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.