Unexpected Day 7: Making the Best of It

During the two-hour delay on the Tarmac, I watched out my window as maintenance workers brought over crates of landing gear brake drums, remove the tires, and hoist the drums onto a lift and attempt to install the new brakes. That was two hours and one brake. They hadn't gotten to the other side yet. The airline handed out granola bars and water and started a movie, but by seeing a small army of people and crew on the Tarmac, I saw a bus show up just as it was announced that the flight was cancelled until the next afternoon. Anyone who had a place to stay in Rio should do so, and the rest of the nearly 300 passengers would be transported by bus to a hotel and given dinner and breakfast.

American handed us these transit ticket cards that will help us through re-booking and passport control, and we took a bus to a gorgeous hotel west of Ipanema in the Barra de Tejuca district (I may have spelled this incorrectly). It was a long half hour drive but it had the space for everyone. The dining room was open when we arrived at 2:30am and we had a hot buffet meal. AA was quick and efficient in getting us situated and also kind. Luckily as I mentioned earlier I had checked no luggage, so all my clothes were with me, including plenty of clean stuff (one time I'm glad I over-packed, even with just a carry-on). It was also my first time in a hotel in a week. Now I love a nice hotel, but not for $450 a night with my own cash which is one of the reasons I opted for the B&B, as well as the personal service. But I did appreciated a hotel. Huge shower, no mosquitoes, CNN, air conditioning, and fluffy towels. I took a marvelous long hot shower before bed and felt like a new person.

A wake-up call came at 8:20am that check out was at 9 and the bus to the airport would arrive at 10. I got a head start, packed and checked out, and went for breakfast. I sat in the lobby afterward when the first bus arrived at 9:35 and I caught that one. It was nice to be first, seeing as last night I got the very last hotel and meal voucher. The ride back to the airport was through suburbs, favelas, car dealerships, high-rises, and mostly residential neighborhoods. There was an amusement park, carnival, new gondolas that transport people up into the favelas quickly (a new project Rio is working on), and low clouds clinging to green mountains.

Standing in line to check in at the airport again I was talking to an older male couple from Provincetown who built a summer home in northern Brazil. I let them use my phone to contact relatives that were supposed to pick them up in Boston. Two men in business class behind us were bitching about the entire process and how slow it was. Dudes, it could be worse. Sorry you weren't accommodated within 10 minutes and you had to stand in line with the rif-raf. I will miss my connection to Chicago tonight, but will spend the night in New York with dad and Mary, so this all works out well. I could be much worse, at least I have all my things, transportation, and a home to sleep in tonight. When I get into New York I will then make my onward arrangements for Chicago. They already have me on one flight but I want to try to improve the situation a bit better to build in some breathing room in case of further issues.

It will be nice to be state-side again. And to do laundry. I miss my electric toothbrush.

However, I do have an addendum to my report about Rio's airport. The airline had also given is a lunch voucher valid at one of the vendors. Once I ventured down a couple levels of the airport, I found a more extensive food court and one more less-crowded souvenir shop. This was outside of security, so be sure to leave plenty of time to dine first and then get through the lines. And if you need a charging station in the international boarding area, there is one immediately behind passport control. You could completely miss it if you head straight to your gate without looking behind he pillars. I was the only person using an 8-port station. Gate 38 also has an outlet near the ground facing the windows, with seating nearby. The little power outlets in that airport are devils to find since a lot of them have been removed for some odd reason. But bring an European adapter, since some ports are 220v round. And I write all this assuming someone will read the blog that is looking for Rio travel advice. I know this blog sees visitors from around the world, so welcome!

Upon arrival in New York, when we stepped off the plane, American had an envelope for each passenger lined up on a windowsill. I found mine, and inside was my new boarding pass for my connection tomorrow, a hotel voucher, and breakfast voucher. Wow! I thought I was going to have to wait in line for 45 minutes to rebook, and they already had it done before I landed! I cleared customs and passport control in minutes, where were all fully-staffed and ready for us. I was off the plane and at passenger pickup within 20 minutes. My biggest props to AA for the way they handled this entire situation. Too often we hear of nightmare airline stories, and this one was a gem. I'll write them when I get home, and I took some time to thank the crew tonight, as well. They really did a stellar job.

Dad and Mary were at dinner with friends, so dad left to pick me up and we returned to the restaurant to have a nightcap together. One drink turned into two, and we were having so much fun socializing, and me relaxing, that I stepped outside the bar to call the airline. They let me change my flight from 7:45 the next morning to 1pm instead. Thank god. It's now 3am and instead of going to bed in yet another hotel, I'm in my day's house in a familiar and cozy place. I'll sleep in a little then we'll have bagels for breakfast, and off I go to Chicago. It was nice to make a stop here instead of routing through Miami or DFW. It was like having my own welcoming committee, and so nice to come home stateside to family and friends to talk to. I love going home, but there's no one to greet me at the airport or at home. There won't be in Chicago tomorrow, but at least my welcome home was a day early in New York. My first and second home.

Day 6: Boa Viagem... and the Plane Breaks Down

Last day in Rio. Or so I believe. I am on the plane right now sitting on the Tarmac for an hour because there's an issue with the brakes. No idea when it will be fixed. Will we lift off tonight? Will we spend the night here? I care not to think about it. So in the meantime I queued up Les Mis on my iPad for the 5th and final time. Yeah, it took me five times to get through it. I still don't get it. I can't get past Russell Crowe singing. It's distracting and he's not very good. I can't handle all the singing. It bores me stiff, and watching it is like walking knee-high through mud. Why all the British accents? It's a movie about France. I saw the play once, I forgot what it was about. Some people love the movie. If you're one of those people, please help me understand why. I mean no offense, it's just not for me. I have Argo and Zero Dark Thirty left on the iPad to watch. That's more my speed.

So this morning after breakfast I finished packing up and left my bags in the foyer for the day. I didn't have to be at the airport until 7. This time I headed the other direction on the metro, north, into Centro which is the downtown business district. There is a collection of colonial-era buildings so some photography and exploration was in order. I was warned that Centro has some rough spots and not to sport my camera, so I scaled back my adventure just a bit.

After a tasty lunch of yakisoba at a sidewalk cafe (I believe the first one I stopped at for kibe on my first day) I went first to the Teatro Municipal which I discovered had a guided tour starting in less than a half hour. I inquired about a tour in English, but the ticket agent didn't speak English and pointed something about "one". One what? At one o'clock? Today? Or yesterday? Or only one guide? Whatever, I figured I'd wing it and follow everyone else at for the 2pm tour even if it was in Portuguese. I can still catch a few words and I just wanted to get inside for pictures. But the guide asked if anyone spoke English, a few of us raised our hands, and the separated us and gave us an English-speaking guide. Nice.

It was a beautiful building, modeled after the Paris Opera House. It recently underwent a renovation and it glistens in gold and red in the interior, with marvelous stained-glass windows representing the Muses of music, poetry, and dance. The lower level is based on Persian design, to my surprise, as I haven't seen this motif in many western buildings. For only $5 it was a good way to spend an hour on a rainy day. Afterward I walked across to the National Library that had a stunning multi-level interior, but my motivation for more exploration was starting to wane. I walked around downtown a bit more, stumbled upon the US consulate, but as the rain came down harder, it was time to head back to the B&B.

