Limits

(Hostel living)

I’ve been a victim to a couple of travel dilemmas in the past 48 hours, both of which [I think] are manageable (excuse me for a moment while I go knock on some wood) and both of which are ssstttrettccchhinngg my patience. It’s nice when you can solve a problem and then dust off your hands so that they’re clean of it. It’s Sunday in Brazil. It’s Carnival in Brazil. It’s a day of mischief and trouble. It is not a day of tidy troubleshooting.

HI- I accidentally came to Brazil during Carnival and had no idea.

The hotel rates did not tip me off.

The Carnival costumes at the mall did not tip me off.

The greeting at my first hostel: “did you come for Carnival?” did not tip me off.

HI- I’m oblivious.

One of my travel dilemmas has meant that I have barely had the chance to experience Carnival, and maybe this is just me becoming a curmudgeon in my old age, but it’s not much skin off my back. I get the whole gist of it. Party, music, drums, sweat, vendors everywhere. It can be a little bit much for me some days. And maybe on the flip side of that coin, it also means that part of me is becoming more accepting of what I can’t change. Let’s just say a prayer to Timothy Leary that it’s a nice trip from here on out. Everyone has their limits.

Pictures of carnival and a park: