The white sands of Copacabana beach typically draw millions of sun-worshippers, New Year's Eve revellers and fans for free concerts by the likes of Stevie Wonder and the Rolling Stones. In the coming week, the star of the show is infinitely less flamboyant than Mick Jagger, but he promises to stir up just as much passion among devotees.
Pope Francis, the 76-year-old Argentine who became the church's first pontiff from the Americas in March, will turn the crescent-shaped shoreline into a giant stage for his first international trip as pope, returning to the embrace of Latin America to preside over the Roman Catholic Church's World Youth Day festival.
The pontiff is coming to the heart of a city known for pricey real estate and sexy samba with a message of humility, simplicity and support for the poor — priorities that he has set out already in his four months as pope.
The Catholic Church in Brazil is one he knows well, aware that it is losing legions of adherents to Pentecostal churches and secularism. But Catholic youth festivals are meant to reinvigorate the faithful, and Francis, a soccer-loving native son, is expected to rally young people with his humble and unconventional ways.
More than a million young Catholics are expected to flock to Rio to celebrate their new pope. The city overseen by the giant Christ the Redeemer statue has mobilized thousands of soldiers and police to make sure the visit goes smoothly, even as violent anti-government protests continue to erupt a month after Brazil saw mass demonstrations nationwide.
Some residents have already prepared a uniquely Rio de Janeiro welcome for Francis: They've built from sand life-sized images of the pope on Copacabana, in place of the usual sculptures of bikini-clad beauties.
The vast nation was 89 percent Catholic when Pope John Paul II became the first pontiff to visit in 1980. According to the national census, that figure had dropped to 65 percent by 2010. Such declines are happening all over Latin America, which is one of the church's remaining strongholds amid growing secularism in Europe and the United States. Sex abuse and corruption scandals have further eroded trust in the church.
Pope Francis has moved quickly to build a more everyman approach to his office.
He still refuses to sign his name as pope, rarely refers to himself as pontiff, and thinks of his role more as a good pastor — and a good role model for other pastors. Once a priest who rode the subway to work, he is now a pope who spurns the ornate symbols of power: He passed on the red papal shoes for his old black ones and shed the fancy papal residence and gold pectoral cross.
Recently, he skipped a concert held in his honour in the Vatican auditorium, something unheard of among popes. Instead, he left his white papal chair empty as the concert went on without him.
Still, he hasn't shied from flexing his papal authority.
Francis' audacious decision to canonize Pope John XXIII was evidence that he knows full well how to wield papal power. Francis bypassed Vatican rules that require confirming a second miracle to John's credit before he could be declared a saint, skipping that formality so he could canonize both the liberal "father" of the Second Vatican Council and the conservative John Paul. That was seen as a balancing act aimed at keeping the disparate wings of the church happy.
So far, Francis' changes appear to have paid off, with public opinion polls showing broad popularity, at least among Catholics.
Pope Francis will certainly take every opportunity to show off his simpler touch in Brazil, the world's biggest Catholic country, especially after what many considered the more aloof style of Benedict, who visited Brazil in 2007.
He is also well known for his outreach to Jews, Muslims and even atheists, so his appeal doesn't seem limited to Catholics alone. What's unclear, however, is how he will deal with the millions of Brazilians who have left the Catholic faith for evangelical churches that the Vatican considers "sects."
In one of the key events of his trip, the church's first Jesuit leader will venture into a rough slum that sits along a violence-soaked road known by locals as the Gaza Strip. For many Brazilians, images of that visit will conjure memories of the still beloved John Paul II, who made his own visits to Rio's slums in 1980 and 1997. Since then, evangelical groups have made deep inroads into Brazil's slums with their hands-on ministry of personal improvement and self-discipline.