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Rio de Janeiro • Dusk hits this city differently. The massive tropical hills rise out of the earth just as quickly as they subside. Some block out the setting sun a couple hours early. On my first visit to Copacabana beach Thursday afternoon, the light of these soon-to-be Olympics shined.

Extensive sandcastles popped up every couple of minutes. Pure tourist traps. One featured a Christ the Redeemer imitation. The artist wore a Messi jersey. (Seriously, Brazil?) Another featured a bikini-clad group of characters with the "Rio2016' slogan across the parts you'd expect. The last I saw had Copacabana spelled out in all-capital letters at the base. These timely pieces of skill showed up a few minutes away from the Olympic Rings, near the start of the beach's sidewalk.

A young Brazilian woman named Amanda introduced herself to Tribune photographer Rick Egan and asked if she could take a selfie with him because he was American. But while there was light, a reminder materialized on my walk back to the media shuttle bus stop between Copacabana and Ipanema.

Four Brazilian security officials — they did not look like most of the armed forces or police I've seen in my 36 hours here — surrounded four boys. The two older boys sat on the curb, arms behind their backs, handcuffed. They were on the right. The two boys on the left were much younger but not cuffed. They looked up and asked questions to the officials on the left. The officials responded cordially. It's not clear what this group did, but on the surface it was something enough to get caught, then cuffed.

A few feet away, three Brazilian women spoke emotionally of the scene before them. Were they upset at seeing four young boys surrounded by as many grown men with batons? Were they the victims of a petty crime? Whatever the scenario, it played out relatively quietly in a paradise setting on the eve of the Opening Ceremony. Within shouting distance, two Brazilian beachgoers in bikinis happily obliged a photographer when he asked them to hoist an Australian flag and pose for a photo.

Maybe it's just the tourist in me. Maybe I was fazed when I shouldn't have been. I just can't remember seeing kids in handcuffs who didn't look old enough to drive a car. In Brazil, it's 18. These kids looked 15 or 16.

That started the end to an interesting Day 2 in Rio. It truly started when an Olympic volunteer unlocked our apartment door Thursday morning and asked if she could come in. She was already in, but that's hindsight. She asked if she could tape messages above the toilets in the apartment.

"Please do not Throw Toilet paper in the toilet," it now reads in the two bathrooms.

The shower works now, but it only spits out frigid water. I imagine it will stay this way for a while. Last night, in search of bottled water — they ran out in the media village and have advised us not to drink the tap water — I overheard a man in the reception center describing how his room has been flooded for nearly 24 hours. So, cold showers? Good enough for us.

The shuttle ride to the Copacabana area took a modest 40 minutes from the Main Press Center across the street from the Olympic Village. We caught some experts playing frescobol, where two athletes with paddles just smack a racquetball back and forth in the sand at Ipanema. On our walk to the beach, we stopped to listen to an elderly Brazilian man play the saxophone. After studying his sheet music, he started playing "New York, New York."

Yeah, the official opening to the Olympics is less than 24 hours away.

That was preceded by an older gentleman shuffling to the beach, carrying his surfboard to Ipanema, while whistling "Walking in a Winter Wonderland." It is winter down here, after all.

-Chris Kamrani

Twitter: @chriskamrani