stinging your skin, near blinding you. Bad doctor.

Verdict: Rio is the winner.

Beaches

Oh my, what an amazing array of beaches they both have, like no other city in the world. Apart from each other, of course. Both have smaller arcing sands near the city centre, becoming longer and more pristine the further out of town you head.

Just south of the centre, Rio has the world-famous Copacabana and Ipanema beaches, broad stretches of golden sand where the whole city decants to at weekends to let it all hang out in too-scant swimwear.

Cape Town has the likes of smaller yet very pretty Sea Point, Clifton and Camps Bay, which were far more debonair than I expected. More like the Cote d’Azur than the Cape of Good Hope.

Further up the coast, Rio has beautiful Barra, and Cape Town kite-surf strewn Bloubergstrand, giant stretches of glorious open coastline pounded by those big blue waves.

But the key difference is that Rio’s waters are much warmer, whereas Cape Town’s side of the Atlantic is surprisingly cold year-round, plus that wiiiind, meaning you don’t see many people swimming – the complete opposite of Rio.

Verdict: Rio takes the crown.

Mountains

Both have an imperious plethora of peaks. Cape Town’s most famous is Table Mountain, which your eyes can dine upon from all over the city. Rio’s is craggy Corcovado, atop which the statue of Christ offers redemption to thousands of tourists daily. But there are countless breathtaking viewpoints from many other fantastically surreal mountains, plus hiking trails that transport you into oh-so-big nature – lush jungle in Rio, temperate forest in Cape Town – a world away from the urbanity below.

Verdict: All too amazing to call. Draw.

City centres

Surprisingly, their city centres are the least impressive aspect. Both have smallish downtowns and historical quarters, which are nice but nothing impressive compared to some global cities. Much better are the colourful colonial-era neighbourhoods – Lapa in Rio, Bo Kaap in Cape Town – where you can join the tourist hordes to get your Insta-pics.

Down by the water, Rio’s Port Zone has cool museums and galleries, while Cape Town’s upmarket V&A Waterfront is very pretty with great views and shops, albeit a tad generic. Then both have plush beach front neighbourhoods, where you can whimsically while away days on the golden sands or trendy terraces.

Verdict: Again, too close to call. Draw.

Food and drink

Both have excellent culinary scenes, especially their meats and barbecues. Yum. But Cape Town has a much broader option of cuisines and restaurants, local and international, and during the entire month I was there I didn’t have a single bad meal. Caipirinhas and other potent cocktails get the party rocking in Rio, but Cape Town’s wines are next level. Despite being of proud Provençal stock, I can freely admit their rosés were the best I’d ever tasted. Perfect sundowners.

Verdict: Cape Town is the clear winner here.

Prices

Both have similar prices, which are considerably cheaper than the UK and Western Europe. Decent budget meals are around £4-£10, and mid-level accommodation around £50-£100pn. There are plenty of upmarket options, which are also relatively good value for money.

Verdict: Draw.

Nightlife and music

Both cities come alive even more when the sun sinks into the ocean. Your more mainstream bars and restaurants line the beachfronts, while cool bar-clubs are found in the more hipster hoods of Ipanema and Lapa in Rio, and Bree St and Woodstock in Cape Town.

Both cities are home to world-class music, Rio sways to the sound of samba, rap and “funk”, whereas in Cape Town it’s Afro house, amapiano and 3-step that get things thumping.

Verdict: Cape Town (but mostly due to my penchant for house music), although if we were judging it on Carnival season alone, nothing comes close to Rio!

Vibe

Brazilians are famously some of the most friendly and welcoming people in the world, which is true for Rio, but like any big city, you get plenty of miserable buggers too. People of all shades were friendly with me when I was in Cape Town, yet seemingly not that much with each other.

Sadly, both cities are still riddled with historical divisions between class and race, yet in Cape Town the legacy of Apartheid looms large indeed, and as a tourist you unfortunately won’t see much of the native African side of the city. The division feels tense.

Verdict: Rio.

Overall verdict

My biggest gripe with Cape Town is that as a tourist, you only really see the predominantly rich, white neighbourhoods that feel more like Canada, the US and Australia than Africa.

In Rio, though, everywhere is very Brazilian, no matter the social makeup of the area. Plus the beaches are a leveller, especially Copacabana where the whole city congregates for communal sun-worshipping, eating, drinking, sport playing, and strutting of stuff, no matter if black, white or brown, muscle-bound or beer-belly beautiful – nobody seemingly cares.

And that, for me, is the key difference – which is why Rio is my overall winner.