My driver was waiting for me when I returned. I learned a few days ago that his motto is that if he's not early, then he is late. So he is always early. By at least and hour this time! Washing my face and hands was a priority, then changing clothes for the plane, packing away my day bag, some re-arranging, then we were on our way to the airport 20 minutes ahead of schedule. We passed the Sambadromo again and I managed a couple pictures through the rain-dotted car window. Then past the national soccer stadium amidst some rather congested traffic. It took us nearly 80 minutes to go a few miles so I'm very glad we were both early so I could arrive at the airport on time. Through a spattering of Portuguese and Spanish, my driver Hector and I exchanged names, talked about our jobs, some of the neighborhoods we passed through, and other chit-chat.

Rico's international airport terminal is by no means my favorite in the world. For its sake I really hope it's under construction, as there were only 2 very slow snack bar with not enough tables, one souvenir shop, one duty free shop, one restroom (no kidding, and my bags didn't fit in the stall with me so I had to pick and end stall and leave them outside my door, gah!), not enough seating for everyone, no official airline desks, not staffed, and not enough trash bins, so trays from the snack bar were everywhere. They removed most of the wall outlets so there was only one charging station that was kept busy as we piled on top of each other. One dude with a southern accent plugged in his iPhone then walked away to the snack bar. Someone should teach him a lesson and moved it. He also assumed everyone spoke English. We then boarded a bus which took us to our plane (typical for international airports), but it was raining and we had to climb wet shaky steps with our bags. I felt badly for the elderly passengers that didn't have a ramp or other means to get onto the plane.

And that brings us to now, 2 hours sitting on the Tarmac while I see one of our landing gear tires on the ground. The new brakes have arrived in wooden crates, so now I know what airplane brakes look like. Lots of staff and technicians I spy out my window. It's going to be a least another hour delay, and we'll get into New York by 10am if we're lucky. At least dad doesn't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to pick me up. Bright sides: I have enough Xanax to put me out so I'll have no idea how much time passes; I didn't check luggage if we get moved around; I have an 11 hour (now 8 hour) layover in New York until my Chicago flight, so plenty of time; and if I miss that, flights between Chicago and New York are every hour on the hour, if not from JFK, then from LGA, which dad can drive me to. And I still have Sunday to get home if I get stranded here or in New York. Allison had keys to my place so she or Dennis can check on Jude, or the pet sitter. An my visa is multi-entry for 10 years so if I'm here another night, perhaps passport control won't be a big deal. I've slept in plenty of airports and I have a pillow, and plenty of clean knickers. So it could be worse. I tend to pack for the worst-case scenario.

Update: Can't fix plane tonight. Sent us to gorgeous hotel on the beach. Hot shower, no mosquitoes, buffet dinner at 2:30am, great staff, and all the bonuses I mentioned above turns out I actually need. Flight scheduled for 1pm, in JFK at 9pm. Will miss 5pm flight to Chicago so I don't yet know how or when I'll get home, or how frequent Internet access will be. Texting is expensive. My sister can post my updates or FB IM her for details. Got a hold of pet sitter and she's checking on Jude another day. At least I have another day to work with! Now can squeeze in an hour at the beach before the bus comes to bring us back to the airport? More details to come, but AA has been efficient and fantastic.

Day 7 post to come... Stay tuned.

Day 5: The Girl from Ipanema

The title writes itself. It was an overcast day but I'll be damned if I wasn't going to fit in one more day at the beach before I left, and clouds weren't going to stop me. Turns out, when you're this close to the equator, clouds are insignificant. My sunburn is lovely but will turn a lovely toasty color in a few hours. I had to visit Rio's two famous beaches, and Ipanema was next on the list.

The waves were epic. We could stand at the waterfront, but any further beyond our waist and the lifeguards would signal people to get back. Definitely too dangerous to swim. Since part of the subway line to Ipanema is closed for construction, there was a subway-to-bus transfer, so I checked first to figure out how to ask for a dual ticket. I noticed that each beach has its own tiled pattern walkway: Copacabana looks like waves, and Ipanema looks Iike bubbles. I camped out between posts 8 and 9, near a less-crowded section of beach near a Rastafarian kiosk. I waved off the vendor that asked if I wanted a chair or umbrella, since I just wanted to spread out my sarong a lay on the ground. I bought a coke and a kibe from a few vendors and passed a couple hours watching the waves,

I really had no more plans for the day, so I picked up to wander the shopping district in Ipanema, full of some great little stores and restaurants. I found Beach Sucos, which is a juice and lunch bar I had read about in The Frugal Traveler. This place had menus in English if requested, and I pointed out a grilled cheese and asked for guava juice, then had a seat at a sidewalk table and relaxed. Afterward I managed to find the express bus back to Copacabana and wandered around a bit longer in and out of some shops, finding a lovely cheap summer dress with a rainforest pattern. Upon returning to Botafogo, when I emerged at street level from the subway, I noticed more street vendors, namely one selling açai. I hadn't tried it yet and have heard so much about it. The B&B owners highly recommended it a few times, and told me about the different way it is served up. I figured this was my last chance to try it before leaving Brazil, so I ordered the smallest size. It's a dark purple-brown color with the consistency of a Frosty or a McDonald's shake that you eat with a spoon. Often it is served with granola on top, but I opted without. I was a cold delicious treat, and I wandered the streets toward home while licking my spoon.

I have less than 24 hours left in Rio. I have to be out of my room by noon, which isn't a problem. Will pack and leave my suitcase in the foyer, and perhaps wander down to Centro for some sightseeing and photography, and a long lunch. When I return by 6 I will just freshen up before my car comes. It's a late flight to New York, overnight, where hopefully they'll keep my itinerary as planned and I'll spend my layover in Saturday with Dad and Mary, to return to Chicago Saturday night. I've had a relaxing week, with some challenges (not too crazy), am proud of myself for accomplishing as much as I did (I was much lazier last time I traveled solo), but also missed a few things that I wanted to see. I wanted to take in some nightlife, late drinks at a boteca, and some samba, but I also didn't want to be out late alone. This was my only hindrance.

I definitely have grown older and wiser since the Dubai trip, by leaps and bounds. Compared to some friends, I'm still a novice traveler, but I believe I may have graduated through a few ranks. Fears have been faced this week, not without a little anxiety, but I've enjoyed the challenge of battling myself and finding out what I really am made of. It would have been nice to have a travel companion here (I get tired of thinking for myself and making decisions), someone to talk to and socialize with, to collaborate with and share the adventure and wonderment, but I also think I needed to do this alone, at least once every few years, to test the soul.

Day 4: Jardim Botanico and the Brazilian Life

I write this so late because Richard (one of the B&B owners) and I were sitting out by the pool talking about Rio culture, life, politics, crime, economy, language, and about some of the guests that have passed through these gates. For three hours we chatted as time flew by and we swapped stories.

Brazil is really coming into its own. One can clearly see around the city the improvements they are making to plan for the near- and long-term. The power had gone out for an hour this evening but it was still dusk so we had some light. I picked up some fruit for dinner and sat outside eating when Richard walked by to turn the lights back on after the power came back. He explained that the city is upgraded its electrical infrastructure ahead of all the major events it will be hosting in coming years. So every so often a neighborhood will go through a a blackout while the city is making repairs and upgrading. Growing pains. This is also why I travel with a flashlight. The newly-arrived Canadian bird-watching couple seemed perturbed and asked me what was going on. I said to give it time, as the lights also flickered off the other night, too. Richard said he could tell this couple might be a handful because they demanded to switch rooms to the only room that had a safe. This is their home, their housekeepers have all been here at least 10 years. If you can't trust one another, you shouldn't be staying at B&Bs. Richard went on to tell stories about other difficult guests. And how you can always spot an American tourist. And other helpful hints he's provided to other guests to keep them safe from harm or incident.

