Days 15-16: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil -> Ilha Grande, Brazil

Friday morning, we officially said goodbye to Rio and set off once again for Ilha Grande. The first leg of our trip was a three-hour van ride, throughout which the driver seemed hellbent on seeing the contents of my stomach--and I'm not typically one to get carsick. Luckily, I made it through the ride intact, and then got onto a more peaceful boat. The whole trip took the better part of the day, which would have been irritating had it not been cold and gray outside.

Upon arriving on the island, we all settled into our pousada and then met up for dinner. We began our meal with free caipirinhas, which foiled my plan of abstaining from drinking. Since Dan and I began our trip, I have gone a total of one day without alcohol. This is not to say I have always sought it out, nor that I have gotten drunk every time, but South America clearly likes to see me with a drink in hand. I guess I am on vacation anyway...

Throughout the meal, we had many canine visitors stop at our table. They must have known Dan is a dog person because they pulled out all of their best tricks for him. Amazingly, he resisted feeding them; if they had used the same tactics on me, I'm not sure I could have held out. 

Dan and I shared a plate of grilled chicken with rice, beans, and French fries. This was certainly not the first time where we had a plate sans vegetables and with double carbs. According to our trip director, it won't be the last either. Apparently this is very common throughout South America, which is unfortunate because I'm definitely already missing my greens. We all chatted for awhile after dinner ended, and then agreed to get an early start the following day so we could walk to a faraway beach.

The next morning, we hiked to a beach called Lopes Mendes. Dan and I took off a bit later than everyone else, but it was probably for the best because we were able to dictate the pace. We were told the trek would take two and a half hours; either the estimate was off or our endurance is improving because we shaved off thirty minutes from the time. Upon arriving, we were excited to discover that the beach was the prettiest we had seen on the island. Unfortunately, though, the weather was subpar and the waves were rough. 

We made our best attempt at getting some sun, and then Dan went with one of our tourmates, Tom, to toss a ball and play frisbee. Once again, Dan gained a four-legged fan club. However, this time the dogs were playing a bit more rough. They sprinted after everything that went flying through the air, and for awhile Dan and Tom were having fun with it. Then, after one of the tosses, a dog got a little too aggressive in his pursuit and chomped down on Dan's thigh. Dan merely winced it off, but he was bleeding and beginning to bruise. We cleaned it out and then made a point to address it once we got back to the village.

An hour later, we began our return trip. Our tour director suggested that we walk to a nearby beach, and from there, take a taxi boat. We opted for this route, and all went together to catch the boat on the other shore. 

I guess the boat driver's rain jacket or the life vests we were handed should have set off some red flags for me, but I thought little of them as I took my seat aboard the small vessel. It was only five minutes into our ride that I internalized these early warning signs. At that point, punishing waves were already sending us inches off our seats and thrashing water at our faces.  Dan was groaning loudly in the row in front of me, most likely because he was bearing the brunt of the impact. On the other hand, I couldn't help but laugh through the entire ride, and was actually a little disappointed when the water finally settled as we approached our destination.

Once back on land, Dan went to see the island doctor to receive what will be the first of five rabies shots (we didn't want to take any chances with the bite). We then relaxed in our room before meeting the group at a kebab place for dinner. Over our meal, I learned a bit more about our group members. Our ages range from 23 to 35, and with exception of the Canadians, everyone's travels will last from two to seven months. It has been fascinating to meet so many other young people, most of whom are on their own, with similar travel plans to us. It has been equally interesting to note how few American backpackers we have met so far.

After dinner, we bought some bottles of wine to drink on the roof of our pousada. We had a deck of cards with us, but it was challenging to find a game we all knew. We eventually settled on an easy drinking game called Kings or Ring of Fire, depending on where you are from. I was actually quite good at the game, but because of a rule that had me drinking any time Dan erred, I ended up downing more than my share of the wine. We had a lot of fun playing, and certain revelations throughout the game ultimately drew us closer. We then made our way to a bar in the village where, after a couple of caipirinhas, we ended our night.

Days 13-14: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

We have now hit the two-week mark of our travels, which also marks the end of our time in Rio. Unfortunately, our final two days in this amazing city were dampened by stormy weather. We both suffered severe cases of the rainy day blues, and nursed our illnesses mostly indoors. That being said, we did run a couple of errands including going to the laundromat and the nails salon. The latter was a solo trip; I knew I was in trouble when Dan had the awareness to comment on the haggard appearance of my nails. 

The laundromat misspelled Dan's last name...I guess we weren't as inconspicuous as I had thought.

