grilled cheese and banana sandwich? Yes please.

I have great hopes that I'll get through Rio in this episode of whatever this is. A travel log? That's overdue by a year? Me just blathering for the heck of it? Whatever it is, I am hoping I'll just shut up about it after this.

Wednesday in Rio.  Some friends and I travelled over to Santa Teresa for lunch and a wander through this charming little spot.    

 Tahira (headband) and Suzanna (long blond hair next to me) were also leaving Rio later that day. Tahira was going home, Suzanna was off on a months long sojourn through South America.  I watched her travels on facebook and drooled with jealousy.

The food at this little spot was excellent. 

The plates were twee, the sandwich delicious.  We wandered the streets of Santa Teresa, wandering in to a fancy hotel/restaurant/club thing, took some pictures and left.  Santa Teresa has some fascinating tiles and pretty bits:

We made our way back to the hostel, eventually. Fred continued his lessons on how to speak proper BBC english.  Apparently it's all about elongating your vowels.  We also had a long conversation about snogging in the taxi. Why do I remember this? I think we drove by the love hotel again - maybe that's why snogging came up. Figuratively, I feel compelled to point out.

Couldn't begin to tell you what I did with the rest of the afternoon - other than signing up for hang gliding the next day.  I went for supper with Airell and Fred at the kilo restaurant just outside our hostel.  They had caiphirinia - regular size and grande.

I didn't have any plans for the evening so I figured ehhh, why not? I had the grande.  

I was swiftly stupider than usual but also very happy.  I recall that Fred was not happy to be going home - and was just basically questioning everything to do with life.

I can say from personal experience this is a pretty common thing amongst backpackers/travellers in South America.  I felt it myself.

We finished eating and it was not near time for Fred's taxi to arrive.  So we ordered another round of drinks.  Airell got his own grande caiphirinia and I? Had another.  

Sweet. Heavenly. Christmas. On. A. Jewish. Cracker.

I wasn't sure what language was my mother tongue by the time I finished that drink.  There's a saying in Rio that after a certain number of caiphirnias you can speak portuguese.  They aren't far off.  We waved Fred off, sadly, then, as it was only 7pm we went back to the hostel and spent a happy hour or so deciding what we might do with the rest of the evening.

The hostel guy had lots of options.  This bar! That place! This thing! That other thing!

We eventually settled on a nightclub that let girls in for free (or almost free) and charged guys $20. But! Beer was free between 10pm and midnight.  They also did samba lessons.

Like I needed more alcohol at that point!  After making ourselves beautiful (ok, after Airell made himself beautiful) we headed out to the club.  

We were early.  There's nothing more off-putting than an empty club so we decided to walk around the area.  That's when we found a street fair a block or so away - right by the beach.  

We bought things. Oh my crap, we bought almost all the things.  Weird stringed instruments. 2 of them! One for each of us! A 2-person hammock - THAT I DIDN'T WANT! (now am very glad I have it, will look lovely on my deck) Where would I put it while at the club? But I started bartering for fun and then walked away after a few minutes, forgetting that that is the way to get the best deal on a thing - and damned if I didn't get that hammock for the ridiculous, rock bottom price I'd offered. Tshirts. Airell bought a dress.

Eventually it was after 10ish and we headed back to the club, weighed down with our piles of crap. Imagine our joy when we found out we could store our crap behind the front desk (there was a hostel upstairs, the front desk was for the club and the hostel).

I decided to do the samba lessons - I did pretty well at it since my head was utterly disconnected from my feet - this is vital for my dancing success.  I danced. I drank a lot of beer. I met people. Did more dancing. Made friends. Practiced my portuguese. Danced some more. Etc.  At midnight the crazy pile of people around the bar magically disappeared.  The rest of the night is mostly a blur.  

Mostly. I will only say that we formalized the 'what happens in Rio' pact the next morning. 

I went home sometime after 3am, well before Justin Bieber Airell.  He'd met his own new friends and heaven knows I was not his keeper and I was exhausted.  Thankfully, the hostel had a pile of business cards in their common area - I was constantly grabbing one before I left so I'd be able to show the address to the driver.  My portuguese and alcohol intake were not to be trusted.  I was short of money for the cab fare so I had to go to the hostel and dig through my wallet and back to the cab with the difference.  

