The first day

I'm tired. It's almost nine p.m. and dark outside. The air in Rio is heavy with moisture and mosquitos are attacking my legs. Maybe they can sense my newness to their country.

Today started off inauspiciously. At the Rio airport, I waited in the passport visa line for an hour and then could not find my bag at the baggage claim area. The America Airlines representatives were helpful though and told me that I would get my bag later that afternoon. I exited the baggage claim area, looking for Daniel, the local brasiliero that was supposed to pick me up at the airport. After getting harassed by a several taxi drivers who saw in my foriegn face opportunity for a decent fare to the city, a guy appeared before me and asked, "Mike?" Almost twenty-four hours after leaving my house in Norman, I had found my Brazilian host.

I did not feel a big rush of energy when I landed in Rio as I have on some of my other trips. Instead, the experience of landing in Brasil offered a kind of muted excitement, a high that occasionally arose when something reminded me that I was indeed in a foreign land, such as the hearing the exuberant sounds of portuguese being spoken or catching glimpses of the tropical terrain around Rio. But otherwise, the disorientation of the flight and the relative ease of the whole process, really made it hard to fully appreciate where I was.

The rest of the day, I'll recap more quickly. I had a homestyle lunch with Daniel, his sister, Isabella, who was wearing a Norman High Prom shirt from 2004 (my high school). Then after a short nap, Daniel and I went to a shopping mall with two of his friends, Phillipe and Chiagu. The three of them went on an absolute shopping rampage preparing for the upcoming new years. They bought speedo-like contraptions, which they called "large swimsuits," though they were only minimally longer than the standard speedo. I had to resist their suggestions that I try on a pair, resistance that they ignored at first but seemed to accept after Chiagu looked me up and down and said, "white legs." They also purchased white pants for the upcoming new year's celebration during which it is customary to wear all-white, and shoes and shirts. My shopping successes included a pair of green flip flops and a brasilian fruit called acai, which tasted like, well, nothing i've ever had before.

Five hours later, I returned home and now I'm blogging for the second day in a row, a new record for me. Tomorrow, I head off to Buzios, a resort town three miles up the coast from Rio, which was evidently made famous in the sixties by Bridget Bardot and her lover. The lonely planet guide called it the St. Tropez of Brasil. We're staying there for the week, including new years. As nice as it sounds, I am a little disappointed that I won't be in Rio for the new years to experience the epic craziness. But I'm following the "when in doubt, trust the local" rule.

The day before take off

Hey friends.
I'm here in Oklahoma trying to pack and prepare for my trip. It has been about three months since I initially attempted to get down to Rio. But after many delays, and plenty of agonizing over graduate school essays, I am finally departing. I have to say, as excited as I will probably be when I land in Rio, to beaches and sunny weather, I also feel some nervousness. Or maybe it's more the uncertainty of not knowing what the next two months will bring or what inspirations will be guiding me and giving shape to my time there. Three months ago, I knew why I wanted to spend extended time there. but five business school applications later, the notions are foggier. Well, I'll stick with the dreams for now, of the beaches, the music, the people, and the culture. The reality of my trip can wait a day or two.