Day 14 marked the introductory day of our tour. We are going to be traveling with a company through parts of Brazil and Uruguay, and then finish in Buenos Aires. During our welcome meeting, we learned that our group is tiny; only 8 of us and a tour guide will be embarking on the 17-day journey. Of the group, there are three solo travelers from the UK, one from Holland, two sisters from Canada, and us. Everyone looks their part: the Brits are pale skinned and fair-haired, the Dutch girl is tall, blonde and pretty, and the Canadians, well they just dress like stereotypical tourists (I'm just waiting for the visors and fanny packs to make an appearance). Everyone seems to be using the tour as a planned program cushioned within loftier, less organized travels. Our trip leader is Peruvian, but now calls Argentina home, so he will probably be a great consultant for this part of our trip and beyond. 

After our initial introductions, we all went to a beachfront restaurant for dinner. There, I sat across from one of the Brits and learned a good deal about her. Her name is Suze and she is from a small farm town in Northern England. Small, as in her classes were made up of multiple age groups because there were only four people her year--that kind of small. She now lives in the city of Leeds, and for being from such a small town, has done a fair amount of traveling. Currently, she is on the front end of her longest journey yet: a seven-month trip through Latin America, Southeast Asia, and Oceania. 

We enjoyed a nice meal, and then parted ways with the group in order to spend one last night with our Mellow Yellow friends. Our crew had a fun night out at a club, but it felt strange saying goodbye to great people we knew we would probably never see again. 

Here's to looking forward to the next phase of our adventure...

Last night in Rio

Met this little guy while on line for the club. It took all of my will power not to keep him.

Day 12: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

At long last, today was laundry day! Although I was not yet in dire straits, it was certainly time for clean clothes. I was at the point where I had worn nearly everything I brought, and many items had already made multiple appearances. Our host's apartment has a washer dryer that we filled up with our first of three loads this morning. We then headed out to the nearby beach.

It was a perfect beach day, and plenty of people had come out to Copacababana to take advantage of the weather. Dan and I laid our towels out near Posto 5, our agreed meeting spot with a friend who wanted to stop by. We relaxed in the sun, and then a half hour later our friend joined us. He is around our age, originally from San Diego, and has been living in Rio for the past eight months. Upon chatting with him for a bit, we finally gained insight into his extended stay in Brazil. 

It turns out that some time after high school, he chose to join the marines. He was locked into a four-year commitment with the military, and completed most of his service in California. Right around his third year mark, two of his best friends who were fighting in the Middle East were injured in combat, and terribly, died in the hospital. It was around this time that he also learned he was going to be spending his final year of service in Afghanistan. Having just lost his two best friends, the idea of his own mortality terrified him and he decided to run away from the military. Of course, in the United States, doing this is a federal offense, so he is essentially not allowed back in the country. If he ever were to return, he would have to spend five years in jail.

Dan and I were equally shocked by his story. Luckily, he still has the love and support of his family and friends, but the idea of never being able to return home is an overwhelming thought. He is very happy in Rio, though, and still enjoys a laid back, Cali lifestyle. We talked for a little while longer, and then parted ways around lunchtime. At that point, Dan and I swung back to the apartment, where we abruptly got into a fight with the washer dryer. The dryer was being lazy and didn't feel like doing his job. Thankfully, after a bit of coercing, he was back to work and we were free to leave. 

We left to grab a bite to eat and then traveled to a nearby favela. A favela is essentially a Brazilian slum, with buildings that often sit like stacked boxes atop steep hills. While many can be dangerous, there are also some that are very safe and beautiful in their irregular structure. Dan and I went to one of the safer ones that was recommended to us. 

 

At the bottom of the favela, there was a line of moto-taxis (motorcycles) with drivers waiting to take people up; it seemed that this was a common way for residents to get to their homes. We went over to the drivers, were each handed a helmet, then hopped on the back of separate taxis and set off. The drivers moved swiftly through the labyrinth of narrow streets and cruised around cars at an exhilarating pace. As we rode up, I took note of the people, the buildings, and the amazing street art. 

The community had all the makings of a regular neighborhood, with the main distinctions seeming to be the steep roads and an unfavorable reputation. The history nerd in me itched to know more about my surroundings, and I regretted that we had not opted to take a formal favela tour. Even still, I enjoyed the sights and the uphill ride. We hung at the top of the favela for about ten minutes before flagging down two moto-taxis to take us back to the bottom. 

Back at the apartment, we learned that the dryer had grown spiteful and chose to severely wrinkle all of our clothes. We were able to attempt one more load for the night (which we hung to dry), and decided to find a laundromat for the remainder of our items. We then went to another churrascaria for dinner so Dan could fill his desired quota of South American red meat consumption. After that, we headed back to the apartment where Dan drafted his fantasy football team that he will be managing from afar.

