On a Scale of 1-10, I'm a 13.1

Holy Moses.

This past Sunday, June 4, 2017, I ran my first half marathon.

I'll let that sink in.

I RAN MY FIRST HALF MARATHON.

Remember how I decided to take up running because I was bored? (Seriously, why? Why didn't I take up sun bathing? Or gelato tasting? Or kitten cuddler? Why running?) In Decemeber-ish, maybe even January, I signed up for a couple of 5Ks, almost fell down the rabbit hole of ordering WAY too many virtual run medals, and then challenged myself to run one race each month. #12monthsofraces My intention was to stick to 5ks. Only 5Ks. Quick, easy, fun, done. 5Ks.

So how did I go from a lover of 5Ks to half marathoner in just six months? (Seriously, I don't even believe it when I say that out loud. Or in my head.) Honestly? Mostly stubbornness, pride, and the fact that I didn't want to lose the money I had already paid.

Despite constant searching, there were no 5Ks to be found in/ around Rio de Janeiro during the month of June. (Even though June/ July have the mildest weather here in Rio, so it seems like the perfect time for some races. But what do I know?) It would be hard to complete #12monthsofraces without a June race. So I looked around and somehow stumbled across the 10th Meia Maratona das Cataratas in Foz do Iguaçu. They were offering an 8K and a 21K race and while I would have been happier with the 8K race, I figured that if I was going to pay the money to fly out to Foz do Iguaçu, I was going to do the whole thing. All 21 stinkin' kilometers of it.

Unfortunately, I paid for the race, but then flights and hotel prices kept creepin' up and up. Upwards of $600 for both for the weekend. Which is a lot of money to pay for a race that I wasn't even sure I was going to like. So I kind of figured that was that. No half marathon, no June race, no #12monthsofraces. But then about two weeks before the race, I checked flight prices and hotel prices on a whim. It was about $200 for both, for the whole weekend. Sigh, fiiiiiiine. For $200, I could do it.

The next thing I knew, I had booked a hotel, a flight, and was officially 13 days away from completing my first half marathon.

At which point I had started to panic because I hadn't really been training due to injury, travels, and friends visiting me in Rio. I spent a couple of days running around the Lagoa and a couple more days running at the gym and the whole two weeks panicking.

Next thing I knew, May was over, June was here, and it was race freakin' weekend. On Saturday, I went to Marco das Três Fronteras, which is where Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina all come together, to pick up my race kit. Unfortunately, I had a taxi driver waiting for me and the meter runs quickly in Iguaçu, so I didn't get to stay long. So that makes two trips to Marco das Três Fronteras and two times without actually seeing the monument.

My Saturday plan mostly included laying around in my hotel room and reading a book/ watching TV, but the TV was only in Portuguese, it was nice weather, and part of the race kit included free admission to Parque Nacional do Iguaçu, so I decided to leave my hotel room and head to the park. As always, it was so worth it.

Seriously, the falls are flippin' awesome. I would spend all day, every day at the falls, if I didn't have to have a job and such. It was also a little bit sunny and a lot a bit misty, which made for some killer rainbows all. freakin'. day.

Before, during, and after. 

All weekend, the weather was predicting 100% chance of thunderstorms for the entirety of the race. It was freakin' me out. I felt like I wasn't prepared, clothes wise, which was causing me far more anxiety than necessary. And despite telling myself to have little to no expectations, 3 hours of running through a thunderstorm was NOT how I envisioned my first half.

Luckily, it was all for naught, as it didn't even rain once single drop. Not once during the race, and only for about 3.5 seconds after I crossed the finish line. Thank goodness, too, because I had enough to deal with without the rain.

13.1 miles is NO JOKE. It's far as heck.

Foolishly, I'd only been training around the Lagoa or on a treadmill and not including any sort of hill workouts. Dumbbbbb because so much of this course was hills. Not major hills, I think there was only a 750 feet elevation gain throughout the entire course, but goodness gracious, we were going up and down those 750 feet the entire time.

It's just so beautiful.

The first 13K were completed outside of the park, and then, at the 8K mark, we entered the park and ran to the falls. I'll admit, it was gorgeous. And I definitely kept reminding myself to enjoy my surroundings, to look around, to soak it all in. I was doing my first half marathon in FOZ DO FREAKIN' IGUAÇU for cryin' out loud. I thought I was dying, but it was pretty amazing.

