Solo, soggy, and sappy

Since I haven't blogged in over a year, I started perusing some of my previous posts. I reached the first few posts from 2012 that went into some detail about my heartbreak healing process. I recalled that following that break up my world shrunk immensely for that time when all my goals and future plans that were sooooo BIG and WORLDLY dissolved in an instant. I recall planning to move back to Edmonton after spending three months at my parents acreage in Northern Alberta healing and the tinge of anxiety I felt. I recall being saddened by this because it was the first time in my life I felt scared to step out into the world. After a year in Edmonton, my world broadened a tiny bit more as I made the move to Vancouver to start my PhD and again anxiety reared it's head. After another year, I had the privilege of receiving a four year research award which brought with it the dream of relocating to Hungary in the fall of 2016 where I'd learn the language, reconnect with some of my patrilineal roots, and live where it is half the cost of living of Vancouver.... oh yes and write my dissertation, A couple weeks ago I finally made all those travel plans for Hungary and my world will be broadened again..and as I made those plans there was anxiety again! It came in the form of a paralysed left clicking finger as I went to book the one way flight and accommodations...and that is okay!! I have taken a slow pace and been gentle with myself as I've rebuilt my BIG and WORLDLY dreams on my own. After Budapest...who knows? Next stop: ENDOR!

Enough about me and my dreams... 

Day 2 of touristing in Rio was more rainy and a wee bit more discouraging than day 1. It began VERY early at about two in the morning, with a weird breakfast I cooked for myself with leftover fridge-food. For some reason I woke up at this ungodly hour starving because apparently one 7 oz steak- snack at cocktail hour, a bunch of cheese and sausage for a dinner appetizer coupled with an entree of fish stew was not enough to fill the caloric void for 8 hours of sleeping that is created by touristing.

Then I ate a second breakfast before ditching the work I had planned on doing and headed out on the bus to Centro, the downtown core of Rio to hit up the Museu Historico Nacional. I slathered on my DEET-laced moisturizer, packed my maps, and walked to the bus stop. I caught the  bus and, for awhile, kept track of where we were going and knew where we were based on my extensive studying of Rio maps. The bus I was on was like an express luxury cruiser that whisks you from one end of town to the other. On these particular buses there is no way to get the bus driver to stop unless you go up to the driver and yell at him across the turnstile, over the sound of traffic, to "STOP". This was problematic because I actually haven't yet learned to say "next stop please" let alone "next" or "stop" in Portuguese... and although you think everyone in the world would understand "STOP"...they do not. Having these basic words under your belt is imperative. Me and the driver got there eventually, though.

I wandered around for a while looking like I totally knew were I was going...

Random square

Random chruch

Random famous inclining driveway beside a random church (according to the interpretive plaque)

Random finds while wandering and pretending like I know where I'm going (in Centro, Rio)...this building might be the Justice Museum.

The thing that is nice about Rio is that it is like Vancouver in the sense that it is surrounded by oceans to the east and "mountains" to the west so you kind of always have a sense of direction...although in recent weeks I have some friends who have been pondering over the potential relativity of North, South, East and West (c'mon ladies, it WORKS!). I had studied the location of the Mueseu Historico Nacional on my little map and knew the general direction from the bus stop I got off at that me and the driver worked out. And in fact, I actually stumbled upon it relatively quickly and said out loud quietly to myself "you're the boss, Adrienne". Also, my confidence blossomed today because I finally learned how to pronounce my address properly so I felt certain if I wanted to, at any time, I could just hop in a cab and go home. This is basically the same way I feel about wandering through life, really. At any moment I can just move back in with my life-secure parents which provides me a lot of buffer space to wander further and further away from my known world. It's like if I were a really good amateur trapeze artist, like really good, and I try extra risky tricks and (usually always 98% of the time) confidently nail them but the confidence is only there cause I know the net is there for when the trapeze kicks the shit out of me.

When finished at the museum, I was feeling kind of in awe of the relatively non-offensive, yet extremely white-washed portion of the exhibit that documented the indigenous history here in Brazil. While the museum presented interesting artifacts and narratives describing the culture of some indigenous groups, there was only one mention of present-day poverty and inequity and NO presentation of the interactions between the indigenous peoples and the first pompous, arrogant, douche-baggy "Euro-backpackers" like this guy....

Some kind of statue glorifying some kind of coloniser

...which I assume were COMPLETELY different from the interactions of early North American colonisers and the indigenous peoples...NOT.

For lunch, I again wandered in some general direction of a bistro I read about in Frommer's and once again stumbled upon it very quickly much to my pleasant surprise.

Bistro do Paco, Centro, Rio de Janeiro

I couldn't read the menu and food-words have yet to be learned. After making animal sounds with the waiter to discern what meat was what on the menu,eventually the waiter and I got to the peixe de dia...so I ordered it. I asked for beer and a agua com gas...only got the agua. I then asked for a cappuccino following the meal and got something like a hot chocolate....but the waiter and I basically did the funky frango (now I know this means chicken) trying to take my order which might have been worth the kind of disappointing lunch I ended up with.

Peixe de dia @ Paco's (Centro, Rio)

Then the real "fun" began. I had decided to take a taxi to a neighbourhood called Santa Teresa and do this little self-guided walking tour I found in one of my travel books. It's a really old neighbourhood with cobblestone streets and old churches...apparently. Sooooo, yeah, that actually didn't happen. The taxi from Centro got me KIND OF close to the neighbourhood and then I started walking... and I began to see Rio's roughness. My airbnb is in a highly touristy area and therefore, well, you know what that means in these kinds of cities. I had yet to see the more real Rio. I found myself almost getting close to where I maybe wanted to start my walking tour but not really sure of where I was going. At the same time feeling the pressure to not pull out my map to get my bearings to avoid garnering any attention. So instead of using a map, I just walked up and down the same streets at least three times over the course of about an hour and a half trying to follow the tourist street signs, past the same people, which of course doesn't look touristy at all.

Rua da Lapa...I got to know this street well (Lapa, Rio)

And all the while it was pouring rain. And my bladder was going to explode. At some point I found myself wandering through streets alone with the voices in my head going "oh yeah, this is where and how gun-point robberies happen in broad daylight". I eventually gave up  and found a nice cafe and had a beer:

I-give-up beer.

I finally caught a taxi home with my new found useful skill of pronouncing my address and felt comfortable enough to almost fall asleep in the back seat. 

All I can say is that I didn't regret choosing to wear my mom-shoes for my day-2 trippin'.

Mom-shoes!