Day 11: Ilha Grande, Brazil -> Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Today we left Ilha Grande and made the four-hour trip back to Rio. It was mostly a travel day for us, so it was largely uneventful.

Upon arriving in Rio, we went to our new accommodation, a room we found using Airbnb. Airbnb is a website that helps match people renting out rooms or full apartments with those looking for a place to stay. Dan and I had made our selection based on pictures, location, and reviews. It turns out that the guy whose apartment we are staying in is originally from Michigan and has been living in Brazil for the past two years. He has a decent-sized apartment--massive by Manhattan standards--and he rents out three of the rooms (he himself resides behind a curtain in a makeshift bedroom/office). We are free to use the kitchen, bathroom, and living room as we please, and we are only paying a combined $38 a night. Not a bad deal!

Once settled in, Dan and I went to a casual restaurant near the apartment. Over dinner we discussed our longing for products with a higher thread count, including napkins, towels, and bedsheets (I'm not sure if this is a cultural thing or a result of the places where we have been staying). We also talked about the fact that nearly everyone we have spoken to has mistaken us for Brazilian; this has certainly worked to our advantage, as we are not recognized as tourists.

At night, we went to a Samba party at a location that is touted as the birthplace of this dance. The cab ride there was speedy because there was little traffic, and because red lights seem to be optional in Brazil. When we got to the party, we met up with our Mellow Yellow friends; while we had arranged to meet there, our ability to follow through on our plans without the use of cellphones was still remarkable to me. We all got caipirinhas and then fell into the sea of people. 

Although we showed up too late to the Samba party last week, this time we arrived early enough to see what Samba was all about. To my surprise, the festivities mainly consisted of six guys playing various instruments and singing around a table. It didn't look like much, but the crowd rippled very far out from the musical epicenter. Some people joined in singing and dancing, while others were talking and drinking with the melody acting as a backdrop to their partying.

We stayed, listened, and talked for a few hours. A little after midnight, Dan and I headed back to Copacabana Beach with five other people from five different English-speaking countries. One of the guys was going back to Mellow Yellow for the night, but the rest of us went to hang out at our friend, Kish's nearby apartment. 

We sat in Kish's kitchen and talked for awhile. The main focus of our conversation centered around the British guy named Louis. Louis is a staggeringly tall, easygoing individual with long dreadlocks and brown rimmed glasses. We learned that he is a bit of a YouTube celebrity, and has nearly one million followers (his YouTube channel is https://m.youtube.com/user/FunForLouis). He was extremely humble about his experiences, but fascinating to talk to. For example, he begrudgingly explained that the start of his internet fame came from ingesting ten blended up mice. He also told us that he travels off of the profits from his videos, went to about 24 countries last year, and has not yet totaled up his trips from this year. He meets new people wherever he goes and seems to have a never ending list of friends he can stay with during his travels. 

Our conversation was really interesting, but eventually exhaustion took over and Dan and I called it a night.

Day 10: Ilha Grande, Brazil

At 5am, Dan and I were roused awake by, as he described it, an orchestra of animal sounds (I think blogging has caused me to speak in metaphor and the affect is starting to rub off on him). Anyway, the calls were loud, REALLY loud. We heard chirps, coos, hoots, and howls (the howls coming from the tons of dogs roaming around this island). It sounded like one of those jungle alarm clocks that we couldn't shut off. Luckily, after about twenty minutes, the noise subsided and we were able to squeeze in a little more sleep.

Once officially up, we began thinking about which path we would travel down for our final full day on the island. On our first day we had explored to the right, the second day we went toward the back, so naturally, for our third day we chose to walk left. Once again, we laced up our sneakers, packed up our lunches, and set off.

The trail that we chose was a 45-minute walk to a waterfall. On our way there, we were treated with the sounds of rushing water all around us. Unfortunately, we also kept running into some odd plant that produced a smell akin to extremely offensive body odor (it became the front walker's job to call out, "hold your breath!" each time the stench returned). After a tiring, almost entirely uphill trek, we excitedly came upon the waterfall.

Dan and I enthusiastically shed our clothes to get into some refreshing, cool water. But it was really, really cold. I think we both lasted a total of five minutes before retreating to a boulder across from the cascade.

