Yesterday, I was walking back from the grocery store when the porteiro called me over — a package had arrived. When I walked into his office to sign for it, there was another woman there, chit-chatting and watching the world go by. He mentioned to her that I wasn’t from Rio which, of course, led into a short conversation about where I was from and, the question I hate most, “Está gostando do Brasil?” Continue reading Flipping Over the Stone
The past two weeks have gone by so quickly. The holidays are approaching, or looming, whichever you prefer. Continue reading Sabbatical #4 & #5: Ilha Grande
There are a few places that I’ve traveled to where I felt an immediate bond. The first time I went to Paris as a teenager, I remember standing on the Seine, in a very romantic and cliché manner, thinking, “I’ll be back.” And each time I’ve left Italy, I’ve kicked and whined all the way to the airport saying that I belonged there, I liked life better there, I wanted to stay. I almost did, after all. Continue reading Coming to Paz
Petrópolis, also known as the Imperial City, is about an hour and a half bus ride from Rio de Janeiro and is not to be confused with propolis, the throat spray, as I have a tendency to do. I also have a tendency to overreact to the prospect of sitting on a bus for over an hour, but in spite of the steady drive into the mountains, it wasn’t nearly as terrible as I expected. Continue reading A Weekend in Petrópolis
I spent about two weeks in Rio de Janeiro before heading to Maceió for Carnival, which is ironic, because as an American in Rio during Carnival, the expectation is certainly not for me to leave right when the festivities start. I feel like I got fast-tracked to being jaded about all the crowds, which is about right since most crowds give me panic attacks that lead to me randomly pushing people and then feeling like a monster afterwards. Continue reading Maceió Pt.1: The departure
It’s no secret that I love Rio. A lot. Probably more than what would be considered normal for someone who’s only been twice. I mean, it was the only place that could contend with Italy when I was planning to move overseas last year. And while Italy immediately felt like home from the first time I visited, my infatuation with Brazil likewise began on my first trip a year and a half ago.
Maybe the words to describe a visit to Brazil exist only in Portuguese because I have yet to find them. Continue reading 365 Photos – Brazil Style (35/52)