Rio de Janeiro

So, I spent my last weekend in Brazil in the infamous Rio de Janeiro. Since it’s been a few months now, the details are pretty fuzzy. But that’s okay, because the highlights of the trip are all that really matter. Unfortunately the weather wasn’t wonderful while we were there, which is great because it gives me a good reason to go back. Here are my top 4 memories:

1) People-watching on the beach in Copacabana  (Rio is by far the best place to do this)

2) Going out in Lapa with people from our hostel.

3) An all-day tour the following day where I was sick. Very sick. I was nauseous and could barely stand up, all the while vehemently fighting the urge to run to the bathroom every 5 minutes, which I failed at more often than not. Again, it was another one of those moments I had when I was in Greece when I said to myself “How can I be in such a beautiful, picturesque place and feel like death?” Some things never make sense…or change.

4) On the 4^th of July, walking miles in the pouring rain trying to find an HSBC. I only had about $15 left in my bank account, and needed $10 to get a ride to the airport (they only accepted cash). HSBC was the only bank that 1) accepted my card and 2) I could withdrawal a $10 bill, because that was all that I had.

Eventually, we found an HSBC and my trip to Rio was complete after we made it to the airport and flew back to São Paulo. It did not turn out in the least bit as I had planned (perfect weather, perfect beaches, perfect health…) but it gave me countless memories that I’ll never be able to forget. Or remember. 

So, we got back to Sao Paulo around 9pm on Monday night. I packed up my Brazilian life in my suitcase, since Fernando was coming to pick me up around 3:30am the following morning to take me to the airport and bid farewell. I was exhausted and still not fully recovered from the weekend, so when I finished packing around 12am I thought it would be wise to take a short nap before my 24 hour journey home via El Salvador and Peru. Well, when I went to set my alarm to wake me up, I found that I already packed it. Not only had I already packed it, but I did such a good job packing I couldn’t find it. So, what did I do? I stayed awake. I clearly had no choice. I wish I could say I found rest and repose on my three 5 hour plane rides home, but I did not. Everytime I wanted to sleep, here came the food. I could not skip over the food. So I stayed awake. All 48 hours.

I got home at 6am on July 5^th and have been stateside since. 


I've definitely been missing Brazil-- the food, the warmness of the culture and its people, the nuns, Fernando, the whole nine yards. I miss it all. However, I'm lucky enough that one of my adult students this semester is from Brazil. As I'm leaving every night after class, her and her sister teach me a new phrase in Portuguese. So, I'm still connected to my Brazilian people in some way. 

I embark on my next journey on January 2^nd. I’ll be leaving DC around 6pm, flying to LA, Hong Kong, and then finally Kuala Lumpur for an orientation that will last a few weeks. 

I’ll be living in Kuantan, which is on the east coast of the Malaysian peninsula. I’ll be teaching at a high school which is about half a mile away from the beach. I'm not sure of my living arrangements yet, but should be finding out soon. 

Gay Pride Parade Misadventure in São Paulo

São Paulo Gay Parade 2011

This may be one of the most memorable moments I had in São Paulo, though my writing about it months later can only do it so much justice. It was my last weekend there and I needed to quickly bargain for some souvenirs for my people back at home. I always do this last minute, you think I would have learned my lesson by now, since last time in Rome I was forced to go souvenir shopping with a black eye the night before I came home, but that’s another story…

Sr. Marinez, the principle of the school and kind of the “nun in charge” at the convent, took Michelle and I to an outside market. We didn't find much. Instead, I was thinking about the first market I went to in São Paulo where there were a million stands set up and you felt compelled to buy everything because you thought you'd never come across anything like it again. I always had wanted to go back but never did, so I asked Sr. Marinez if we could go there. She was hesitant to take us since this market was on the main avenue in downtown São Paulo and the gay parade was going on. (Naturally, I find out after the whole ordeal that it's the biggest in the world with over 4 million people) Many streets would be blocked off and we knew it would be really crowded. Anyways, after doing some research on the best way to get there, we ended up taking the bus downtown and then the metro which was an adventure in and of itself.  It was a dreadful, cold rainy day. Not a day where you want to be on a bus, and then a metro, and then walk outside for hours.


Now, go to this link. Parade Video You only need to watch the first few seconds of the video to see what we walked into...


Finally, we got out onto the street where the market was and it was hysteria, as you can see from the video.  Earsplitting techno music was booming all around us. There were intoxicated, half-naked people surrounding us, too much PDA, people peeing in the streets and on buildings...I had never been to anything like that in my life, and poor, poor Sr. Marinez…

We were so close to the market but it took us almost an hour just to walk a block there since we had to walk IN the parade to get past the blocked off streets. Yes, I made a nun walk in the biggest gay parade in the world. We were pushing through people and poor Sr. Marinez was beyond distraught and just plain mortified. It was blatantly obvious that she was absolutely and utterly shocked…all thanks to me needing to get souvenirs. The real kicker is that once we finally got to the market, it was closed! I knew an apology was in order, even though a million and one apologies could never erase the images that were charred in her head that day. I told her I was sorry, and she just nodded her head. Ouch. These were the absolute worst things a nun could ever see, and I exposed her to them. I have no idea how many Hail Mary’s it will take her to overcome that, if she is ever able to.


Oops.