My goal was to run a sub-2:45 half and I DID. Which is something that I still cannot believe. This half marathon represents so much-- working hard(-ish) for something that I didn't think I would ever be capable of (or even want to do), pushing myself when I wanted to stop, traveling somewhere alone without meeting anyone on the other side.

I don't think that half marathons are going to become my distance of choice (have I mentioned how FAR 13.1 miles is?!), but I did it. And now I know that I can. And on a scale of 1-10, I can now say that I'm a 13.1.

Cardio Is Hard-io: Part 2

Not only did I decide it was a good idea to start killin' it at the box three days a week, I decided that I was going to start running on the reg. New year, new me-- or something like that, amiright?

It started out innocently enough. It was November and I was feeling pretty homesick. I wanted something that was from the States. I needed something that was from the States. It might have been a randomly placed Facebook ad, it might have been a spam email, I don't know how the thought of the Cleveland Turkey Trot crossed my mind, but the fact is that it did. 

I looked at the website, figuring that was as far as this thought was going to go. I mean, I live in Brazil. It's pretty difficult to do a 5K in Cleveland from 5,000+ miles away, right? Wrong. The Cleveland Turkey Trot was also being offered virtually which essentially means that you pay the money and run the distance wherever you are around the world. 

So I paid the money, completed the distance, got the medal and the shirt, and haven't stopped signing up for races since.

"Cleveland" Turkey Trot 2016

After the Turkey Trot, I quickly found myself running in the Circuito das Estações: Verão, which was my first live race besides the Color Run I ran in San Pedro Sula, Honduras a few years back. It wasn't as easy as I would have liked, but I also didn't die. Which might not be the best criteria when talking about how much you like a hobby, but haters gonna hate. I do it for the medals anyways.

Circuito das Estações: Verão 2016

And since it's approximately ten thousand degrees with about 3429% humidity all day, every day in Hell de Janeiro, I joined the gym down the street so that I can run on the treadmill instead of outside.

Since then, I've completed a handful of other races. Which are really nothing to brag about, but yeah, I'm going to do it anyways. Waking up early on a Sunday morning is already a feat in itself.

February: Circuito do Sol- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

March: Circuito das Estações (Outono)- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

March: Athenas 6K- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

April: Serie Delta (Etapa EUA)- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 

 I had poured water on myself, I wasn't that sweaty, okay?

April: Color Run- Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 

April: WRun 4K, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

In following the example of my one my friends, I thought it would be a good idea to do "12 Months of Races". AKA, complete a 5K or higher each month for the year of 2017. I've done live races for the months of February, March, and April, and a virtual New Years run for the month of January. I don't know if a virtual run counts, but it's my challenge, so yeah, it counts.

....It's crazy the things that you get yourself into because you are bored and need something to do.

Cardio Is Hard-io: Part 1

Guys, I did a thing.

As in, I signed up to join a CrossFit gym (or "box", as those in the CrossFit club call it) and have dragged myself there (almost) every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the past five or six months. Before joining the box, I couldn't even tell you the last time I set foot in a gym. I don't know if I have ever lifted a weight.

Now I do it regularly. And despite the words that come out of my mouth (I complain, a lot) and the expressions on my face, I actually enjoy it. 

On more than one occasion, I've conquered the rope climb. Once or twice, I've even done it without standing on a box to start out. I've had less success conquering the handstands and accompanying handstand push ups. Gonna chalk that lack of success up to psyching myself out, bending my elbows, and then bashing my head into the ground. 

This weekend marks the end of the CrossFit Open 2017. Basically, anyone throughout the entire world who does CrossFit can sign up to complete in the open. It's a five week long event with the winners going on to Regionals and then the games. Each Thursday the workout is announced, both the modified and unmodified versions. Everyone completes the same workout, submits their scores, and then you can see how you compare to everyone else, worldwide.

I'm not doing it for the ranking. I know that I'm not elite, nor will I ever be elite. I'm not the best in our box, I'm not even the best in our class. But throughout the Open, we encouraged each other and we pushed ourselves. PRs were set and new skills were attained. 

17.1, 17.2, 17.3, 17.4, and 17.5

It was hard and it was awful and Dave Castro is the spawn of Satan. In my extensive experience with working out, I've never gotten nervous before a work out before. I was nervous before every single Open workout. But it was also awesome. It was awesome to see what I would do, it was awesome to cheer on my friends. 

It's also over. Which might be the best part.

Two Years.

October 5 marked that time of year again. Not the time of year when all of Cleveland celebrates the fact that the Indians are AL Central champs, although that was happening and was fantastic and wonderful and one of the best times of my life.   