We also went on to talk about crime. Listen, if you can live smart in Chicago or New York, you have the street sense to visit here. I mean, extra street smarts. I know people back home who are very diligent and play safe in Chicago, and I know some people that aren't quite as aware of their surroundings, but have fared well. Blending in and making it difficult to be a target has kept me safe here. But really, it isn't any different than how I live in Chicago. This city is 4x bigger than Chicago, but operates by some of the same rules. Actually, maybe a bit friendlier.

I learned a few lessons this week and from our conversation. The Brazilian Way is to take along only what you need, and pick up the rest later. Pack lightly, if going on vacation or just to the beach. The world will provide.

I also learned about the far corners of this country and how diverse it is. As I sit in this city of 12 million people, I can hardly believe that elsewhere north of here, in the same country, are tribes that have never had contact with modern civilization. Brazil is striving to preserve that culture and respect the native way of life and their surroundings. From recycling, to conservation, to preserving and appreciating the most precious real estate in the world, the Amazon, this country has both surprised me and amazed me.

I visited the botanic gardens this morning. This is a fantastic climate for some amazing greenery to thrive, including a section devoted to preserving rare species of plants. There was giant bamboo, palm trees, lily ponds, Japanese gardens, tropical flowers, stunning Amazonian trees with rock-hard and smooth trunks, willows, vines, and a plethora of other greenery that I can't possibly remember. It was a gorgeous few hours in the quite tranquil of a park situated at the base of a mountain, in the only neighborhood that doesn't have a favela sneaking up the sides of the cliffs.

I took another bus there this morning, and I knew that somewhere at the end of the line was a connection to another bus that looped back through Ipanema. But since I wasn't familiar with the bus terminal and these buses didn't all announce their stops, I wasn't about to press my luck in an unfamiliar neighborhood. So I headed back to Botafogo and picked up a street snack. I didn't have much of an appetite and was exhausted from the day at the gardens, so later I stopped in a grocery story to pick up some mangos and grapefruit for dinner. Also at 1am last night my delicious fried dinner didn't agree with me and made an uncomfortable exit. I've been eating so much fruit and juice and healthy food for days that I think I shocked my g/i system. I also didn't feel like the hassle of a restaurant again, nor climbing those 174 steps... Twice. To waste a little time I stopped in a shopping mall that I heard had an 8th floor veranda with a great view of Praia Botafogo, and it didn't disappoint. On the way back down I spotted exercise equipment in a nearby park. I was color-coded according to age and ability. I saw some older people on some equipment doing some gentle exercise. I've seen this in quite a few places, gyms in parks and along the beaches. I asked Richard about this, and he said that yes, this is a health-conscious city, and the government helps promote it by making workout equipment available and free. Insert your own comparisons here with American culture. Would we work out more if we had chance encounters and opportunities to do so, for free?

What I do appreciate about the public transit system here is that it is also undergoing some renovations to improve it for the World Cup and the Olympics. Where there is construction and re-routing, transit employees with bright yellow shirts and with words "I can help" written on the front hand out flyers, give directions, and have megaphones telling people where to go. When the Blue Line shuts down in Chicago (it always seems to be the blue line) and there are shuttle buses instead, could you imagine the CTA doing this? Their employees hardly know their own names.

This city and economy is growing, and there's also a conscious social effort to make sure that everyone feels it. They don't want to leave the poor behind. They want to bring millions more out of poverty, and have successfully done so with 28 million in this country in the past 10 years. They want progress to happen together. You can also see this happening in the favelas as the cops take the neighborhoods back from the gang leaders.

This city certainly has its growing pains, but it's also thinking ahead. Mandarin may be the latest hot language to learn, but Portuguese may be next.

Day 3: Corcovado and Rio Cultural Thoughts

I knew this adventure could take up at least half my day, and with all the walking I've done, I wasn't about to crowd the day with more activities. Corcovado is the mountain on which the Cristo Redentor statue sits. A couple here at the B&B from England said they went yesterday and their guide had never seen it so crowded. I was the first one at breakfast promptly at 8 with plans to get up there early. When Rob (owner/guide) told me at 8:45 that I best get going to avoid the crowds, I hustled. Again I decided to walk since the B&B is situated near it, and was there in less than a half hour, wandering up and down hills, in and out of neighborhoods. I also discovered that Google Maps works even when I didn't have the cell, data, or wifi on.

When I arrived at the train station at the bottom of the mountain it was already swarming with tour groups and cruise passengers. I heard nightmares about arriving and the next available train being 4 hours later. When I bought my ticket was told the next available train was an hour away, I was delighted. An hour I can handle. So I sat in a park nearby on a swing set, when a kid of about 10 came over to talk to me. I pretended not to understand and told him I didn't speak Portuguese, but I could clearly understand that he was asking me for money to get up Corcovado.

This was also my first interaction with tourists since I arrived. Khakis, t-shirts, sneakers or socks with sandals, cameras around the neck, and fanny packs. English, American, German, you can spot them all. I also spied a fellow female solo traveler. I guess we're easy to spot, too, because most people travel in pairs. The train ride was uneventful, and about halfway up it stopped and a little samba band got on and performed. I recognized one of the songs. In another song, the locals on the train sang along. Although this was planned, I have noticed some spontaneous music breaking out around the city, and people are quick to participate.

At the top of the mountain, at the base of the statue, people were posing in the typical arms-out fashion, which also blocked the stairs to get from one viewing area to the next. My impatience broke out when I decided to ramble through people's photos. Okay, call it photo-bombing. The view from Corcovado was spectacular, and although slightly hazy, all points of Rio could be seen. For as high up as it was, it wasn't any cooler, maybe because it's closer to the sun?? I stayed maybe 20 minutes up there, then went down a level to grab a snack, Coke, and water for the walk back. I found a little cafe on a side street and popped in for a light lunch, then came back to the B&B to relax.

As I stepped inside, a brief rain fell. I've just sat here for the day in the hammock, exploring options for tomorrow, letting yesterday's sunburn fade, and think about dinner. It's overcast now and the temp is fantastic. Although after two days, I've learned my lesson and have to put on bug spray if I'm going to sit outside. If I could charge Mosquitos for what they're feasting on me, I could afford a return trip. Now I'm hearing thunder, so I'm considering heading down the hill for a comfortable dinner and a drink, and call it an early night. I'm not certain what tomorrow will bring. It's supposed to storm. Richard (other owner) suggested I explore Centro, which is the business and historic district. He gave me a map and marked off some interesting sights. I may also opt to visit the botanical garden where I hear there are toucans and parrots and sloths. And here comes the rain. Good thing I brought an umbrella if I venture out.

...

