2016...I'll be back!

One more reason I love Google! Upon waking up this morning, after my coffee and cake (another thing I love about living in Brasil-cake for breakfast) I saw this in my browser. If google can draw attention to it, then it needs to be discussed, right?

I've known of, from the moment I got off the plane almost 5 months ago, Rio's desire to host the 2016 Olympics. The dozen or so gigantic bright white and green billboards strewn along the highway were certainly not going to go unnoticed by anyone, including me. I, having never had any interest in the Olympics, suddenly took notice. I too began hoping that Rio-my new city, my new home so to speak-would be chosen as the Olympics' new host.

The year 2016 is not even a dot on my radar at the moment, and it is likely that I won't be living here, given that it is 7 years away-and my time here has an expiration date. And yet, even though I won't be a citizen of this great city for much longer I can't help but feel an inkling of the pride displayed below, for a city that captivates me on a daily basis.




Now I can add to my bucket list (yes I really keep one of those) 'Return to Rio for 2016 Olympics'

Congratulations Rio, I'm grateful to have been here to witness your victory!

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I miss you a little more today than yesterday....a little less than tomorrow...

In my 25 years on this great big earth, I have attempted to cook less than a half a dozen proper meals. That's not to say I can't boil a mean egg or that my Ramen Noodles aren't the best around, but to be honest I gave up cooking, in the conventional sense right around the time puberty hit.

But I do have two distinct memories of myself in the kitchen. Both events revolve around my very favorite person in the world, these memories are, not surprisingly, surfacing now for a very specific reason....

Age 6 (or perhaps 7-that part is fuzzy), my mom's birthday, very early in the morning (back when getting up was fun and Sunday morning cartoons still stimulated my soul). I must have heard of breakfast in bed from a movie or soap opera my mother watched, and was convinced that all women, young and old, really wanted was breakfast in bed and a handsome man to serve it to them (I'm not wholly unconvinced at the age of 25 that it's not what most women still want-but I digress).

I couldn't conjure up a handsome man for her, but I thought that me + breakfast in bed would be sufficient. I wasn't old enough to use the oven, microwave or handle sharp objects...so that left me with very few options for my elaborate birthday present.

The finished product was white bread, un-toasted (wasn't allowed to use the toaster oven either) very thickly spread butter, using a spoon that left giant holes in the bread, tomato juice (it's all i could find), banana, cut using my teeny little fingers and a hard boiled egg, minus the boiled (at 6 I hadn't figured out that eggs didn't come ready made).

My mother had tears in her eyes when I showed up in her bed with my present. Whether the tears stemmed from realizing she had the most thoughtful little girl in the world, or (the more likely) realization that not only would she have to eat this atrocious mess in front of her little girl while she sat watching, overcome with pride, but she would also have to clean up the mess her little monster had undoubtedly created in the kitchen. Happy Birthday Mom! ;)

Fast forward 7 years to my second and last recollection, where all my hopes of being a chef were eliminated (exaggerate much?).

It was my attempt to cook dinner for my exhausted over-worked mother. I decided to play house by cleaning and cooking dinner, so that we could have a proper family meal. No one mentioned that you had to boil the pasta and cook the beans before making lasagna. You can fill in the blanks, needless to say-the food was inedible. But she ate it. And told me it was delicious. It wasn't until about 2 years later, when the jokes about my cooking started that I realized that she had eaten raw pasta and uncooked beans to appease me.


Unconditional Love

That was her.
Til the very end.

But now, she is gone.


There are days when it still doesn't feel real. Days when the idea that she won't laugh at my silly statements, my colossal messes and ridiculous observations seems impossible...She's not here to tell me to stop swearing, quit jangling my keys or that I am the most precious being on this earth...

In her absence..I have curbed my foul language, I am now the one telling other people not to play with their keys...and I'm working on the latter.


This whole trip down memory road was spurred by my return to the kitchen...I have actually started making things that don't come with directions or require a can opener...and might I say, objectively of course, that I'm not half bad at it!


Your little girl is officially growing up....


*I hope you're proud*

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In Honor of the One I Love

Looking Back....No matter where I go....my heart will always belong to one. New York City. My one true love.

I dreamed as a child of moving to the Big Apple and living among the famous elite, eccentric artists and smelly homeless. Ok-maybe that last part is a lie, but I did dream of what my life would be like in New York City from about the age of 13, a life beyond the small boring town I had been inhabiting.

When I was 18 I packed my bags and headed off to college in the city that has made and broken many a dream. Everyone knew I would live there, in fact there are people who had often told me I would never leave and scoffed at the idea of me leaving. I knew there was more to life than the 22.96 square mile island of Manhattan situated between the Hudson and East River.