October 5 also marked two years of living life as a Carioca-- aka a person from Rio. 

Two. Years.

It's been two years filled with teaching math until I could do long division in my sleep and science until I could recite the Scientific Method on command. Two years of meeting and observations and birthday lunches and popsicles for desserts. It's also been two years of caipirinhas and weekends at the beach and sunsets at Arpoador.

It's been two years of ups and downs, smiles and tears. It's been two years of this wild and crazy Carioca life. 

What's New, Buenos Aires?

Once upon a time, I was on Facebook reading scholarly articles and came across one that said that the Honduran and Argentinian soccer teams would be playing a friendly match against each other on May 27 in Buenos Aires. Which just so happened to be during one of our long weekends (shout out Corpus Christi) and flights just so happened to be less than $300. So we looked for a flight, looked for a hostel, and less than an hour later, we had booked both.

Kenny, Kelly, and I stayed at America del Sur Hostel located in the neighborhood of San Telmo. I'm not a hostel connoisseur or anything, but I have stayed at a number of them within the past year or so. America del Sur definitely wasn't the fanciest hostel that I've ever stayed at, nor did it have the most amenities, but it was, by far, the hostel with the best environment. The hostel had a great staff and a great common area, as well as daily activities such as tours and excursions, that was really conducive to hanging out with the other hostel guests. We did a handful of tours, but we also spent a large portion of our time hanging out with other hostel guests, both inside the hostel and around Buenos Aires. 

Our first 24 hours in Buenos Aires were nuts. We arrived in BA at 1:00am, stood in line for way too long to convert reais into pesos, and didn't arrive at our hostel until almost 3:00am. At which time we fell face first into our bunk beds and were dead to the world until morning. We went on a walking tour of Recoleta which is one of the historical and affluent neighborhoods of BA. We wandered the aisles (rows?) of the Recoleta Cemetery which is unlike any cemetery you've ever seen in your life. Seriously, it's like art and mausoleums and tombs, all rolled into one. To top it all off, you can see where Eva Perón is buried. I'll be honest, I didn't know anything about Eva (AKA, Evita) before going to Buenos Aires, but I left basically an expert. 

Once our walking tour was over, we decided to become our own tour guides and went in search of the Floralis Genérica, AKA, the giant metal flower. Apparently at one time the flower was mechanical and opened during the day and closed at night. I think it's broken now though, but that's okay because we were saw it during the day anyways. Our self-led tour made a little pit stop for some lunch (oh hey, empanadas) and then we continued onwards to walk down the widest avenue in the world in search of the obelisk. We were successful in all endeavors which basically means we're all prepared to be tour guides, am I right?

Clouds for days.

I wear my sunglasses at night. Or in the rain.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was when we went to see the Casa Rosada, which is Argentina's verison of the White House. Minus the fact that the president doesn't actually live there. A fact that I know because I asked some of the guards. Uneducated North American much? Anyways, the Casa Rosada in located in front of the Plaza de Mayo. It's in the Plaza de Mayo where a group of mothers, called the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, gather every Thursday. Why? Because in the 70's, their children "disappeared" under the military dictatorship during the Dirty War. During this time, there were also babies that were stolen and given up for adoption illegally when their mothers were killed in the Dirty War. Originally the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and the Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo were getting together to get answers and to find their loved ones. Today they are still fighting for human, political, and civil rights throughout the world. 

When I was in Spanish 3, we watched a film called La Historia Oficial which was all about the Dirty War. I highly recommend watching it. Even though it's been ten years since I saw the film, I have never forgotten about it and when I realized that I would be heading to Buenos Aires, where La Historia Oficial was filmed, I knew that I had to see the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo. And I did. It was like history coming to life. It was heart-breaking, but it was real. 

Since we didn't cram enough stuff in the first day, we decided to go to a tango dinner show that evening. And we ended up sitting front row. For about $95 dollars, we were treated to a tango show (obviously), unlimited wine and non-alcoholic beverages, four choices of appetizers/ main course/ and dessert, andddd transportation. It may have been the best $95 that I have ever spent. If you ever find yourself in Buenos Aires, head on over to Café dos los Angelitos, you won't regret it at all. 

Front row to the dinner show.

Apps: Crisy Philo with Duxelles of mushrooms and sautéed vegetables in curry carrot coulis

Main Dish: Angus beef with rustic style potatoes and caramelized onions

Dessert: Cointreau's chocolate mousse, strawberry coulis and chocolate, dried fruit praline

Seriously. Who knew that I would even food with names like that? But I did. And I loved it. 