(I was content with just having the first shot, but the Italian guy taking our pictures was trying to turn it into a photoshoot and insisted we get right under the waterfall)

We hung out for a bit and had lunch on the boulder. Unfortunately, the area didn't get much light and we both wanted our sun. So after about a half hour, Dan and I took off in search of a nearby beach. We rambled along for about thirty more minutes before finally arriving oceanfront. We both quickly got into the water, only to discover that it was covered in a thin layer of oil. Eek! This was definitely not our beach.

At that point we decided to head back the way we came, and then turn off at a sign we had recalled announcing a different beach. We eventually made it to our intended destination, but by that time the area was already shaded over. So at the end of the day, we had done much more sun chasing than sunbathing. Oh well...At the very least, we got in a good workout and some great views.

Day 9: Ilha Grande, Brazil

Dan and I tried to get our day started a little earlier this morning so that we could venture to the other side of the island. After we got ourselves ready, we went to the town market to put together some bagged lunches. I decided I would have an easily assembled meal of sliced turkey and fruit. I grabbed an apple and pear, and then Dan and I went over to the meat counter to get some poultry. 

Dan has a translator app, so he typed the name of the bird into his phone and then attempted to pronounce it: "Turquia por favor." Blank stare. Dan tried to say the word one more time before he resorted to pointing to the term in his phone. The butcher looked confused and shook his head. I began to think that they were unfamiliar with turkey and that my only option would be sliced ham (which seems to exist in abundance in Brazil). However, that's when Dan realized that the accidental capitalization of a letter had left us inquiring about a Middle Eastern country. We corrected our mistake, "Peru por favor" (again, not to be confused with the country), and got the meat we had come looking for. 

While still in the market, Dan and I spotted a British couple we had befriended on our initial boat ride to the island. At that time, we had attempted to exchange numbers with them, but the island's spotty internet left us relying on good old-fashioned chance encounters. James and Willow (yes, their names are actually that British) had already been traveling for over a month, and planned to continue doing so until their money simply ran out. During our run-in, we exchanged stories about what we had been up to the previous day. It was lucky we had, because from their experience we learned we should change into sneakers for our walk. So after parting ways with the Brits, we went back to our pousada to get proper footgear, and then finally set off.

I have decided a good tagline for this island would be, "Ilha Grande: Find Your Beach." With so many beaches to choose from, Dan and I consulted a number of sources before deciding which one we would go and find. We settled on one called Dois Rios and were directed to the path that would lead us there. It was there that a sign informed us the beach was 8.6km, or a little over 5 miles away. I was instantly happy that I had changed out of my flip flips, and we began our trek. The first half of the walk was all on an incline, but we were rewarded with a downhill slope for the second part of our journey. 

Finally, after two hours, we had found our beach! It was a beautiful stretch of sand with sparkling blue water. Only a handful of people had selected the same destination, so the beach felt very exclusive. We laid out our towels, ate our lunches, and drank up the sun.

Because it is still winter in the Southern Hemisphere, the sunset here is pretty early. So Dan and I were only able to stay at the beach for a couple of hours in order to ensure we traveled back to town in daylight (there would be no lampposts to guide our walk). Ultimately, we had spent twice as much time traveling to and from Dois Rios as we had spent actually being there. Would I say the beach was worth the 10-mile round trip? Probably not. But I'm still happy we went.

When we got back to our pousada, Dan and I took some much-needed showers. I thought I had scrubbed down well, but while drying off, I removed a full extra layer of dirt from my body. Needless to say, I got more than I had bargained for on our walk.

After hanging in our room for a bit, we went to the second floor of our pousada, which doubled as an Italian restaurant at night. The owners made everything from scratch, and we decided to split a ravioli and a spaghetti dish. The pasta was some of the freshest I've ever had; it was delicious! We washed our food down with a bottle of red wine, and then rounded off the meal with brownie a la mode. We left the meal extremely satisfied and then went back downstairs to our room. The wine must have gotten the better of me because the second the lights went off, I was out.

Day 8: Ilha Grande, Brazil

Dan and I woke up this morning with the same two goals in mind: change pousadas and find sun. Despite having spent a week in Rio, we had not yet properly basked ourselves in vitamin D. So after we made an (ever so slight) upgrade to our accommodations, we dressed the role of sunbather and headed out of our room.

Upon talking to the manager of our pousada, we learned that the run-down main beach we had arrived on was far from the main attraction of this island. In fact, we discovered that Ilha Grande boasts 86! beaches in all. The town, which is basically the only inhabited part of the island, sits apart from these hidden treasures so as to preserve their quality. The manager told us that to get to the truly beautiful spots, we would have to take a 2-hour walk through the island. 