There was a big world out there, and I wanted to be a part of it-a speck among many, a fish out of water-surrounded by places and people both strange and enticing to me. So at 24, I did leave, I left the only place that truly felt like home. And I don't regret leaving...but I find myself remembering lately, the life and love I left behind...

New York for some is a place to get rich, to find love, to realize a childhood dream, for some it's simply a great place to get laid and drunk on a daily basis, but for me, New York City represents the place where I was able to just be.

Growing up in a small town, I had to pretend to be something I wasn't. Happy. Composed. Strong. The struggles I faced at home, I kept to myself. But moving to New York, I could be me. Angry at times. Bitter if need be. It is fast paced, dirty, rude and at it's best- RAW and allowed me to act accordingly. New York City was the best teacher I ever had-it kicked my ass, and took me through a roller coaster of emotions, only to reveal my most basic instincts.

It was here that I fell in love for the first time. My first heartbreak. Friendships made. Bonds betrayed. The biggest loss of my life. And every time, when I turned to MY city for comfort, it held me, soothed me and then shoved me out the door to do it all over again.

Thank you NYC. You are all things good and bad to me. And we've had our problems but you will forever be home. I miss you. Until we meet again, dear friend.

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Jungle Fever

Living in any city in any country in the world, no matter how beautiful and exciting tends to be draining. The bright lights and constant commotion plug into your energy source to propel you forward, but at times they act as chains, suspending you in time and space. At times like this, many of us need to retreat, to find refuge in the tranquility, some call it the country or suburbs, but if you happen to be fortunate enough to live in Rio, you call it Parque Nacional da Tijuca. To be surrounded by lush forest, exotic wildlife and plentiful waterfalls and hiking trails, you need only hop on a bus and head towards the National Park.

Last weekend, feeling weighed down and tired of fast paced life here in Rio (believe it or not, it can happen even in the cidade marvilhosa) I headed to the park in search of a little peace and quiet, and found exactly that.

Spanning 46 square miles, it is considered the largest urban rain forest in the world. With beautiful panoramic views of the gorgeous landscape of rio, 30 or more waterfalls and multiple entry points, you can visit every week for the next 6 months and still find something new to discover each time. We spent a total of 6 hours wandering into and around the park and didn't even see a speck of what the park has to offer. We followed some decent and not so decent trails and came across about 12 waterfalls.

I have since taken a different route into the forest, which can be accessed through Santa Teresa, my bairro, but still haven't seen all there is to see. I hope to climb the Pico da Tijuca, hike to the top of Pedra da Gavea and see some more of the amazing wildlife that the jungle has to offer before I leave this great city.

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New and Improved

Pitiful. My dedication to this blog has been nothing short of inadequate. I realize my apprehension to write here is based on two things.

One being, this is not a travel blog. It was simply started to facilitate the purging of feelings, ideas and random insights into my unconventional decision to leave my country and life in pursuit of the unknown. Somewhere along the way I forgot this. I felt obligated to write of great adventures and list the MUST DO's in Rio, but guess what, I'm not a tour guide, nor do I have any desire to be.

My love of writing is selfish, it feeds my soul in a way that few things on this earth do-it clears my head and forces the chaotic ramblings of a silly girl to have structure and purpose. It will win me no awards, no great sums of money, but it helps me find meaning in the trivial and sometimes unexplainable. And that is enough for me. Some meditate, use drugs, I write. It's my escape.

My other concern was for the few people who I knew were reading this. Those invited and those who stumbled upon it unbeknownst to me. When I started writing, I hadn't considered that someone could google my name and stumble upon my little haven of words. I worried that I might offend or bore these visitors. Such a silly concept. But for this reason I chose not to write here because writing for "you" became a chore.

So now I'm taking back MY blog, writing nonsensical thoughts, lyrics to my favorite cheap teeny pop songs, my favorite quotes. Whatever I feel like. It's my place to vent and discuss. If it's read, wonderful. If not, I will write anyway.

So if you are here...welcome! :)

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Toto...I have a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore!

Tonight I decided to take it easy. The plan was to curl up on the couch with one of the many horrible black market dvds, here at the pousada and have an uneventful, mind-numbing evening.