We did another walking tour on our second day which took us to the neighborhood of La Boca. From what I recall, La Boca is where people who used to work in the port lived, so they took left over materials and paint from the port to make their homes. So it's the beautiful, colorful hodgepodge of buildings. It's also home to this cross-eyed statue of Messi who just so happened to be playing against La H the day that I saw it. Photo ops all around. 

We took a break from walking tours, but not a break from walking, on our last day in Buenos Aires and went out in search of El Ateno. It's an old theatre that has been changed into a bookstore and it's freakin' beautiful. In all honestly, it's just like a fancy Barnes and Nobles. The books aren't fancy or anything that I couldn't find at any other bookstore, but the theatre part was incredible.

Argentina, that's a wrap.

All You Need Is A Dose of Vitamin Sea

There are some pretty bangin' beaches just a few hours east of Rio de Janeiro. Don't get me wrong, Copacabana and Ipanema are pretty great, but sometimes you just want to get away and see something new. Last semester we spent a weekend in Cabo Frio and none of us could stop talking about how lovely it was, but every person here in Rio told me that Arraial do Cabo is even more beautiful. So as soon as we realized that, with a carefully planned schedule, we could rent a car and drive to Arraial do Cabo for the weekend, we knew where we were headed. 

We stayed in an AirBnB located in Pontal do Atalaia. Sometimes choosing an AirBnB (or hotel or hostel) can be a little touch and go because you don't know where the "hip" part of town is and you don't know if public transportation is reliable. Honestly, staying in Pontal do Atalaia would have sucked a little bit if we hadn't had a rented car. It wasn't within walking distance to any restaurants or beaches and we waited a solid minutes for a taxi when we were going out to dinner oner night. Luckily, we had a car, so being in Pontal do Atalaia was no problem for us this time around, but I wouldn't choose it if I were to go by bus. 

We spent the our first day laying on the Prainhas do Pontal do Atalaia. The Cariocas were right-- Arraial do Cabo has some beautiful freakin' beaches. Our schedule consisted of swimming, sunning, and snacking. All. Day.

Prainha do Pontal do Atalaia

On our second day, we took a boat tour all around Arraial do Cabo. I really, really, really wanted to see the Gruta Azul, so I specifically looked for a tour that took us there. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that the tours only took us past Gruta Azul and no one actually stopped there. Which I guess I could have figured out if I had actually looked through Google Images more carefully, but I hadn't. 

Our tour did take us to many other lovely places and we were even lucky enough to see some sea turtles. Yassss. We also did some beach gymnastics which earned us many stares, and laughs, from those on the beach-- as if that doesn't happen enough. 

After our tour was over, we had to race back to our car in order to make it back to Rio in time to return the car without incurring any late fees. We returned the car one minute early-- how is that for planning?

So, do the gringos agree with the cariocas? Is Arraial do Cabo actually more beautiful than Cabo Frio? I can't speak for all of Cabo Frio because I only saw one small part. But I can compare what I experienced. I would have to say yes, this gringa does agree. Arraial do Cabo gets my stamp of approval, hands down, and bragging rights that it is more beautiful than Cabo Frio.

Life Was Meant For Good Friends and Great Adventures

Despite my many nomadic adventures, I've made lifelong friends along the way. They're scattered all across the globe and, unfortunately, it's unlike that I'll ever be surrounded by all of my closest friends at a single time. But sometimes stars align and worlds collide and friends from one place that I call home are able to come visit me in another. Sarah and I met when we were both teaching in Honduras. We started out as two sobbing strangers who found themselves suddenly living together and left as two sobbing best friends who didn't know how they'd survive not living together. 

Sarah and Rachel, along with their friend, Jana, made the 10 hour trek to Rio de Janeiro last month and spent a couple of weeks soaking up all that the city has to offer. Mainly unlimited sunshine and caipirinhas.

Sarah, Rachel, and Jana were able to do a lot of things during the day while I was work, such as hiking up to the Christ Statue which is something I have never wished to do. As soon as school let out, the adventures commenced. 

In our adventures around Rio, we stumbled across this really great restaurant in Ipanema called Rayz. We all had some version of chicken, all of which were delicious, but the best part of the meal was definitely the caiprinha. It was raspberry and blackberry and strawberry with a little bit of vanilla and then a coconut popsicle to stir. Seriously-- drink of the gods.