Because we had gotten a late start to the day, Dan and I opted for a closer destination. The path to the beach we had selected was well-marked, but not entirely smooth. To get there, we alternated between walking on beaches (some of which were no more than 20 yards wide) and through the jungle. To my inner explorer's delight, the jungle was complete with tall bamboo shoots, anthills up to our waists, and a whole new breed of monkeys to befriend.

After about a half hour, we arrived at our chosen beach. The ocean there was shallow and clear, but the beach had only a limited supply of dry sand to lay out on. Even still, we enjoyed the beautiful weather and water, and lounged the day away.

 

At night Dan and I explored the town a bit more, which is actually much bigger than we had initially thought. Once we tired of walking around, we landed at a kebab restaurant and indulged in some meat and red wine. We also strategized for the following day, and planned to wake up early so that we could get a better taste of what other enchantments this island contains.

Day 7: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil -> Ilha Grande, Brazil

We have officially made it to the one week mark of our trip and are no worse for wear. However, Dan and I were ready for a change of scene so we decided to relocate to Ilha Grande, "Big Island." Many people had told us about this destination off the coast of Rio, and made it sound like paradise with the absence of cars and beaches on beaches. Dan and I are due to come here when we begin our tour next week. Yet the promising weather forecast and the alluring description caused us to pay an early visit to the island. We packed up our backpacks, took a two-hour bus ride to a port, and from there headed to the island on a schooner. We sat at the bow of the carrier and enjoyed a stomach-dancing trip to our destination. 

 

Upon arrival, we had to take a 5-minute walk on the beach to get to our pousada, or inn. At that point, we were both very thankful to not need to be rolling suitcases through sand. We eagerly checked into our private! room; after five days of listening to the snoring, chattering, and morning alarms of others, this was to be a welcomed change. However, we were less than pleased to discover the trail of bugs climbing up our wall and the mosquito bites that were already amassing on our arms. We were also paid a visit by a cute, but questionable guest. 

We sprayed our walls and ourselves, and made it a point to find other accommodations for the remainder of our stay. We then went off to explore the island. While walking around, we became somewhat disappointed by the grunginess of our surroundings. I think we had both expected that we were going to land somewhere reminiscent of DiCaprio's The Beach. Instead, the tiny town looked like it had seen far too many faces and footsteps. We vowed to do some off-road exploring the following day, and retreated to our pousada to wash up. 

For dinner, Dan and I went to a nearby pousada that was offering all-you-can-eat barbecue and unlimited caipirinhas. We enjoyed our fill of the food and drinks and made friends with another American couple. The two were doing a condensed version of our trip, but it sounded like they were spending more time in the air than on land. We talked to them for a couple of hours and then decided to call it an early night.

Day 6: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Today, Dan and I took advantage of the beautiful, clear sky to go to Sugarloaf Mountain. Despite the decceptive name, which would have you thinking you were venturing into Candyland, this popular landmark is simply a destination for incredible views of the city. We had read that in order to reach the top, you could either take two separate cable-cars up or walk the first half and then ride the rest of the way to the peak. Dan and I opted for the adventurous route and came ready to go in our sneakers.

From the beginning of the trail, it became clear that marmosets are as common to Rio as squirrels are to us. Yet the regularity of their presence did not stop me from trying to get close to every single one. Dan practically had to push me on to ensure our forward momentum. Though the hike was a breeze compared to scaling Corcovado, it was still pretty physically demanding. We got to the top of the first mountain in about thirty minutes and then rode up to Sugarloaf. Once there, we were greeted with an incredible panaramic view of Rio. We even caught sight of Cristo Redentor, which seemed to almost majestically emerge through a heap of clouds.

After we had our fill of the sights, we rode back down to the top of the first mountain. While there, we indulged in a well-balanced meal of açaí and french fries. Açaí is a popular Brazilian iced treat with a consistency somewhere between frozen yogurt and sherbet. I was not crazy about the flavor, though, which to me tasted like blueberries mixed with a heavy hand of flour (Dan thought it was closer to protein powder--yumm!). Anyway, we finished up our meal, and I placed the leftover fries in a napkin to use as a peace offering toward our mini mates. 

At night, Dan and I headed to a late soccer game at Maracaña stadium. The stadium had open seating, so we were able to situate ourselves with the exact view we wanted. The stands were only about three-quarters filled (possibly because of the time or the frequency of games), but the fans were extremely energetic. Nearly everyone donned a red and black jersey in support of the local team, and there was cheering, jeering, and chanting throughout the entire match. Even when the opposition scored in the first half, the crowd only seemed to grow louder. 