A few hours have passed, and now two storms. The first was epic. Wind, rain, amazing lightening. After a bit it passed and as soon as it trickled to a drizzle, I headed out for dinner. My biggest barrier here is language. I asked for a menu in English or Spanish, and they brought me an English one with no prices. After a cross-check, I ordered chicken, Cuban style. I figured hey, I like chicken, I like Cuban food. And a caipirinha. Oh, that was so good. So much lime, sugar, and alcohol goodness. The air was fresh from the rain, a cool breeze was blowing, and the drink was cold as I sat at the sidewalk table. When my dinner arrived, it was a chicken pounded flag like a cutlet, breaded, and fried. It was huge. A separate platter was heaped with peas, onion, shredded ham, crispy onion, a hard-boiled egg breaded and fried, a plantain breaded and fried (!), and a heart of palm... You guessed it... Breaded and fried. It was good. I may not have ordered it knowing it was all fried, but it wasn't heavy. And this was my first seated meal in days. I devoured it. Nearly to the end of my chicken, I discovered a round breaded and fried disc on the far end of the platter. I bit into it. Pineapple! This made my night. Chicken, ham, and pineapple. On any normal day, I hate pineapple. But stick it in salsa, or grill it, or in this case, fry it, and I love it. I just can't eat it raw.

Belly full and brain slightly buzzed from the caipirinha, I wanted a second one but didn't dare since I had to keep my wits about me to walk back up the hill. The night started to heat up again, but as I made it back home, the retired couple from England just returned with their guide from an excursion in the jungle. Later they'll fly to Iguaçu Falls, then into the Amazon for 2 weeks. Where do they get the means to do this?

Rio Observations

On the way down the hill, instead of taking the switchback road, there's a stairwell that cuts through the houses that cling to the hill. At the top of the stairs, across the street, is a wide patch of sidewalk with vegetation hanging over it. There are a few plastic chairs, a shelf hammered to the cement retaining wall, and a small tv on a crate. This is the neighborhood "living room." Many a time I've witnessed entire families out there, and women calling from their windows over to the men across the street on the sidewalk. They sit and watch soccer, smoke, and watch the goings-on in the hood. The stairwell winds like an outdoor hallway through the neighborhood. I walk past a door, and 2 feet inside is someone on a sofa watching TV, or cooking dinner, or hanging out. I literally feel like I'm walking through their home. Like walking through many homes. Stairs and halls intersect with other halls. This is also how the favelas are built, but these aren't quite as poor as the favelas. But some certainly do appear makeshift.

A very visible note about Brazilian life is the recycling effort. First I heard some statistic about Brazil being the #1 producer of ethanol and user of clean fuel. Next I watched the documentary Waste Land about a garbage dump on the outskirts of Rio, and how the people that scavenge it for recyclables keep tons of garbage out of the landfill every day. Without the garbage pickers, Rio would be overwhelmed. I highly recommend it. Anyway, there are notices about recycling everywhere. Separate bins for plastic, metal, paper, and regular trash. I feel nearly paranoid about throwing a can in the wrong bin. It feels like so much a part of the culture. Recycling? Clean fuel? Ethanol? Water conservation? Where the hell is the US in this system? Why isn't our culture more attuned to this? Why doesn't our public government push these efforts with PR? No wonder Brazil is one of the four big developing economies. They are clearly thinking way ahead of us for a sustainable and adaptable future.

I like Rio. It's hot. There's a beach. Could I live here? I don't know. I might have the largest bug zapper that would brighten the skyline. But it's a nice city. Old. Modern. Cosmopolitan. Fast. I like.

Day 2: Copacabana Beach and Sugarloaf

Also, thoughts on traveling alone, fruit juices, fresh markets, and the bus system.

I have been looking forward to taking this trip alone because I wanted to see what I was made of. How much have I grown since my last solo trip abroad 4 years ago? Am I older and wiser? Dubai was a cinch. I pretty much just laid around the pool with maybe two excursions by taxi, and mostly around English-speaking westerners. This time, Rio is a whole new ball game. And when I stopped to think about it, this is easy. There is no fear. A little hesitation, but I wait out any doubts by getting comfortable in my surroundings. So often to I do my own sightseeing and run errands alone in Chicago that in used to being alone navigating a city. This feels like much of the same. I've taken the subway, ordered food, finally took the bus (more on that later), held my own at the beach, gone shopping, and found my way back "home."

All the while speaking something that can only be called Enspanguese. My Spanish is definitely helping here, and I only know a few Portuguese words, but sometimes they come out with Spanish pronunciations. And when I'm stuck, I pepper a sentence with English. Maybe I can start my own commune down here and we can make it our official language. Half the time I just point and nod, and that seems to be working.

Over breakfast this morning I met another couple staying here who are also from Chicago. I swears we're all over the world! Always a Chicago connection somewhere. They have a couple more days here so maybe I will ask them to have a drink down the hill before they go. Afterward I headed out to Copacabana beach. Bathing suit on, cover-up, flip flops, and my small bag. On the way to the metro I passed a side street with a farmer's market selling everything from fruits and veggies to fresh meat and fish. Locals would bring their little carts down and do their entire day's shopping. I spotted some strawberries and bought them to bring to be beach. They were delicious! I couldn't tell you what half the other fruits were since many were Amazonian. Next I stopped at a newsstand and picked up 2 bottles of water and was on my way.

Rules of the beach: don't bring anything you don't NEED. I didn't need credit cards or all my cash. I didn't need my good camera, the point-and-shoot was just fine. Do NOT bring a beach towel. You will be marked as a tourist. Do not bring food; the beach provideth. Vendors walk the beach endlessly selling water, soda, caipirinhas, hot food (more kibbe!), sandwiches, bathing suits, sarongs (buy or bring a sarong and use it like a beach towel), sunscreen, hats, jewelry, and the list goes on. I walked up to a beach kiosk and they set up my chair and umbrella. The beach gopher boys will keep patrons in their area stocked with water, beer, and soda in coozies, then settle the tab at the end of the day. The beach is like a social club or a bar. Every few dozen feet are kiosks that monitor their little patch of sand. I spent a good three hours there doing nothing. Twice in the water, and the rest of the time just people-watching. When I got hungry, I flagged down what I successfully guessed to be a food vendor. Near the end of the day I haggled with a vendor for a sarong that looks like the Brazilian flag. After a decent layer of sunburn (not bad, I still used sunblock), I showered off the sand and headed out for some light shopping. Since I was sopping wet I just wrapped my sarong around me and floated in and out of stores.

This is a beach culture. Wearing half-dressed beachwear in public is no big deal. And I appreciate that body image is quite different here than in the US. People seem to embrace who they are and wear it just fine. I feel better here, whereas I'd be so self-conscious at home. This was also true in Peru, so I'm thinking its a South America thing. I found a bin full of bathing suits a some inexpensive clothing store and picked up an obligatory suit, probably only suitable for my pool and maybe the beach at my house if I'm brave. But I AM brave, dammit, I'll just pretend I'm in Rio instead of Chicago. America can take its body image issues and shove it.