In search of another adventure, we drove to Barra and frolicked around the Olympic Arena on our way to watch the Olympic test event of Trampoline Gymnastics. The women's team had already finished competing by the time we had arrived, so we were only able to see the men's teams, but it was still pretty awesome. The States and Canada were both there, so we were all able to cheer on our countries.

As a side note, I may have made eye contact with one of the US gymnasts while quietly chanting "USA! USA!" And then he smiled at me. And then in a matter of minutes I had planned our lives together which included me tweeting at him and saying "#RoadtoRio? More like #RoadtoRomance" or tagging him in a photo of the two of us (him on the trampoline and me in the stands) with the caption "This is where forever starts." Imagine my disappointment when I found out he has a girlfriend. I'd settle for tour guide though, so, Logan Dooley, if you need someone to show you around Rio in August, holla at ya girl.

We beached in one of the prettiest places in the world when we rented a car and drove to Arraial do Cabo. We hiked Pedra do Telégrafo and played daredevils for the afternoon. We traversed the palm tree lined walkways of Jardim Botanico and we spent an entire night playing every single category of Heads Up. And then, as all adventures usually do, they had to return back home while I stayed here.

It was a wild couple of weeks. But life was meant for good friends and great adventures. Those weeks had both. 

On a completely selfish level, seeing Rio de Janeiro through the eyes of someone who hasn't been gotten stuck in the mudane everydayness totally reminds me how freakin' lucky I am to live here. In the everyday of living in Rio de Janeiro, sometimes I forget that I live in Rio de Janeiro. I live in a place that some people only ever dream of visiting. I have a preference between Copacabana and Ipanema beach because I've actually been to both enough to have a preference. I turn up my nose at coconut water from a bottle because I know that it tastes so much better out of the coconut. I've been up to the Christ Statue more in the past four years than most people in their entire lives. But in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, sometimes I forgot how awesome it is to live in such an incredible place. Seeing Rio through the eyes of people who have never been here before, who have never seen a sunset at Arpoador or drank mate on the beach, really makes me realize what an incredible opportunity I have here.

Pedra do Telégrafo? More like Pedra do I'll Never Let Go

Every once in awhile there are pictures that circulate around the internet of a guy hanging his girlfriend off the edge of a cliff or someone hanging precariously off a rock at the edge of the ocean. And everyone freaks out and says that they don't trust anyone that much, blah, blah, blah. 

Imagine my delight when I found out that that this daredevil's paradise is located in right here in Rio de Janeiro, only an hour or so from my house. 

Daredevils.

And so we went. My hot pink tennis shoes came out to play, we explained to the receptionists at our awesome AirBnB that we needed a car and they all laughed at our enthusiasm, we got lost on the way to Barra de Guaritiba, and, finally, we hiked up Pedra do Telégrafo. 

I was mentally prepared for the hike this time, unlike when we hiked Morro Dois Irmãos, so the hike didn't seem too bad. Rachel and I also adopted Kimmy Schmidt's theory that you can do anything for ten seconds.

 

When we'd been counting ten seconds for what seemed like at least half an hour, Rachel and I started asking people how much longer until we reached the top. Twenty minutes? Okay, no problem. Let's think of what we can do in less than twenty minutes. Watch an episode of Friends. Shower. First recess in Honduras. Perfect. Let's think of all of the things that have lasted longer than twenty minutes that we've survived. And next thing we knew-- we had made it to the top.

We wanted to celebrate our arrival, but frankly, it was too darn hot and we were covered in sweat and dust. Not only that, but we quickly found out that we had to wait in line for about two and a half hours just to take an infamous Pedra do Telégrafo photo. It was hot. We were sweaty. We were in direct sunlight during the hottest part of the day. We were hungry which quickly turned into hangry. But we had driven out to Recreio, rented an AirBnB for the night, woke up early to beat the heat (HA!), and climbed this mountain specifically for these photos, so we were going to stay, gosh darn it. And we did, of course. 

Thank goodness we did because the pictures turned out awesome. Everything I could have dreamed of.

Though I think that Snapchat is really missing out on a good geotag/ filter thing by not having one that says "I waited in line for two hours and all I got was this lousy picture." Because really, at that moment, that's how I felt.

I'll Take One Trip To The Happiness Capital of Brazil for $100, Please.

Let me clarify things for a second. I did not spend my four day weekend in  El Salvador, the Central American country. I did spend my four day weekend in Salvador, the city in the Northeastern state of Bahia. 