In the first ten minutes of the second half, the home team tied up the game with a penalty shot. The fans were hyped and it was clear the players were feeding off of their energy. Then, with fifteen minutes remaining, the home team stormed down the field and crafted a great play that ended in a kick to the corner post. GOOOOAL!!!  Everyone erupted in a collective chant with the score that ultimately took them to a 2-1 victory. It was a great game and a great exposure to futebol in Brazil. 

Day 5: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Today, Dan and I decided to break in our hiking boots and trek to Cristo Redentor, "Christ the Redeemer." This massive statue, which basically became synonymous with Rio during the World Cup games, sits atop the 710 meter (~2300 feet or .44 miles) Corcovado mountain. In order to get to it, people can travel by van, train, or on foot. Dan and I opted for the latter and began the 1.4 mile hike in Parque Lage (the national park we had visited a few days prior).

The hike began relatively mildly, with a steady incline and a clearly marked path. However, after about 20 minutes, the trail became very steep, and our only assurance that we were going the right way was that we were traveling upwards. We quickly learned that the journey to the top would be strenuous. In many parts of the trail, Dan and I had to rely on thick tree roots or strong branches (and one time, a chainlink) to pull ourselves up.

When traveling through a different city, people are likely to take note of the mundane because they are hypersensitive to any changes in their surroundings. This is perhaps even more true when traveling through a non-urban landscape. While hiking through the jungle, I found myself surveying nearly everything, from the shape of the leaves to the color of the tree roots (some of which were bright red or deep amber, interestingly enough). So I was on particularly high alert when, during our second water break, Dan and I heard rustlings in the distance.

At first, I thought the sound was coming from other hikers. However, when the noise got closer and the trail behind remained empty, I began to shift my gaze upward. Out of a far-off tree, a little monkey soon emerged. We instantly made eye contact--me and my new monkey friend. Then, he started jumping from branch to branch to get closer to us! I began imitating his chirps and clicks to engage him in proper conversation. Slowly but surely, he leapt his way closer until he was directly looking down on us. It was amazing!  

(I wish the picture did this guy justice)

I could have happily hung out with my new friend all day, but after about 20 minutes, Dan snapped me back to reality and we continued our climb. Incredibly, not even 5 minutes later, we were in for an even bigger treat. Two marmosets were hanging on tree trunks directly beside the trail! (I generally refrain from using exclamation points this often, but ahhhh!! Monkeys!!!) They were most definitely accustomed to seeing people because they did not shy away when we got next to them. Once again, I was in my happy place. The marmosets soon departed, but not before I managed to snap a selfie.

For the rest of the way up, I continued to ride the high of seeing these amazing creatures. The climb itself was also incredibly exhilarating to the point that Dan and I were both a little sad when we finally got to the top. Sure enough, though, after about an hour and a half we had reached the summit. 

(Three-quarters of the way up)

We arrived at a turnstile where we were asked to present our tickets for Cristo Redentor. Tickets?? Where were we to purchase said tickets? Not only did the attendants at the start of the trail neglect to mention anything about our entry, but the workers at the top were also apparently done selling tickets for the day. We learned that if we wanted to see the monument, we would have to take a van ride back down and purchase our admission there. It was too late to climb our way back down anyway, so we knew we had no other choice. 

Once we got to the ticket booth, we discovered that the credit card machine had just broken and we were just shy of the cash needed for entry. At that point, we also realized the sky had clouded over into a thick white haze, so our view from the top would have been rather unremarkable. It became clear that it was not meant to be. To be honest, I wasn't that upset; this was one of those instances when the experience was all about the journey rather than the destination.

At night, Dan and I decided to go to a churrascaria, or a Brazilian steakhouse, to treat ourselves to a well-earned meal. We ended up at a highly recommended restaurant called Porcão. While the meat was really good, we both questioned whether it was on par with the better offerings in New York. However, this did not stop us from stuffing our faces and finishing off with a sizable slice of dulce de leche cake for dessert.

Day 4: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Monday morning, Dan and I checked into the hostel where we would be spending the next three nights. Compared to our prior two accommodations, this place came equipped with hot and high-pressure showers, fresh (rather than mildewy or nonexistent) towels, warm blankets (instead of top sheets disguised as such), and it had an overall clean feeling. Dan and I felt like we were moving up in the world!

Once we were settled into our four-person suite, we took off for the beach. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, the weather was chilly with an overcast sky. Dan and I decided to walk beside the ocean rather than posting camp. We were both pleasantly surprised by how clean the beach was for a seemingly overrun area. The sand was incredibly soft and could best be described as feeling like sifted flour under our toes. Rio's two most famous beaches, Copacabana and Ipanema Beach, connect at a rocky overlook atop which Dan and I hung out. We had amazing views of the area, and sat for awhile just watching the waves crash in.