As the night shift was coming to an end, I was running through my list of things to do for tomorrow, contemplating what to eat for dinner and trying to coerce my friend into being lazy and staying in with me. The following conversation took place shortly after my suggestion to have a Saturday night in:

Friend: Did you hear those fireworks?
Me: Ha, yea, they all sound like "fireworks" to me
Friend: No, seriously..that's a lot of "fireworks" and they sound really close
Me: Lets be really dumb Americans and go see where the gunshots are coming from

**(note: yes, I did actually utter those words out loud, and at this point we've stopped endearingly referring to them as fireworks, which we often do when we hear gunshots and/or actual fireworks, which are also rather common, surprisingly)**

At this point, I open the gate to peer down the street in the direction of Prazeres, the favela closest to us. I can't see the entrance from where we live, but I do see a police car racing down the street, and the gunshots sound ominously close.

Friend: Don't stand out there, it could be dangerous!
Me: What are the chances of a bullet traveling that far and ricocheting off that wall to hit me?
Friend: I dun...
Me: Oh shit, get inside...that bullet just flew above my head

Needless to say, I have renewed faith in the danger of stray bullets after watching that orange-hot piece of steel fly past me.

It is not my intention to make light of this situation, it is obviously a very serious topic, but I do feel that it is important to express that at no point did I feel like I was in danger. The reason I mention it at all is to address the more important subject that I often find myself thinking about; the ongoing war in this city between the police, the drug dealers and everyone who stands in their way, both figuratively and physically.

The streets were closed off by the police and we found out from the neighbors and inhabitants of Prazeres who were not allowed to pass through, that a robbery had taken place in the favela. The man who was robbed called the police, which I learned tonight is a huge mistake. The rule of the favela is, if something happens in the favela, it is dealt with by the people in the favela. You do NOT call the police. If the police show up, shoot outs will ensue.

The police shoot first, answer questions later, while the men and boys in charge of guarding the entrances during these situations shoot at the police. Both sides fire indiscriminately.

Living in Brazil, but more specifically, Rio has blurred the lines of good and bad for me. The police in Brazil are not good, but neither are the people peddling drugs. Both sides are constantly at war and the people living in the middle are ultimately the casualties of this ongoing battle.

We are taught as children that the witch is evil, the wolf will blow your house down and the dragon will engulf you with flames, but what if the prince that is sent to save you turns around and plunges the sword into your chest after slaying the dragon. What happens to a culture's morale when you can't depend on the people entrusted with your safety?

In the United States there are crooked cops and of course there are plenty of documented, and many more undocumented cases of severe abuses of power, but as whole the system put in place, does more often than not, attempt to help. As an outsider, coming from a country where the Justice system does in fact work, I am constantly baffled by how a country that is as developed as Brazil, can function while such a major part of the infrastructure is corrupt and undependable.

The men and women of this country have very little faith in the people meant to protect them, so is it any wonder that the rules and laws are broken? If the police are being paid off by drug dealers and the politicians are unconcerned with their citizens, why try to do the "right thing"? Food for thought...

So ends my "uneventful" evening..I didn't get to watch that movie after all...but real life here is so much more interesting!

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My Oasis

I have officially moved into my new home in Santa Teresa. I have now lived in 3 different neighborhoods since moving to Rio, all very different, but none have fit quite like this one. As soon as I arrived, a flood of tranquility burst through my anxious body. I left my apartment in Flamengo on bad terms with my landlord, with me arguing, in broken Portuguese, and feeling utterly frustrated with the situation. As soon as I stepped out of the cab, with all my belongings in tow, I knew that this was home. My mind, body and spirit sighed, finally a chance to do what I came here to do; relax. The view from the top is spectacular, as you can see above. But there's more, the air up here breads creativity and allows your mind to wander and be still all at the same time. This somewhat hidden gem, known to many as a dangerous place, has made me feel more safe and relaxed than any other place in Rio de Janeiro thus far. I am convinced that the people of Santa Teresa have spread this rumor, a ruse to keep the influx of people to a minimum. It suits me well, and I hope that the "Chique Elite" stay down the hill, because I love my new neighborhood, exactly the way it is-pure, innocent and quaint.

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Where oh where has the time gone?

My intention was to blog regularly to keep track of the events that transpire over the course of my travels. That being said, it is hard to capture these moments, many happen so quickly, that my brain cannot hold onto them long enough to outlive the next equally important event. Many of my favorites will be lost in the shuffle, but their effect will remain imprinted on me.

The last month has proved to be stimulating, emotional, exciting and most of all unexpected. My plan when coming here was to live with out a plan. Within hours of arriving, I had a new job, and now 1 month later, I am living in a completely different apartment, by myself, doing a job I thoroughly enjoy and surrounded by people and places that although completely foreign to me, now provide a sense of comfort.

I am once again considering moving to a new place. This time, it would be to a B&B that is located on top of a very large hill, in a place called Santa Teresa. I have the opportunity to work for my accommodations at a very beautiful guest house in an antiquated neighborhood, atop a massive hill, with stunning views of the city.

