Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Visiting any great city usually comes with recommendations from friends and acquaintances who have been before and with Rio we have been inundated with suggestions for restaurants, nightclubs, favelas and more. We've also learned that Felix, a guest on the Iron Maiden tour I met a few weeks ago in Mexico City, jumped ship when the band arrived in Rio and has thrown himself into the fabled nightlife scene. He's promised to take us to some backstreet samba bars to dance the night away.

He meets us at 6pm in our hotel but I have a suggestion of my own before the evening begins. Just one block away is the original grand hotel of Rio, the Copacabana Palace, where myself and the journalist Sophie Heawood spent a memorable night drinking cocktails when she flew out to interview Maiden a few years ago.

I take Coman and Felix there for passion fruit caiporiskas by the glamorous pool, watching as lightning flashes in the sky, and then we hire one of the hotel's driver to take us to the district of Santa Teresa, high above the city. Henrique, our chauffeur, is an erudite character who expounds a theory as we drive through the city that provokes debate.

He argues that modern civilisation evolved in the northern hemisphere as a result of Europeans needing to cope with working, farming and storing food across changing seasons each year, whereas cultures in the tropics had plentiful food all year round so didn't need to apply themselves with the same discipline and therefore never made the great leaps in scientific thinking that gave the colonial powers global dominance for so long.

The discussion continues after we drop Felix in the buzzy area of Lapa, with plans to meet him later, and extends further as we drive up the winding roads of Santa Teresa to the hilltop restaurant of Aprazivel, which we have had highly recommended to us by another friend. I get the feeling Henrique has had this conversation many times before as he delivers his arguments with the well-rehearsed force of a Brazilian Richard Dawkins.

After an ear-bending hour we take our leave of him and enter the glass elevator that takes us from street level down into the incredible setting that Aprazivel occupies on the hillside, perched like a treehouse, its various dining levels connected via paths through tropical gardens. It's magical and romantic, despite the warm rain that's gently falling and we are seated with a magnificent view before us of Rio twinkling at night.

The food matches the setting; exotic dishes of Brazilian gastronomy that whilst not cheap by local standards are far from the bank-breaking prices for similar fare back home. Our appetisers are Acarajé do Cerrado - polenta croquettes stuffed with spicy beef with a sweet and sour dip of jiló (African aubergine) and green tomato - followed by starters of roasted Heart of Palm and a Tropical Revelry Salad of beetroot, orange, watermelon, fig balsamic, crispy tapioca and cashews. They're all fantastically tasty.

Our mains are similarly delicious. Galinhada Caipira is a chicken and sausage casserole with kale, beans and plantain whilst the Pernil das Gerais is a leg of pork confit on caramelised pineapple, mint and rice.

After all this food it's time to put on our dancing shoes and try and work off the calories we've just consumed. However finding Felix in Lapa proves tricky as our directions make no sense to the cab driver who drops us on a deserted Avenida Gomes Friere with no sign of Felix to be found. It's a darkened part of town, long-considered edgy if not downright dangerous but now more famous for its student life and bars, none of which seem to be close by... just doorways housing street dwellers who watch us with interest.

At the end of the road civilisation beckons and we discover a pretty street housing one of the city's most famous samba nightclubs, Rio Scenarium which has been recommended to us by both Luana and the maitre'd at Aprazivel. It's apparently also the number 1 nightlife spot according to Trip Advisor. We pay the cover charge and head inside, hoping to be dazzled by a heaving dance floor and glamorous people spread over its three floors.

It boasts a fabulous, eclectic and decadent interior; opulent chandeliers, thick velvet drapes, crazy antiques, walls of mirrors, motorbikes hanging from the ceiling, old red telephone boxes in hidden corners, turn of the century cash registers, wrought iron balustrades and a band on stage playing sultry samba. When it's full and buzzing in the witching hours of the weekend it must be great fun.

However at 11.30pm on a Tuesday night with just one couple dancing and a bunch of Dutch holidaymakers milling around the sparsely-populated floors taking photos, it feels like the overpriced tourist trap it essentially is. We have a mineral water and leave, asking directions in rudimentary Portugese to a nearby bar Felix has just texted us about.

We eventually find him, chatting to some English girls he's met, and join them as they head to a more authentic place deeper in the heart of Lapa. Rounding a corner we discover a large crowd in a square watching men throwing capoeira moves to the beat of samba drummers. Behind them, under a sign marked Estudentie Musical, a doorway leads upstairs into a large, dark room with a rudimentary bar serving obscenely strong cocktails while a banging samba band get a crowd of young Cariocas dancing in a manner that's intimate and sensual in the extreme. Now this is more like it!

Liquored-up, Coman and I brave the dance floor, our young female friends soon being whisked around the room by Brazilian men whose superior moves Felix gazes upon in awe as they get up close and very personal with the bevy of beauties Felix had befriended.

With no ladies for us to impress Coman and I shake our hips with a distinct lack of Latin talent but a heap of drunken enthusiasm, twirling around and bumping into other couples with regular left-footedness. Those caiporiskas are a supreme antidote to embarrassment, especially as all the other guys there will only dance when they have pulled a female partner, whereas we two somewhat middle-aged idiots are giving it loads regardless.

However all good things must come to an end and mindful that Luana is collecting us in a few hours for a city tour we say our goodbyes, hail a cab and return to our hotel just before 2am, drenched with exertion and humidity. I don't think we're destined for Strictly Come Dancing any time soon!