Coming to Paz

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”

A Weekend in Petrópolis

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”

Maceió Pt.1: The departure

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”