I made it to Rio yesterday! I cannot tell you how happy I felt to be on that flight. Not happy to be thinking about all the things that were going to happen when I got to Rio, all the things I would see, all the food I would eat, all the people I would meet, just happy to be sitting on that plane, at that moment, on my way. It was quite blissful.
Arriving in Rio felt like coming home to me, as strange as that may sound. Partially, I’ve flown into this airport before, knew what to expect, and recognized certain landmarks. Beyond that, though, even being in the taxi – speaking negligible Portuguese – and winding my way to my AirBnB had a certain air of coming home about it. I know it’s not about coming home to Rio, but about coming home to something I love – travel. The newness, the unexpected, the not knowing what’s around the corner, the learning to speak the language, the being fairly out of control – it all commands your attention, your focus, right now, right here. It’s exhilarating.
I flew from Portland, a fair ways north of the equator, just after the summer solstice when the sun sets around 9pm(?) and arrived in Rio, a little ways south of the equator, just after the winter solstice when the sun sets around 5:15pm – quite a difference! The flight was an overnighter, 9 hours, and, despite having two seats – a whole row – all to myself on the flight here, I didn’t sleep well on the plane. I arrived Thursday morning tired and jet-lagged and spent most of the daylight hours sleeping. I didn’t want to spend my very first night in the city walking around after dark, so I found a place nearby for dinner and called it a night. I was surprised when I was ready for bed around 11pm after sleeping so much of the day, but then I slept a good 12 hours(!), not getting out of bed this morning until 11:30am.
I hit the town and found a place for lunch, then went for a walk to familiarize myself with the local area. At one point, I was enticed up a wide staircase that had been decorated with paint and tiles and such (forgive me for not taking pictures – I stick out enough as it is, I don’t wish to call any more attention to myself by snapping photos). It was very lovely, but I had no idea where it went. There were homes along the staircase, old buildings that were built tightly together and which were beautiful in the way that decaying old buildings are. It wasn’t an actual favela – a Brazillian slum – but it looked like it to my eyes. There were a few people sitting around or traversing the staircase, as well. When I got to the top, it let out onto a couple narrow streets and, after consulting Apple, I decided to keep going straight up the hill in front of me. When I got to the top of the hill, there was a beautiful view of Rio to the south. Christ the Redeemer was off to the west and shrouded in clouds while the rest of Rio unfolded out toward Copacabana and Ipanema beaches.
At this point, I turned around and meandered back in the direction I’d come from, walking up and down side streets, trying to get a feel for the layout and where things were. A few blocks to my east is a small park in a traffic circle with exercise equipment anyone can just walk up and use – simple elliptical gliders and such. Located on that circle is a hospital in a very old building that looks more like an old palace or museum. I walked by one of the entrances and saw curving, ornate staircases with black and gold-colored paint just inside the door. I got a small acai cup from some girls selling them nearby. I walked by a huge cathedral that looks nothing like what you would think a cathedral should look like, but looked like a huge, upside-down bee hive (wide on bottom and narrow on top). Then I stumbled upon the Lapa Arches. The Lapa Arches are quite the landmark, standing nearly 60 feet high, bright white, with two rows of Romanesque arches. The Arches were built in 1723 as part of the Carioca Aqueduct to bring water from the Carioca river to the city. I didn’t get any photos myself, but I found this lovely image for you (the Cathedral I was talking about is in the background, as well):
Interacting with the locals has been fun, mostly because I’m so inept at communicating with them and am largely at their mercy, and I think they’re not too sure what to make of me. I doubt they get many foreigners running around the city alone who speak practically no Portuguese, especially women. So far, I’ve only had occasion to interact with waiters, shop keepers, and the doormen at the apartment complex. Oh, and one other building resident, but he spoke English (he told me I didn’t have a California accent, which I thought was amusing). Everyone has been friendly and accommodating.
If you read my about page, you know that the premise for my travels is to learn to dance whatever the local dance is. Zouk is the dance I’ll be learning in Brazil, and I’ve been in touch with a Zouk instructor here, but I’m not sure when she’s actually going to be able to accommodate me. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to a few adventures that will take me farther afoot than my local surroundings – using the metro and bus systems to visit Christ the Redeemer and the Botanical Gardens.
TL;DR: Enjoying being an American fool in Rio.