Melissa arrived on Wednesday morning and because I didn't pay attention when booking the plane tickets I'm a really good friend who wanted her to be able to see as much of Brazil as possible, we were back at the airport less than eight hours later to board our flight to Salvador. 

We arrived at our hostel in Pelourinho late Wednesday evening and pretty much straight to bed. I mean, we had to be well-rested for the 8 hour tour that we had signed up for for Thursday. 

While in Salvador, we stayed at the Açai Hostel which was a pretty great place to call home for a couple of days. Much like Six Star Hostel that I stayed at in Taipei, Açai Hostel had bunk beds built into the walls and black out curtains for each bed. Each bed also had outlets, a small little locker, and a bedside lamp in each bed as well as a rolling locker for each guest. And they provided the keys for said lockers, which is a huge bonus. The only downside was that the hostel only turned the AC on from 10pm-9am, which is really unfortunate when there's 90% humidity each day.

On Thursday, we took one of the worst tours of my entire life. It was 8 hours of transportation. I'm not kidding. We basically sprinted through Pelourinho, jogged around Dique do Tororó (which is a small lake in Salvador that has statues of Orixás in the middle), caught a bus that took us to the sketchiest train ever, rode a baby boat across the bay where we did eat at the best ice cream in Salvador, hiked up to Igreja de Nosso Senhor do Bonfim and stayed a total of five minutes, crammed ourselves into a tiny car that drove us to the beach, laid on the beach for a total of 30 minutes, got back into the crammed car and drove back to the hostel.

Seriously. It was a huge disappointment. The only high points were the ice cream and the church. I'll admit, the ice cream was pretty bangin'. And even though we were only at the church for about five minutes, we were able to buy some of the famous ribbons, make our wishes, and tie them on the fence. Which is really all that we were going to do there anyways, we just had to do it a little bit faster than I would have liked.

Since we breezed through Salvador so quickly on Thursday, we wanted to devote Friday to exploring Pelourinho and spending some quality beach time. Before leaving Rio, a bunch of people had warned us to be safe in Salvador because it wasn't like Rio. You know, be aware of your surroundings, don't go down dark streets at night. (Which is good travel advice period.) Pelourinho didn't feel unsafe during the day, but I could see how it could get a little sketchy at night. During the day, it was filled with tourists and more shops than I knew what to do with. my favorite part is that a TON of the shops were selling paintings for R$10. Which is a whopping $2.75USD. For a handmade painting. It was pretty awesome. Not as awesome as when we stopped to watch a guy paint and he painted us into the painting, because that was pretty great.

We also stopped for a street performance of Olodum. It was like marching band, but better. I'm also a horrible dancer, but you know, YOLO and all that good stuff. I can say with a solid 98% certainly that I will never hear an Olodum performance on the cobblestone streets of Pelourinho again, so I was definitely going to carpe that diem.

After a morning of shopping and sweating, we were ready to go to the beach. We took a taxi to Praia do Farol da Barra (basically, Barra Lighthouse Beach) and it was definitely one of our best decisions while in Salvador. The water was divine and the waves were calm. Neither of which is true of the beaches in Rio. Seriously, I've been swimming less than ten times the entire time I have lived here. So we swam around, climbed on rocks, dug for shells, and basically played mermaid until the sun set. And let me tell you, it was awesome.

What wasn't awesome was the taxi driver on the way home who greeted us by saying "I'm sad." and then proceeded to talk about his broken heart for the entire 30 minute taxi ride. Seriously. I'm like Chandler Bing in these situations. I'm not good at advice, but I can offer you a sarcastic comment. Which, in my limited Portuguese, was basically "It's over."

And because my life goal is to make everything way more challenging than it should be, I got all of the way to security at the airport before someone told me that one of the souvenirs that I had purchased had to be checked and couldn't be carried on. And even a nice smile and batting my eyelashes couldn't convince them otherwise. Le sigh.

You Can Take The Girls Out Of Ohio...

... but you can't take the Ohio out of the girls.

Let's talk about how much I love Ohio. On a scale of 1 to 10, it's a solid 10. I'm not necessarily going to recommend making a stop there on a journey across the Midwest, but my little heart does start to pitter-patter when my own semi-annual trip to Ohio is on the horizon.

I love Ohio and my hometown, and Cleveland Indians baseball games, and Mentor Headlands,  and Taco Bell. But what I really love about Ohio is all of the people who have adventured through life there with me. 