Back at the B&B I rested a bit, then decided I should probably head to Sugarloaf if I were to catch it at sunset, which I heard was the best time. I'm not made of money, so I researched the bus system online, read my guidebook, and talked to Patty the house manager. When I was walking back from the beach I noticed a bus heading to Urca, and I knew that's where Sugarloaf was located. Okay, so maybe I can take the bus and save a few bucks. It adds up. First I made a pit stop at my bank (yay, a branch here!) and got a rock star exchange rate, so good, I'm stocked up for the week. I found a bus stop and stood there observing how people flagged down buses, what they did when they got on, how they paid, etc. When my 107 bus to Urca/Pão de Açucar showed up, someone flagged it, I followed him on, watched how people paid, and I did the same. There's a cashier that sits near the door, then you go through a narrow turnstile. I like. No freeloaders like in Chicago (there are also bus passes). I found a seat, then wondered how in the world to get OFF the bus and signal it to stop. There were no ropes to pull or buttons to press. At some point I noticed a lot of people get off at one stop. I stayed seated and pulled out my iPad and checked the map. I passed the stop by a block, so I stood up and went to the exit door. The bus stopped Let some guy off ahead of me and I followed. 1 block later I was at Sugarloaf. Okay, success. I'll worry about how to get home later.

I reached Sugarloaf after sunset, but there was still a hint of color in the sky. I managed a few great pictures from the peaks that I can't wait to post later. This wasn't an excursion I was planning on, but one of the owners said it was definitely worth it at dusk. It was really neat to see the city at night with Cristo Redentor lit up in white seemingly hovering over the city. Copacabana beach was awash in light. The moon was full and reflected off the ocean. The city lights glistened under the hot night air. Yes, beautiful. And I got to test the new camera at work at night and it seemed to perform like a dream in low light.

On the way back down the cable car I was contemplating taking a taxi. But that, plus the cost of dinner I wasn't prepared to cough up just yet. I had to be back by 10 when the B&B locks up and I didn't want to press my luck being out that late. I figured if the bus brought me here, it had to bring me back. I waited with some others at a bus stop and had a few coins ready. When the 107 showed up (buses operate so frequently!) I asked the driver "Ir Praia Botafogo?" Spanguese. Yes, he confirmed (because the bus sign only read Centro, which I knew was past my neighborhood). Okay, so now that is was on the bus, at night, how would I know exactly where to get off? And HOW to alert the driver to stop?? This sits where a few things came in handy: before ever leaving, I studied the maps of my neighborhood and the one I was visiting, and the route between. I kept my sense of direction, and noticed street signs as we passed. Yesterday and today I made note of landmarks and stores. So when the bus went up, around, down and did a loopy, I knew where I was. When I thought I was in the right place, I stood up and walked to the exit door and saw a button on a pole. I figured if it worked that by in Chicago, maybe it worked like that here. I pressed the button, saw a bus stop ahead, the drive slowed and pulled over, the light over the exit door went on and the doors opened! I jumped out, looked around, realized I was in the exact right place, and was so excited that I pumped my fist and yelled Yes! This was the first time I ever took a bus in a foreign country and its not as easy to navigate as a subway. I may do this again!

Since it was already 8:30, I spotted a stand-up burger bar on the corner and stopped in for a cheeseburger. Cheap and quick as I wanted to be back by 9. I could still walk back to the B&B. I made it safely, as this is an upscale residential neighborhood and known to be safe. Still, I'm going to ensure I'm back by 8 on further nights, if I'm even out. I have nowhere else on my list to be or see that is at sunset, so this should work.

Since the forecast for tomorrow is just as pleasant, I plan on going up to Corcovado before the your buses get there. Maybe Ipanema beach later on. And take it easy.

Day 1: En Route, er, RE-Route to Rio

The day began simple enough. Caught 2 buses and the el with no waiting time, and arrived at O'Hare with plenty of time to spare. This was planned because I knew I'd likely run into an issue with my passport. I never updated my passport after my divorce so my last name is still different on it than what is on my license... And notably, than the name on my FF account with the airline. Long story short, it was never an issue flying internationally before because I haven't flown overseas yet on American, where my FF account is. Until today. First they couldn't locate my reservation based on my passport, but could under my locator number. I brought along my birth certificate, old wedding license, and copy of divorce decree just in case. The counter agent understood, as she also went through a name change, so we had a good laugh. My visa was already in order, which needed to be checked for Brazil PRIOR to boarding, so I received my boarding passes and was on my way. A strange slight delay and double-looks at me in the security line, but they let me thorough. The security check station said to manually recheck my pass. Odd, but they waved me through.

I hit up Starbucks as usual and waited for my flight to JFK. I purposefully chose to connect there since Dad and Mary live right by the airport, so they were going to pick me up and we'd have dinner during my layover. Suddenly, I was paged by the gate agent. Huh? This never happened. I overheard that the flight into JFK was over-booked, but I wasn't about to volunteer to change flights.

I went to the desk to find out what they wanted from me. Since not enough people volunteered to give up their seats, and since I was connecting to Rio and checked no luggage, I was the easiest person to move off the flight. I explained that I preferred not to since I was meeting my parents for dinner, but the gate agent pleaded. I relented, and she went to work finding me a new configuration. Through Miami? Dear lord, that place can be a nightmare for international connections. How about Dallas? A little better. What's the weather like? Don't send me anywhere where there might be delays. Secondly, my driver is supposed to meet me tomorrow morning. At least routing through Dallas would get me into Rio 20 minutes before my original schedule. Better than a little later than the Miami connection. I was also trying to get an upgrade in the process on the overnight leg, but seeing as she wasn't pushing to put me in business class, we gave me a few options with some space. Apparently she could put me in a center seat and block out the seats around me so I could lie down, but I didn't want to chance that if she could do that, maybe someone could over-ride her. So I went for the exit row window seat. More room and a place to rest my head while I sleep. Nicely done. As she was handing me my new tickets, she said she would also be give a $300 voucher for my trouble. Score! Sadly I wouldn't have dinner with Dad and Mary, but I connect in New York on the way back so we'll get together then.

Once landing in DFW, it occurred to me that this is the home of some quality BBQ. As attractive as a nearby wine bar appeared, I needed smoked brisket if I was to spend a couple hours here. Delicious. This isn't long enough of a connection for me to leave and have a meal with my cousins who live nearby, and with the anomaly in my passport I don't want to risk leaving and being delayed. So here I sit for a couple hours, charging the electronics and sipping on sweet tea. Thank goodness for the SeatGuru app because I learned that my window exit seat would be narrower than most. I asked to switch and they put me in the last available window seat: last row in front of the bathroom. You know what? The seat still reclines, and no one will kick my seat. After boarding was completed, seems no one else wanted to sit in front of the bathroom, so the seat next to me remained empty. Score again. Then I could stretch out and sleep and lean against the window after dinner. The flight is practically full and I have space to myself and don't have to climb over anyone if I want to get up. Then it turns out that my original flight out of New York was delayed 3 hours, and I get to leave Dallas on time. My own row, on time departure, and a flight voucher. I better not jinx things.

So far I have had a little practice with Portuguese. I've been learning on an iPad app, and in the airport and on the plane I can understand a little. We'll see how it goes when I get there. I love immersing in a local language so I'm happy to have an entire week to adjust and learn. In Europe last year I never spent more than 3 days in any country so I'm glad to have more immersion time this week.

I slept a light 4 hours on the plane but at least it was something. Arrival in Brazil was a breeze. Cleared passport control with no issues. My driver was already there to meet me and our conversation on the way was a hybrid of Portuguese, Spanish, and English. We passed the infamous Sambradromo where the Carnival parade was held just a couple weeks ago (its massive!). After resting for a bit and freshening up, It was after noon and I was getting hungry. The house mom gave me a detailed map of how to get back down the hill via shortcut stairs instead of the road switchbacks, then I was on my way. The tiny stairwells were difficult to find if you didn't have directions, and they wound down through people's courtyards and front doors. I felt Iike I was trespassing.

