Booking tickets soon.

The question remains to be answered:

Will I be in Rio for a hectic and marvelous two and a half weeks of International Conference, intellectual thought, world changing [or disheartening regress, but I like to think positive], and, debauchery…

Or in Brazil

for a glorious three months of all the above,

and then some + internship?

Better figure that out.

Because two and a half weeks in an official UN setting won’t allow for sufficient debauchery.

For, you know, a more complete education.

Saudade II

Just like I knew I would. 

Images surge into my mind all the time. And I can’t concentrate.

Seas of mist in between mountains, and hummingbirds that fly up to my face, making me think for a supremely panicked moment that I’m being attacked by a giant buzzing bird-like bug.

Hours lost being almost-lost in a rainforest. But not the amazon. This one was much more beautiful. 

Evenings curled up, surrounded by color, dream catchers, rich, musty, herbal smells of comfort, and everyone else, as always, always there, pretending to study.

The hills. Always the hills. In between beds and breakfast, hostels and school, beds and work, beds and lounge, the beach and the shower.

Long beaches of almost no one, tracing spirals in the sand.

Fruit at breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. On pizzas. (?)

Long hours in hotel rooms, just chillin’.

Dali Landscapes, with armadillos and killer ants

Hot. Sticky. Exhausting. Worth it.

Clubs.

Men.

Up and down and up and down and up and down hills in immense green monsters of forests, sweat and heat and ants and spines and measurements and that cold beer at the end. (Amazon)

Hammocks.

Mosquito nets.

Torrential downpours and rivers of roads.

Vast, plain, dry wetlands, with animals everywhere.

Capybara in droves. Could be scary, but so harmless.

Caiman in droves. Still harmless.

Birds.

Long walks.

I’m not even going to get into the internship. 

I was so eager to be back. I didn’t know how uncomfortable it would be. My hopes- getting it all out somewhere will let me concentrate on the now. Everything I’m doing now is so that I can go back in 5 months. 

Only Travel.

There is a cure for this.

Unfortunately, travel is expensive.

And I have classes to take.

So for now, I’ll suffer through these debilitating and irrational waves of dislike for:

Being home

Having a large closet filled with a varied assortment of clothing

Seeing old friends

Having a routine

Being in my home country.

…

Well, at least I have a washer and dryer machine. 

Culture Shock

It comes in waves. When I first came home, I was confused, jet-lagged, and couldn’t understand what it was about the Sacramento, CA restaurant that made it so utterly foreign to me. Why was it so obviously different from Brazil? I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something in the people, the conversations swirling around me, the food, the servers, the booths, tables, walls…It was subtle. Something in my mind changed after three months in Brazil. 

I adjust.

To the sudden change from mid-summer to mid-winter. To the driving. To the sun that faded at 4pm, when my internal clock was still six hours ahead, telling me it was actually 10pm. To having to answer to friends, family, society. 

And now, suddenly, two weeks after I come home,

I find myself confused again. Uncomfortable. Longing to be gone again.