At night, Dan and I rejoined with a few of our Mellow Yellow hostel friends, as well as a couple of new faces. With four continents and six countries represented, we were like a traveling United Nations. Our group went to meet up with some people who were at a Samba party due to end at midnight. Considering it was a quarter of when we got in a taxi, I was a little confused about why we would bother driving all the way to the party. However, upon arriving it became clear that the party had simply transplanted onto the street. 

We spent the next couple hours talking, drinking, and making new friends. By the end of the night, I had gained a new appreciation for the--sometimes minute, sometimes significant--differences among regional perspectives, on topics ranging from pop culture to politics.

Day 3: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Today we started our day with a rather unpleasant surprise. We learned that good old Administrator Sebastian had failed us yet again. 

We had initially booked our room for two nights, but decided to extend for one more night when Sebastian told us our room would still be available. However, he called us in the morning to inform us he had unknowingly (how I ask?) already given the room away to another guest who was due to arrive shortly. Dan and I were forced to rouse ourselves awake, pack our bags, and search for a new place to stay within a mere two-hour window. I chalked all of this up to being "part of the experience" so as to avoid fuming from the ears.

Dan and I departed to the sound of Sebastian's apologies and headed to our next destination. We ended up at a place called Mellow Yellow Villa, a true hostel where the staff was around our age and the rooms were shared quarters. Dan and I were put in a four-person room; only one bed was occupied, but the guy was still sleeping at 2pm and the room had a funky smell to it, so we were in and out as quickly as possible.

We decided to go to see a part of Rio that the Parisians had recommended to us the night before. We took a short ride on the metro, only to get off and realize that without internet and GPS, we had no means of locating our exact end point. We figured we would hunt for an Internet cafe, but first made our way through a nearby outdoor market. The market was filled with poultry, fish, and produce stands.  All of the fruits and vegetables looked incredibly vibrant and fresh. 

After leaving the market and accessing the internet, we found our intended destination: a cafe at the peak of a beautiful hilltop village called Santa Teresa. There, we had a delicious meal and then walked around the area. We had a great view of Rio and also caught sight of some cute telephone wire walkers. 

 

We then ventured back to Mellow Yellow Villa. At the hostel, Dan and I made fast friends with a few different hostel workers and some of their friends. One of the hostel workers, a pretty blonde named Vicky, invited us to a party where her friend was djing. Before long, we were dressed and hanging at the hostel bar where we were given complimentary caipirinhas, and then ordered second ones for 5 Reais each (the equivalent of $2.50 for a very strong cocktail). We hung out and talked for awhile before making our way to the party.

Our small crew was comprised of me, Dan, Vicky (an Argentinian), Vicky's boyfriend, Bruno (a Brazilian), Christian (a New Zealander), and Kish (a Fijian Indian from Tasmania). I spent most of the 15-minute walk with Vicky, who was educating me on the cultural differences between North and South America. More specifically, she explained how the South American mindset about sexuality is more "socially advanced." Whereas North Americans are "tied down by monogamy," in her culture, even if she is in a relationship, there is no fault in having as many partners--regardless of gender--as she pleases.

The talk was certainly enlightening, and I had expected to move on from there once we arrived at the party. However, not so. At this point, things took a turn for the weird. Vicky spent the better part of the night trying to convince me and Dan to swap partners with her and her boyfriend. Who with whom was unclear--girl & girl? girl & boy? They made several attempts to individually corner us and used various tactics of persuasion. Despite the fact that they were both beautiful people and made strong cases for infidelity (would it have even counted as infidelity? I was clearly far outside of familiar territory), Dan and I declined their offer. By 3am we retreated from the party and decided to call an end to our interesting night.

Day 2: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

We now have internet, yay! Dan and I went into this trip knowing that our access to Internet would be spotty, but until you are without, you forget how much you use it. The hostel administrator, Sebastian, unsuccessfully attempted to fix it, at which point I channeled my inner Marlene to insist upon a discount. Eventually Sebastian switched his modem with ours so we are now in contact with the outside world.

After wasting the morning away on the internet and having, you guessed it!, leftover chicken for lunch, we were  ready to go on our first big outing. Dan and I read in our trusty guide book that we could go to a place called Parque Lage and from there, hike up to the famous "Christ the Redeemer" statue that overlooks the city. We cabbed it to the park, and were so enamored by the foliage that we decided to walk around the grounds and save the hike for another day.