At the bottom in Botafogo, I headed toward the nearest waterfront overlooking Sugarloaf Mountain. Nearby I spotted a juice bar and popped in for some fresh-squeezed guava and a croissant. Walking further through the neighborhood, I found another sidewalk cafe that featured kibbe (and yakisoba), so I sat down with that and a Coke. Eventually I found my way to the metro station and decided to give it a run and I headed to Copacabana Beach. I hadn't worn a bathing suit or brought a sarong to lie on, but I did have a bathing suit top on underneath (as is my custom, if you me), kicked off my sandals, and walked down to the water. The beach was packed!! I do believe I figured out the system how to rent chairs, umbrellas, and get food. Not sure yet if I'm going to the beach tomorrow or Tuesday, but I do plan on spending a day, buying capraihinas, and whatever food comes along. I also tested out the vendors selling sarongs to get an initial price with which to haggle later (and priced against the shops, too). After an obligatory photo opp in front of Copacabana Palace Hotel, I was tired at this point.

I had considering going to the top of Sugarloaf at sunset, but my dogs were barking and I was begging for air conditioning by the time I found a shopping mall. I spotted a Havaianas store and picked up a cute pair, then headed back to the B&B. I promptly changed into a bathing suit and dipped into the little pool to cool off, but at this time the Mosquitos noticed I checked in and their dinner started. Do turtles eat Mosquitos? Because there's a pet turtle here. Maybe he can help a girl out.

About Rio, it's green. And hot. And everyone is dressed like they're going to or coming from the beach. Body image is a second thought and everyone wears the itsy bitsy bikinis. I'm no sure yet if tomorrow I'll go to the beach first, or to Corcovado. I'm exhausted, but tomorrow is supposed to be the best day of the week. How do I use that? I could see Corcovado from a few vantage points, and besides the beautiful day, it still saw a few clouds. I also haven't had dinner so I can't decide if I should walk down the hill for something (so tired!), ask the house mom to make me a sandwich, or order in. Likely one of the latter. The uneasy 4 hours of sleep on the plane is catching up with me and my body clock thinks its time for an afternoon nap.

Planning for Rio: Brimming with Ideas

Rio has been on my hit list for a while.  I've been watching the fare for at least 3 years.  The stars aligned this month when I saw the fare drop to a modern all-time low from Chicago on American, and I scored AA gift card at the same time.  I wasn't about to let that ship sail, so within a week I booked my ticket.  Forecast is 88 degrees and sunny.  Chicago winter can bite me, I'm heading to the beach!  I'm not sure yet if I'll have a travel companion, so at this point I'm running on the assumption that I'm flying solo.  This is fine.  I fared just fine on my own in Dubai 5 years ago, and I have better language skills in South America.

The more I read about Rio and the surrounding area, the more I'm getting excited... and brimming with ideas!  I'll be there for 5 full days, and I arrive in the morning on the first day and depart at night on the last, so I have almost 7 productive days there.  My original plan was to be a beach bum.  And I will, for no less than 2 days.  But I also don't want to cram too much in and need a vacation after my vacation.

I heard Cariocas love their juice bars for breakfast before hitting the beach.  Then it dawned on me that I adore fresh-squeezed guava juice.  I fell in love with it on Easter Island and haven't had it since.  I can't find it.  No surprise, fresh guavas are difficult to locate in North America.  A little research and I discovered that guavas are a staple at Rio juice bars.  Starting every day with a fresh goiaba juice is going to make me incredibly happy... especially since I really don't like fruit in general (save berries).  Beach Sucos is a juice bar that has 2 locations in Ipanema, so it's a start to visit that one, as well as spending an obligatory day on Copacabana Beach.  Plus they have cheap eats.

At least one day will be devoted to Crocovado, which I learned is best visited first thing in the morning and on a weekday when the crowds are fewer.  If the ticket office opens at 8am, I'll show up at 7am.  Get the touristy stuff out of the way early then nap on the beach the rest of the day.  Sugarloaf mountain?  Maybe.  Corcovado might be enough to get a good view of the city, do I really need to see the view from that high again, just a different vantage point?  I never went up the Eiffel Tower because, well, you can't see the Eiffel Tower from the top of it.  Kind of ruins the view of Paris if you ask me.  But Sugarloaf is next to the Urca neighborhood, and there's a particular post-beach spot I want to hit for a beer and a snack.  Although, one can choose to hike up Sugarloaf.  Hmmm...

One idea that just hit me like a ton of bricks is horseback riding in the jungle.  I need to look into this.  See monkeys, sloths, tropical birds... I love riding horses.  I should do it more often.  This would be a beautiful opportunity.  This might be my second-best idea yet (the beach always wins).

I'm also on the hunt for a gastro-tour.  We took a Kebab Krawl in Istanbul which was one of the highlights of the trip.  So I contacted the tour organizer to see if they had counterpart in Rio.  No (although they're planning one!), but they hooked me up with the Frugal Traveler who may have some insider tips.  I reached out to him on Twitter and am awaiting a response.  He lived in Rio for years and specializes in traveling on a budget.  Right up my alley.

Meanwhile, I've fallen in love with his FT blog.  As I'm discovering while trying to find accommodations, Rio is expensive.  I am not paying $200/night (even $350 as I'm commonly finding) as a solo traveler for a hotel.  Besides, if I'm indeed going to be solo, hotels are impersonal and not the best way to meet fellow travelers.  I prefer B&Bs (always has great success w/ these in foreign countries), and even a hostel, if I can find a vacancy at one with a private en suite room.  No luck yet.  But that blog turned me on to pousadas, so my lodging search will take a tangent and explore this idea.

As for eating, I love me some street meat.  This will be easy.  Food stalls.  Caipirhinas on the beach.  And explore the neighborhood of Santa Teresa for at least one afternoon for some more interesting photography. (This will also give me an opportunity to break in the new camera since my last one broke in Istanbul).  I hear there are some hopping bossanova and samba bars up here, but not sure how I'll wing this at night and solo.  Some logistics issues here.  Do I stay in Santa Teresa and be close to "home" after I go out and not have to venture far?  Or do I stay down near the beach in my plan to be a bum?  It's more expensive by the beaches... and staying at a B&B or hostel up near Santa Teresa may hook me up with other travelers or people that can direct me to some horseback activities or a small group to venture out with for drinks.

I'm not about to make any decisions before reading my Rough Guide, which has promptly been ordered, of course!  However, if you're reading this and have visited Rio, I welcome your hints, tips, and advice... and I know, I know, Rio can be... well, I have to play it safe and be smart.  But safety tips and neighborhood avoidance tips are helpful.  No, I do not plan on doing any favela tours.  I don't believe in using poverty as voyeurism.  In the meantime, my other goal is to squeeze into a bathing suit in 4 weeks.  Travel always seems to motivate me.  If that isn't motivation, I don't know what is.  Now to brush up on my Portuguese.

Istanbul Day 4: Sulemaniye and Kebab Krawl

Note to self: Pace. Rest. Especially if mixing cold weather and/or jet lag. The weekend jaunt has been great, but even with Ambien I haven't had a full night's sleep since we arrived. And even though we didn't believe we planned an aggressive schedule, I really should have planned in some quality down time or even a few naps. I did fine in South America, but it was warm and practically no time change. Noted.