Melissa and I lived through the awkward high school years together, which included but wasn't limited to, marching band and our spring break trip to Disney as well as theater and winters spent sledding. I have never claimed to have been cool in high school. Since becoming friends, Melissa and I have lived through TEN YEARS of awkwardness together. TEN. YEARS.  It was horrifying to tell this to my students and have them say "Oh my gosh, I wasn't even alive when you guys met!" 

And I was sharing this little tidbit of information with my students BECAUSE MELISSA CAME TO VISIT ME FOR A WEEK!

After a year and a half of life in Rio, I finally had my first visitor. Well, the first visitor who flew to Brazil with the specific intention of visiting me. (Shout out, Grams and Taylor.)

Always representing our home state. 

We packed a lot into a week. Not only did she get to experience Rio de Janeiro, but we also traveled to the state of Bahia in the Northeast of Brazil to play tourists in the little town of Salvador. 

We made three wishes and tied our bracelets onto the fence at the Igreja do Senhor do Bonfim. We ate the best ice cream in all of Salvador at Sorveteria da Ribeira and it was pretty great. We swam at sunset at the Farol da Barra and danced to Olodum on the painted streets of Pelourinho. We almost sweat to death in a town that doesn't have enough air conditioning for being so darn hot. And then at the end of a nice three day weekend, we flew back to Rio where the adventure continued. 

Salvador, Bahia, Brasil

Upon arriving in Rio, we spent Easter morning hanging out with JC at Corcovado. We brunched with the gringo fam. We sipped coconut water on the beaches of Ipanema. We watched the sunset from the top of the Sugarloaf and then wandered the streets of Copacabana in search of good eats and fancy souvenirs. We played Heads Up until way too late and ate authentic American made tacos. We wrangled 38 rambunctious 4th graders on our field trip to the science museum. We stayed up late reminiscing about the old glory days at Chardon High.

Rio de Janeiro, RJ, Brasil

And then after 7 days of Brazilian adventures, we had to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye is always difficult and its something that I have a lot of practice in. I would love to be able to look forward to the future and know that one day I won't have to say goodbyes anymore. Unfortunately, I know that isn't the case because I've chosen to build friendships all over the world and I'll always be missing someone.

And saying goodbye to someone who knew you before the you that you are now always seems to be more difficult. They may not be living the same current experiences as you are now, but they know what you went through to become the person you are now. And it's hard to say goodbye to someone who knows you that well.

For seven short days, I felt like a cooler version of the awkward girl who joined high school marching band because all of her friends were. The tough goodbyes are always worth the feeling of being with people who know you, always worth that moment when you can hug someone from home.

Ms. Melissa, you are always welcome in Rio de Janeiro. Please come back.

Meals at the Metro: The Boua- Kitchen Bar

Restaurant #1: The Boua- Kitchen Bar

Sometimes a person just needs some hearty American food. Like a burger and some beers on tap. (Which sounds like the makings of a country song.) The Boua- Kitchen Bar certainly satisfied every need that I had for some authentic American eats. 

Food photos from me, restaurant photo from Destemperados

Ambience and Environment- 5
The metro station is only a 15-20 minute walk from our house, but it can seem like so much longer when it's hot out. Kenny and I decided to bypass the outdoor seating in favor of the frigid air conditioning temperatures. According to their website, the restaurant is styled after a New York pub and I would say that it definitely fits the bill. It's super industrial with exposed brick and metal pipes and their sound system was blasting all sorts of Top 50 hits.

Service- 3
The service was just average. It wasn't bad, it wasn't great. It just was. In the restaurant's defense, I did have my back to the rest of the restaurant/ waiters and apparently the waiter and Kenny were communicating via eye contact the entire time which is why the waiter didn't come over to check on us.

Menu- 5
Oh, there was all sorts of goodness on the menu at The Boua- Kitchen Bar. Kelly got salmon with vegetables and said she would go back for the vegetables alone. Kenny got some delicious looking bruschetta. And I, of course, got chicken with chimichurri sauce made with malt beer, creamy rice, and french fries. The menu also included many different beverages, both alcohol and non-alcoholic, as well as a variety of beers on tap. The Boua- Kitchen Bar had a pretty extensive menu and a different twist on a lot of the classics.

Wait Time- 3
We waited an average amount of time for our food. Not to the point that we were looking at our watches in anticipation for our food, but it definitely wasn't fast food.