Milo Boyd visited Bilbao in the Basque region of Spain – a hilly and green city known for its excellent food scene, great climate, cheap beer and the iconic Guggenheim Museum

It’s not every day you go somewhere and think ‘this is the future.’

China’s towering metropolis Chongqing, where fast food arrives by drone and monorails connect skyscrapers, and Seoul, with its ultra-trendy, perfectly made-up population and world-conquering pop music, are the most obvious, shiny forms of tomorrowland.

But there is a place that is a gentler, far more liveable and cooler version of the future, less than two hours from the UK.

“Everything here just works,” a British friend told me shortly after my Vueling flight from Gatwick landed in Bilbao. “And it’s really vibey.”

He had moved to the Basque city of 350,000 after visiting from Malaga and instantly falling in love with its laidback trendiness. Like him, before arriving, I knew nothing about Bilbao beyond the Guggenheim, something I put down to its lack of classic Spanish holiday ingredients. It’s five miles down the Nervión River from the sea and often shrouded in cloud, meaning beach days are tricky. Free tapas with drinks are not a thing, nor are all-inclusive hotels.

But visit, and you’ll soon forget all about that. Because Bilbao delivers art, music and food better than almost any city I’ve been to.

The Guggenheim is the obvious place to start. It towers up above the river, chrome-tile plated buildings designed by Frank Gehry to look like ships sailing into town. When it opened in 1997, the Guggenheim supercharged Bilbao’s transformation from an Atlantic port town into Spain’s premier cultural spot.

The gallery is better than I could’ve imagined. In the 55m central atrium, Jenny Holzer’s LED display scrolls triply to the ceiling, accompanying visitors as they walk up the floating staircases. Whether Richard Serra’s massive rusted maze sculptures, Jeff Koons’ huge floral puppy or Andy Warhol’s One Hundred and Fifty Multicolored Marilyns, there’ll be something for you in there. If somehow there isn’t, the building, with its swooping walkway that emits steam and blasts of fire at night, beneath a towering road bridge and in the shadow of mountains, will keep you entertained.

Bilbao is far from a one-trick museum pony. The Basque Museum sits in a 17th-century former Jesuit college in the Old Town, giving voice to the region’s working people and history of struggle in a razor-sharp space complete with giant dolls standing sentry in the courtyard. The Maritime Museum takes you down to the docks and through Bilbao’s rise as a centre of iron and wool trading. A small mark against the city’s futurist credentials – no mention is made of Bilbao’s role as a shipmaker in Spain’s trans-Atlantic slave trade, a detail no UK museum would now omit.

The air-conditioned museums provide respite from the summer sunshine, as does walking along the river’s banks. A cooling breeze often licks off the water, the wind rolling down from the surrounding green hills. Locals call the valley El Botxo (the hole), due to the way the city is hidden away beneath the hills and protected from the ferocious Spanish sun.

More exposed are your legs. Bilbao’s extreme hilliness has you sweating up hills and clambering up Calzadas de Mallona’s 350 steps. Outdoor elevators provide assistance in parts of Santutxu, where high-rises cut into the slopes make it one of Europe’s most densely populated neighbourhoods. Locals beat the hills by riding electric scooters and cooling off at the numerous free water taps.

These public amenities make you feel looked after. As do spotless streets, hosed down each night, and a city centre river clean enough to house shoals of fish. Socialist tendencies and well-funded public works are baked into Bilbao. It produced the iconic Euskalduna dock strike, gave rise to the communist icon Dolores Ibárruri, and was central to the Basque Separatist Movement.

Bilbao’s days of industry are behind it, replaced by a booming service-led economy, but its leftist tendencies remain. They are visible in the graffiti, children’s playparks dotted along the riverside, and the virtually free public transport system (just make sure to buy a Barik card before you board the airport bus to avoid being ripped off).

Its more recent transformation to a truly international city is obvious in the food.

Like Barcelona and other northern cities, Bilbao specialises in small plates called pintxos, best eaten beneath a parasol in Casco Viejo. Unlike many other parts of the country where it can be tricky to find non-Spanish cuisine, you can enjoy Europe’s 17th best pizza at Demaio, Vietnamese/Mexican fusion at Perro Chico, a vegan build-you-own plate at Margarito, a hefty focaccia at Molica and much, much else.

All of this can be washed down with half a liter of Spanish lager that rarely costs more than three euros.

Although Bilbao is not as well-connected as the country’s bigger cities, Vueling flies from Heathrow, Gatwick and Edinburgh, with flights occasionally available for £14. From my experience, the Spanish flag carrier delivers a mid-range service for budget prices. It’s a little roomier, the loading smoother, and the staff that much cheerier than its rivals.

A hassle-free way, then, to get to this future-facing city.

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