Progressively Louder Laughter

(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:

Song of the Day: Nutbush City Limits – Tina Turner

I am sitting crossed-legged on a bottom bunk in a blissfully cozy (tiny) private room in a hostel. Guess what? I’m in Brazil babies.

I have compiled a list of travel rituals I have observed myself hypnotically playing out during my travels in the last 24 hours and for most of my adult life:

• Though I theoretically aim to leave for the airport so that I arrive 2 hours in advance, I have found in recent years, on on a subconscious level, I like to I live on the edge. I typically give myself a tight 1h45m. This may be a generous calculation.
• Not to be deterred from a challenge, I will spend what little time I have left: drinking a pint of beer. The less time I have to drink the beer, the more fun it is to board the plane. It also cuts down on all of those awful boarding call lines. Stowing baggage in the overhead compartment is not always an option. I promise I have only heard my name over the speaker once.
• For longer, more leisurely trips, I will usually get suckered into buying a page turner-mystery novel. I only ever buy these books at the airport after panicking over the foolish decision to once again take a stab at Infinite Jest. For so many reasons (including the weight) that book is the antithesis of a vacation book.
• My preferred flight drink? White wine. I sound like a real boozehound, huh. Flying is bananas! When you have a window seat and a nice white wine buzz, the world is just miraculous.

I watched Before Sunset on the plane and had this yearning to walk in a foreign city and talk to someone about everything. I also had a distinct yearning to be completely alone. A result of being on a red-eye flight which is full to the brim with people. On red-eye flights, sleep is really the most elusive thing. You contort your body desperately to try to replicate some kind of semblance of a sleeping position. Why is it in that these moments, out of all the moments, that my legs feel the need to dance?

Sitting crossed-legged in this closet-sized room, knowing that I will be able to LIE DOWN soon is the making me giddy. That and finally getting a bit of much-needed SLEEP!

Here are pictures I took from my old iphone today. They aren’t great but they are my little snapshots of Brazil so far. More to come babes.

30 Minute Playlist: Get out of this state