Today's lesson learned was also to take some advice from the locals, which we did. We were told by a few that we really should visit Sulemaniye Casii (mosque). Knowing we'd have a 3-hour kebab crawl that night, we tried to take it easier today. We took one more spin (or two) back through the spice market (honestly, there really weren't any spices there that I haven't already seen in Arab or Indian markets in Chicago) to wrap up our shopping list. The same carpet seller was still outside his stall. He spotted Carrie as I zipped through the crowd, but she gracefully shook him off with an empty promise to return. And good... We did the math last night, and even if I were to buy a small 2x4 kilim rug for half of what he was asking, I could still find a better bargain on a Turkish rug on Devon Street next to my own home. It wasn't worth it to come all the way here to buy something I could get for less than half at home. And with the change in jobs in a few days, I'm not about to throw good money away.

After leaving the bazaar we headed uphill to find Sulemaniye, and we did just in time for noon prayers. It was closed to visitors for the hour, so we explored the grounds, which had a spectacular view of the Golden Horn and around. The weather was pleasant and the grounds were beautiful and peaceful. There were very few tourists with us. That morning we had passed the Hagia Sophia on the way in, and the line was 10x longer than when we went. We picked a good day to head away from Sultanhamet and the hoards. When the mosque re-opened we went inside to a gorgeous, bright, airy, and cool interior. It was quiet and made for a good opportunity to sit and stare into space for a while. The mosque was built 600 years ago at the height of the Ottoman Empire by Sultan the Magnificent, and his body still rests in the cemetery outside. The building is in impeccable shape, as if it were brand new. Now normally I abhor visiting ancient churches in most cities, despite their history, because I despise the idolatry and wasted opulence. I don't feel this way about mosques. Ornately decorated, but no gold- or -silver statues, altars, or other paraphernalia that would have been better spent on serving the masses. I'm pretty sure I hopped on this soapbox in a blog entry last year. But I feel differently about mosques because they lack most of the aforementioned.

Upon leaving the mosque, since it was still near the end of the noon prayers, two gentlemen approached us with small containers and spoons, saying it was a Turkish sweet. With our American pessimism, we asked if they were free. Yes! So we sat and ate along with other mosque members who were also enjoying their treats. I'm not sure what it was, perhaps some cinnamon, apple, hazelnut, bulghar, to name a few. Another young man came around with napkins. A few women next to us were busily mixing more treats into small disposable dishes and putting them out on a small table for all passers-by to take. Help yourself. The few tourists that passed through were happily surprised, and other mosque members were still either arriving for more treats, or helping hand them out. It was like a Sunday church pot-luck, but out in the open for all strangers and not in the church basement. This isn't the first time (or tenth) that I've witnessed the generosity of the Muslim community and I was happy to see this in yet another country (also similar to the public Iftar in Egypt popping up in public places). While we were inside the mosque, Carrie remarked that it was time for food. When we stepped outside, viola! Allah provideth. That, or another example of the unending Turkish hospitality we heard so much about, and likewise continued to experience.

Outside the mosque grounds was a small row of restaurants, and knowing we had a long walk back to the tram, we decided to eat a full meal then and there. There was no English menu, so the waiter took us inside to the kitchen and showed us all the food available. We pointed out what we wanted, and he brought it to our table: meatballs with potato, tomato, eggplant, and rice in a tomato broth. Hearty and delicious as the day was getting cooler and we were seated outside. More tea.

We made a pit stop slightly out of the way to pick up something in particular for Carrie's friend, so we figured since we were in the area, we circled back to the Hippodrome which used to be Byzantine arena. In my in-going international treasure hunt, I found the obelisk of Tutmosis III. Poor Egypt pillaged by so many civilizations. At the end of the Hippodrome was the Column of Constantine, which was where the chariots would make their u-turn to race back to the opposite end. It doesn't resemble anything like an arena now, except a big public promenade. Finally it was time to call it quits for the moment and head back to the apartment for a rest.

About an hour later we headed up to the meeting point in Beyoglu on the mainland European side for the kebab crawl, organized by Istanbul Eats blog. We walked up Isteklal Cadessi which is the main shopping and nightlife district in the city. Forget the Old City full of tourists, this area was more European in feel with more locals and better style. I only wish we had more time to explore it. We met up at a Victorian-era hotel lobby bar, in which the kebab crawl group consisted of two other Chicagoans, from Lakeview no less! Also a guy from Los Angeles, a man from Columbia via San Diego, and two Danish friends. And our guide Megan, who was an American who taught in Vermont, moved to Istanbul, and is getting her PhD from University of Chicago. International indeed.

We hopped in a van which took us to - I am not kidding - 200 feet from our apartment. 45 minutes to get to the meeting place which only brought us back home. A good laugh! We have been staying on the best block for kebabs in all of Istanbul! It's a shame - but not - that the tourists a couple miles down the way have no idea about this area.

We started out at a joint that served up some tasty chicken wings, but the real star here was the liver and fat pieces with a side of onions sprinkled with sumac. Toss in a couple mint leaves and wrap with lavosh, and I had no idea that liver and onions could be so good! I went in for thirds. This is ok portent. I hate liver. I dislike onions. I have never, ever, ever liked them together. It's been probably 25+ years since I tried them, and I know my taste buds have change for sure. And how! But I'm positive this had everything to do with the seasoning and preparation. Is it most definitely not the American vision and version most might recognize (and avoid). If you didn't know it was liver, you would probably eat it.

Next we stopped at an another shop in this Little Urfa sub-neighborhood of Aksaray that served Urfa-style kibbe that had more spices to it than I was accustomed, but still delicious. They also showed us the wood-fired oven that baked the fresh flatbread served here. After a touch of tea as well, we were on to our next stop. This was pretty much a bakery that only baked one thing: flatbread. They supplied all the Urfa-style restaurants in the area with bread. This saves the other restaurants from keeping extra staff to make fresh bread. They buzz the bakery for an order and a runner delivers it within minutes. Literally order-to-delivery is minutes and still piping hot. They made us a sort of Arabic pizza called lahmacun, which was flatbread with minced spiced meat, pickled cabbage, lettuce, and a squeeze of lemon, rolled up and wrapped in paper. Hot and fresh.

Our final stop was at a place that made stellar eggplant kebabs. They were skewered with eggplant, fat, and meat, then when on our plate, mash it all together. Garnish wasn't necessary. We also tried a raw minced meat fixture which I can only describe as meat hummus. Spicy and tasty. Dessert was kunefe. I've had this in Chicago and didn't like it, but was glad I tried it again here. Finished the whole thing. Unsalted goat's milk with shredded wheat on top, toasted, and poured over with a sugar syrup, topped with a dab of water buffalo cheese. Because why not?

Oddly enough in this adventure, the path we took on the kebab crawl followed in the exact footsteps we took when we explored this neighborhood on our first night. We knew the tour would end somewhere around here, but we had no idea that the entire thing would be on our very same block. We probably share a rear courtyard with at least two of these places.

I am full. Stuffed to the gills. I need gills, because my stomach is pressing against my lungs and I'm short of breath. And here ends our journey. Our taxi picks us up in 4.5 hours. I have to pack. I have to snooze. I desperately look forward to sleeping on the plane because I need to rest. Despite all we did, I'm exhausted and want my own bed. And I wish I didn't have to go back to my last two days of my job. Trying not to think about it and looking forward to the next 4-day weekend that starts this Thursday before I begin my new job. But for now I bid Istanbul a hearty farewell.

Istanbul Day 3: The Bosphorus

We only had 3 full days in Istanbul and although we try our best to go with the flow and not pack too much in, we still end up exhausted by 7pm. It seems our common philosophy is "we probably won't be back any time soon so we may as well hit one more thing." Or maybe it's just me. Or it was the rain. Let's go with that.

One of our pre-set goals here was to have a weekend brunch. But based on our schedule, it was more like an early breakfast than lunch. We returned to Akendiz Hatay Sofrasi where we ate on our first night. The breakfast was inexpensive and the food plentiful. I recognized a few items from a typical Arab meal, but the rest was guessing. Overall, delicious. Much like in Paris, I am really digging having cheese with breakfast, but this time dipped in honey, swiped right from a honeycomb. There was haloumi cheese wrapped in phylo and fried, babaganoush, kibbeh, kefte, and other assorted goodies. These are not their Turkish names, but only how I know them in Arabic. Still, warm tea continued to flow, and we knew that with our next stop we'd need a full meal in us for fuel.

Up next: Topkapi Palace. I do believe this was the seat of the Ottoman Empire and the supporting Harem. The Palace isn't one building, but an entire complex. With that in mind, we set out locate the entrance. After 30 minutes of walking around the neighboring park, we hit a dead end. No entrance was yet in sight, although we could see the palace walls. We took advantage of the detour and took pictures of the Bosphorus which we had just seen for the first time. The morning weather was refreshingly cool with scattered clouds, so we did enjoy the view and park. I was slightly giddy about seeing the Bosphorus because for some odd reason it always stood out in my head in childhood history and geography classes. Eventually we did find our way back where we started, and had barely missed the entrance to the palace the first time. Knowing that the palace might pack in the crowds, so we immediately went to the Harem first to beat any future crowds.

Apparently the Harem is where women of good blood were brought into the palace as concubines, and as they produced heirs, their own status was raised within the palace community and the Ottoman administration. With the absence of human representations in Islamic art, the walls were lined with intricate floral and geometric tilework. The word "turquoise" was coined by the French when they saw all the blue used in Turkish tiles. Turk-like. Turquoise. Emerging from the Harem rooms we moved across the palace grounds to the museum rooms where we saw the emerald-emblazoned Topkapi Dagger and the 86 carat Spoonmaker's Diamond. The crowds were thick by this point, so we employed the tactic of throwing a couple elbows and blocking the squirmy kids that were pushing their way through.

Since we were already halfway to the neighborhood, we jumped ahead a few tramway stops to search for lunch in Eminonu along the Golden Horn waterway. The waterfront was a flurry of fisherman, ferries, and commuters. Plus me and my map which I haphazardly attempted to fold in the wind. Fail. Men were fishing off both the sidewalk and the Galata Bridge, and in the process of casting their lines, a few got caught in one another and a comic tug-of-war ensued. We walked the lower level of bridge which housed various restaurants, and picked one that looked especially cozy. In this area, the traditional fare is a fish sandwich so we both ordered up a cheap fishwich and some garlic sautéed prawns. This was my first attempt in ordering an whole meal entirely in
Turkish, and seeing as we did received exactly what I said, I'd call it a success. The waiter became chatty, and after we paid our bill and left a few coins for tip, he invited us to stay longer for some tea. We took him up on his invite, which may have been more than we bargained for. He proceeded to hand me his business card with his personal number on the back and said he gets off at work at 11. This never happens to me back in the States. Turkish hospitality or did we just leave a good tip? Or the fact that we're two female tourists alone is probably bait enough. After finishing our tea, we bade him goodbye and headed out.

Our next mission: continent-hopping on the ferries. We had a general plan. Apparently the one port I had in mind wasn't an actual ferry stop, but really shared a stop with the next one down, so for just 2 lira we joined the commuting masses on the Kadikoy ferry to Asia. What were we going to do in Asia? We'd figure that out when we got there. By that time it had started to drizzle and I was concerned about losing my footing again (damn Danskos, last time I wear them on long trips). We found a busy main thoroughfare and spotted some activity in side alleys, so we chose to explore further. Next thing we know, we're surrounded by auctioneers, fish stalls, and locals. As we passed another alley, we turned east and spotted a shish and tea lounge. Now after being a approached numerous times on the European side to visit a hookah parlor, we felt more comfortable in Asia moving on our own terms, since there were no tourist touts out hunting. We walked in and sat in the window seat that faced directly down one of the souk streets, ordered up a couple teas, and some apple tobacco. There were few people inside, our age, and one guy busily on his laptop. The main guy behind the counter reminded me of Comic Book Guy. No one really spoke English there, but a few basic words sufficed for everyone, and we relaxed inside for about an hour, out of the rain. At this point it was after 4 and it would be dark soon.

We head back out into the souk, which looked like everything fell off the back of a Chinese truck. Finding our way easily back to the port, with some adventurous street-crossing, we found the next ferry we wanted that took us further up the Bosphorus. Dusk was falling and we saw the city alight through the rain. We navigated correctly on the ferries, and connected immediately to the tram that brought us back to the European peninsula. Our next stop was back again in Eminonu and the nearby spice market. We didn't quite have the motivation to shop that we had yesterday, but we scouted the prices of a few items we still wanted, the realized we were famished by that point. The bazaar had a tiny kebab stand, and I picked up a chicken doner kebab for 2tl, wrapped in paper and grabbed a stool. Marvelous. But since it had been hours since our last bathroom break and we had more tea than we could count, a water closet was desperately needed.

I was pulled astray by a friendly carpet seller who educated us about wool kilims, carpets, and silks. We greeted each other back and forth in Turkish, and he then cheerily exclaimed in Arabic, and my adventure in languages was complete. I had no idea how handy Arabic would be in this town and was pleasantly surprised, fortunately. He said it was fine that we didn't buy anything from him tonight, but was happy to teach us about the Turkish craft, and we appreciated his efforts. As he was about to invite us into his shop, I told him we really were looking for one thing in particular: a restroom. He laughed heartily and waved for us to follow him. Around another corner, up a tiny winding stairwell, and into a restaurant that we didn't know existed, where he pointed out the loos. When we emerged, he walked us over to a window by a table, which overlooked the bazaar. It was as if we had our own private peep hole into the bustle of activity below. On so many occasions, like this one, we have learned that if we open ourselves for conversation with locals, there are amazing gems we can experience.

Stepping back out into the rain, we had one more stop to make, at a pastry shop that Carrie had on her list. It was a quaint little shop and we were happy to be out of the rain again. I did finally hit my mental wall, mostly from exhaustion, but the hot cocoa hit the spot and lifted me up again. Finally we were back on our way home again, barely able to mentally handle putting a plan together for the next day. So what do we have planned? Seeing as it was only 7pm and we were ready to crash, we need to pace ourselves tomorrow, since the Kebab Krawl is from 5-9. A mid-day rest may be necessary. We might head back to the spice bazaar, visit the nearby Sulemaniye mosque, and return to the apartment to pack before heading back across the river into Beygolu and Taksim and ride our first-ever funicular to get to the meeting point. More eats await!