The project at CALLE is now starting to require more effort and time. We are short on volunteers and it requires, myself and the others to take on more classes than we had intended. I am still enjoying the project, but would like to find a way to contribute something more unique than my knowledge of the English language and my unwavering patience. I am still contemplating what my contribution should be, I will update when I have figured that out.

I am in a better place than I was 5 weeks ago when I arrived, and I expect to grow leaps and bounds in the next 5 months. I will do my best to document that more frequently and more effectively. Until next time...beijos! (kisses)

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Eu gostaria de te apresentar a Rio de Janeiro....

I have had a serious case of writer's block for the last few weeks, hence the lack of updates. This entry is my attempt at working through it-hope it works!

My plan was to leave for Rio on May 4th. That did not happen. At the time I chalked it up to bad planning on my part, but in hindsight, it was a perfectly engineered mishap. I wound up finding an apartment with cool people, spending extra time with loved ones and working out a few kinks in the process.

My life has a way of working itself out according to a plan that has nothing to do with my agenda. In fact, as soon as I adjust my views and expectations, it changes again, but more often than not, the results far exceed the model.

So here I am, my first day in Rio coming to an end in my newly acquired twin sized bed, windows open to the loud sounds of the city, which any good New Yorker will tell you, are more soothing than any sleep sound machine you will find at your local Brookstone, and I couldn't be more grateful to be living in the moment, right here, right now.

I arrive at 9 AM on an overnight flight from Atlanta (9+ hr flight) with 2 suitcases, a lonely planet Brazilian Portuguese phrasebook and an address. As I exit the plane, standing before me are 10 men dressed in red tshirts, cargo pants, military boots and giant back packs fastened to their bodies, equipped with white cotton surgical masks covering the lower half of their faces, shoving little pieces of paper at us. Great way to wake a girl up or just get her to sweat profusely at the idea that while in the air, the world has gone completely INSANE.

I agree (or so I believe, because it was obviously in Portuguese, and I barely have a grasp on English on one hour's sleep and no coffee) that I have not been sick for the last 10 days with anything resembling influenza or anything else contagious. Welcome to a world united by a fear of Swine Flu! I'd almost forgotten everyone, including Brazil is worried about letting that pesky virus in.

I then attempt to pass for a non-ignorant American when asked by an airport worker "tudo bem?" "bem" I say, thinking this should suffice. The next 2 minutes were excruciating. Apparently, I'm supposed to reply "tudo bem" and so we go back and forth, with him attempting to force those 2 little words out of my mouth, which of course, baffles me because why would I answer a question with a question? Sure I've studied spanish, but at that moment, my mind and mouth fought the obvious answer which I have now saved in my file cabinet marked under "TUDO BEM!"

I find my way safely to a taxi, but the ride itself was anything but. I have learned to accept Manhattan traffic and have a little experience with Atlanta's congestion problem, note to New York City and Atlanta: Rio's rush hour morning commute has you beat. We were cut off by 2 buses, one of which came within inches of taking off our front bumper in the process, and bikers practically rode on our hood in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Meanwhile, an ambulance got through with only God as it's director and a lone-cow with nowhere to go grazed on a patch of highway grass. All this occurred with out so much as a sigh from my taxi driver's mouth. He seemed unfazed and lost in thought, but didn't skip a beat when we were almost trampled by a Mercedes Benz 'omnibus'. Kudos to him for keeping me alive my first day here!

I'm feeling my eyes closing...To Be Continued

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The Best Is Yet To Come

I've been told that I should write a blog about the journey I am preparing to embark on, through the transitions of highs and lows of traveling and exploring a new culture, and perhaps a "New Me." I liked the idea of chronicling this journey, but was unsure when the journaling, so to speak, should begin.

Maybe my first entry should have been the day I was laid off from a job I wasn't particularly happy with. Maybe my first entry should have been "Thank God, they let me go". Or maybe my first entry should have been the day I left behind my dog, my apartment, my friends and the city I have been in love with since I can't remember when and said good-bye to a life I settled into, in search of a life I love.

It's been almost 2 months since this whole roller coaster began and only 3 weeks until the "real journey" begins but I thought today would be a good day to start writing, because everyone continues to ask how I am feeling and what is happening.

Today for the first time I can actually begin to answer that question. I am going to see what my life would have been like, had I not followed the rules, with out the obstacles and if I had just said yes to my gut.

I'm going to focus on becoming the best version of me, and enjoy every minute of it. On a more concrete level, I am going to lay around in the sun, volunteer in the favelas, learn Portuguese to the best of my ability and hopefully meet some awesome people and make some memories.

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