Parque Lage gives you a sense of what Rio must have looked like before it was a city. The trees make you feel as though you are walking through the jungle, but the park also has a mini aquarium, man-made caves, scenic pathways, and some furry friends.

After leaving the park, we decided to walk the three miles home, the better part of which was around a massive lake. The path around the lake was reminiscent of a walk through Central Park, but hot dogs, pretzels, and peanuts were replaced by popcorn, churros, and coconuts. And rather than squirrels, there were these guys (capybaras):

The long walk left us content with lounging in our room for the next few hours. Eventually, we decided to go out for a late dinner at Zaza, a bistro Dan had read about in our guide book. It was a nice (and completely safe- *wink* parents) fifteen minute walk to the restaurant. Even though we hadn't arrived until about 11pm, there was still a half hour wait to be seated. We took that as a sign of a good meal ahead, so we ordered cocktails--or rather, tried our hand at ordering each other's drinks--and made conversation with two Parisians as we waited. Two hours, a bottle of red wine, and a pleasantly full stomach later, we made our way home and called it a night.

Day 1: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Despite taking Advil PM at the beginning of the flight, sleep was not in the cards for me. Every half hour or so, I would enviously glance over at Sleeping Beauty next to me, while I would continue to toss and turn. I probably slept a quarter of the flight at-most, so needless to say I was pretty groggy upon arrival.

Going through the airport in Rio was a swift process. We went through customs, got our bags, and found our ride in the span of thirty minutes. The administrator of our hostel was also our driver, and as soon as we were in his car, I was out cold. About an hour later, we arrived at our hostel and the administrator led us to our room.

The arrangement of our room is more like a mini apartment than traditional hostel quarters, with a kitchenette, tv, and bathroom all included. We were supposed to have internet as well, but for some reason our modem was broken. Dan and I attempted to get internet for a short period of time before we were lured into bed and slept the next few hours away.

Upon waking up, Dan and I decided to explore our surrounding area. Our continued sleepiness, and the chilly, overcast weather left us in a bit of a hazy state. Nevertheless, we took a nice stroll to the beach and then got some lunch, where I naturally mis-ordered and we ended up with enough chicken to last us for a couple of days. After that, we did a quick supermarket run and then retreated back to our room.

The flight really got the best of both of us, and we were content with lying in bed for the next few hours. Eventually I took a long-overdue shower to rouse me awake. Unfortunately, surprise!, the water was cold. As in, shave your legs in the sink and arch your back so only your hair makes contact with the water, cold. Needless to say, I was in and out as quickly as possible.

After a little more lounging around and chicken eating, Dan and I decided to venture out into the city. We had read and heard that a section of Rio called Lapa has great night life, so we hopped in a taxi and headed into the unknown.

Lapa is a bit like the Lower East Side on steroids. The streets are filled with young people and lined with both food and alcohol vendors. We initially walked around hesitantly with our mojito and caipirinha, until we noticed the number of individuals who also had a beverage in-hand. Long lines trickled out of various clubs, sidewalks were much more crowded than some bars, and dress was surprisingly casual (Dan and I blended right in). 

We were both surprised by how many locals there were in a seemingly touristy area. Everywhere we walked, we were met with Portuguese exchanges, which Dan described as sounding like Spanish with a Russian accent. It turns out that understanding Spanish does not help at all when trying to decipher Portuguese. Few people we have met speak English, so the language barrier has been a bit of a struggle so far. Nevertheless, we enjoyed our first night out.

The Journey Begins

After three short weeks of planning, Dan and I are now only 30 minutes away from landing in Rio. The preparation up to this point was time-consuming, but not terrible. It involved: getting a visa for Brazil, creating (albeit loosely) an itinerary, gathering paperwork together, and, of course, packing.

Dan and I decided early on that if we were going to "backpack" through South America, we were going to do it properly. That meant I needed to condense my belongings into a shoulders-worth of weight. By my family's standards, one extra large suitcase for one week of travel, and two giant duffles for two months of camp is normal. Luckily for me, overpacking is a learned, rather than innate, trait. Therefore,  whittling my possessions down to one large backpack was not as impossible as I had initially imagined.

All-in-all, I was pretty proud of my packing job: 

Just to give a sense of quantity, I have about 12 tops, 10 bottoms, undergarments, a toiletry bag, 4 pairs of shoes, and some other odds and ends. A blow dryer did not make the packing list (although I kind of cheated by getting the keratin treatment a few days before we left). I was shocked to see that I had a little space left over after I finished packing, so naturally I threw in a couple of extra tops for good measure. I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before I discover what I left out, but for now I will just enjoy the ride...