Food Quality- 5
Is it bad if my favorite part of the meal was the drink? Because I ordered the house ice tea with strawberry and cranberry and it was awesome. I would go back just for the ice tea. The portion sizes were more than enough to fill me up and still have some leftovers. Kenny and Kelly both loved their food, so it was thumbs up all around.

Overall Score- 21/25
I've already been thinking about when we can go back to The Boua-- Kitchen Bar, so it's definitely made a lasting impression. While it might not be authentic Brazilian cuisine, it's definitely worth checking out for anyone who is spending any amount of time in Rio.

Meals at the Metro: Venda Mineira

There's a road near the Botafogo Metro that is lined with restaurants. Fourteen of them to be exact. In an effort to get to know my own city, I've challenged myself to try all of them at some point throughout the year. 

Kelly is joining me on this quest and last night, while trying out our first restaurant, we came up with a grading scale of sorts. Because we're obviously the newest food critics here in Rio.

We're going to grade each restaurant in five categories-- ambience and environment, service, menu, wait time, and food quality. And when we've finished all fourteen restaurants, we'll probably have our own Food Network show and, more importantly, we'll actually be able to make some suggestions when someone says "Where do you want to eat tonight?" besides Bibi Sucos.

Restaurant #1: Venda Mineira

Venda Mineira specializes in food from Minas Gerias, which is another state of Brazil. I've eaten at a couple of different restaurants that serve food from Minas Gerais, and in my opinion, the food is always very hearty and warm. It's stews and meats and food that I want to eat when its cold outside. 

Linguiça Acebolada com Cachaça-- Sausage and Onions with Cachaça

Ambience and Environment- 3
Like most of the restaurants near the Metro, Venda Mineira had some seating inside and some seating outside. Kelly and I sat outside and it rained pretty hard while we were there. Luckily there's a fairly large overhang, so we didn't get wet at all. Point for Venda Mineira. The restaurant didn't inspire me to take photos of all the cool decor, but I also didn't feel like I was in danger of catching any weird diseases from just sitting at the table. Which, I suppose, is a win.

Service- 3
Our service is rarely stellar in Brazil (that isn't to say that it's always bad, it's just rarely AWESOME) and I think its because a lot of waiters get nervous when they see that we don't speak Portuguese. I really just want to give them all a pat on the back when we walk in and tell them that it's going to be more painful for us than it will be for them.

Our waiter at Venda Mineira was really friendly and apologetic when he had to come to our table twice to say that they didn't actually have what we had ordered and a third time to say that they didn't actually cook what I had ordered. As we were paying, he complimented our Portuguese which definitely won him some brownie points.

Menu- 3
I'm a fairly picky eater, though I'm trying to be adventurous, and I had a bit of a difficult time choosing what I wanted to order. They didn't have a ton of choices and out of those choices, they weren't even serving a lot of those foods. I settled on shish-kabobs, and then feijão rico (like a bean stew), and then finally sausage.

Wait Time- 2
We timed it. We waited for 50 minutes before receiving our food. FIFTY MINUTES for some sausage, pastel, and french fries. We spent 10 of those 50 minutes looking at the menu and then proceeded to spend 40 minutes waiting. Un-happy campers.

Food Quality- 3
Despite the long wait, the food was actually delicious. It was so. much. sausage. I also got a little loaf of French bread with the meal and eating some sausage and onions with bread was a good choice.

Overall Score- 14/25
If I'm looking for a hefty helping of linguiça acebolada, then this is definitely the place where I will go. Other than that, I could kind of take it or leave it.

May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

And may all your Christmases be white.

Honestly. Winter may be better when it is spent on white sand beaches as opposed to drifting through white snow banks.

The end of the semester is tough. Teachers are tired, students are tired. I'm ready to go home to see my family and friends. Luckily, living in Rio means that there are many gorgeous beaches within driving distance.

On this particular weekend, we boarded the bus for Cabo Frio and were met with some of the whitest sand beaches and blue water I have ever seen in my whole life. We stayed at Hotel Mandai which I highly recommend. We paid basically pennies for a resort on the beach. And they were super accomodating. I mean, I suppose that customer service is kind of the name of the game when you're a hotel, but they were really awesome.

We didn't get out and explore the city, but we just couldn't bring ourselves to leave the beach. We spent the days ordering beach food and swimming in crystal clear water as well as climbing the dunes and building sand castles. It all seemed a little bit sweeter knowing that we were just ten short days from the artic temperatures waiting for us in the States.