Then I passed out after drinking about 3 gallons of water straight from the tap (they had filtered water but I ignored this). Airell was smarter than me and remembered the stuff we'd left behind the front desk - eventually - I think I remember he had to go back after starting out for the hostel.  I didn't remember it until I saw the bag of crap on the floor next to my bed the next morning.  The room we were in at the time was connected to a private room - I think this was when I met an Australian couple whose names I cannot recall but for some bizarre reason they thought Airell and I were awesome (ok not that bizarre, we are clearly awesome but they figured it out really quickly).  They were staying in the private room connected to our dorm.  

Airell had also signed up for the hang gliding thing - but when I got up and went downstairs the hostel owner informed me that the winds were too high so the hang gliding cliff was closed for the day.

Well dammit. What to do with the day?   

I suppose I should have gone to see the Lapa steps.  I just didn't think of it at the time.  Airell wanted to go see Jesus - and I think I offered to go with him if he wanted company - but I'd have been happy to spend the day on the beach too.

We ended up collecting a couple other people from the hostel to go with us - one named Bruce Lee! For Reals! and another very nice man from France, a doctor? psychiatrist? neurologist? whose name I cannot remember.  We got directions on which bus to take and set off for a bus stop.  Whereupon we waited for quite some time.  Finally! A bus with the number we wanted came flying towards us!

It did not stop despite our frantic waving.  A kind local explained that you needed to read the side of the bus shelters to see which buses actually stop at them. Ahhhh.  So we headed down the street to the next bus shelter and shortly the bus we needed turned up.

When I'd gone up corcovado with Val, we'd done so on the express city tour.  We rode in our bus, transfered to one of the park vans and were driven to the base of an elevator on the backside of Jesus.  Express and quick, certainly.  The guide told us that there was a train from the base of the mountain but you could wait a long time (hours!) to ascend the mountain that way.

That may be true on a weekend or the summer, definitely.  It's not a big train. The bus stopped across the street from the corcovado train station and we got tickets on the next train, in half an hour.  

Just enough time for frozen yogurt if memory serves.  

 The ride up on the train was tantalizing - lots of trees and then incredible vistas, then more trees.  Have I mentioned that Rio is one of the most beautiful cities in the world?  Amazing.

Taken from the train.

From the viewing area on the mountain.  You can see Sugarloaf in the distance.

Artsy Jesus.

It's just what you do there.

I don't remember taking this picture. Huh. That's the rest of the group.  

Bruce and the other guy went to save a spot in line for the train back down while I worked with Airell to collect geocache stuff.  By the time we got to the bottom of the mountain, we were starving.  And there wasn't really a good place to eat near there - we walked quite a way before we came across a little deli.  That had this beauty in the cooler:  

Airell and I split it.  It was pretty good.  

Also got one of these:

Grilled cheese and banana sandwich!  Also good. Weird. But good. Try it if you have the chance.

We debated going up Sugarloaf to watch the sunset - but then it started to rain.  So we got on a bus back to the hostel and I promptly fell asleep.

I woke up when I nearly dropped my phone on the floor.  I must have felt a need to capture the moment forever in the picture above?  How didn't I realize how sick I was at this point - it defies all logic. I never sleep during the day, unless I'm sick and even then it takes time to happen.  I sat down at the back of this bus and just.... fell asleep.  As I am told people do.

That night the guy from France, Airell and a new friend from Austria and I went to some random street somewhere in Rio where the locals go to drink beer. In the street.  I was so tired it almost hurt me - I lasted until 1am-ish and then grabbed a cab back to the hostel with the French guy.  

I wish I remembered his name.  He was nice.  Like oatmeal though.  Glad I went home when I did, the others watched someone get mugged later in the evening.  

I could go on, but the next day deserves its own post - and since it is one year exactly tomorrow, I'll leave it for then.  I wrote this right around this time.  Pretty good window inside my head.  My crazy, crazy head.

Comments

[Nikon d5100]

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