In Peru With the Parents

On Wednesday, June 13th, I flew from Buenos Aires to Lima, Peru, where I arrived just before 5:30pm.  My parents were meeting me in Lima to spend the last week of my trip with me before I flew back to the U.S. after 11 months away.  They had told me they were sending a taxi to come pick me up at the airport, but when I walked out of customs into the waiting area, they were standing there with a sign (as if I wouldn't recognize them.)  It was definitely a surprise to see them, though I'd had a secret suspicion that they might come meet to me so it wasn't a total shock.

It was rush hour when we left the airport so it took a little while to drive over to the Miraflores neighborhood where our hotel was located a few blocks from the beach.  We finally did arrive and I dropped my bag off in our room before we left again to go get some dinner.  None of us were all that hungry and my parents had eaten a big lunch so we found a cafe within walking distance where all had some sandwiches.  It was warmer than it had been in Buenos Aires so even after the sun set it was a nice walk back to the hotel.

The next morning, we had to get up early again to catch one of the first flights out to Cuzco.  We took a cab to the airport and then had a short, direct flight to the 11,000-foot high Andean city.  An English-speaking guide with the tour company that my dad had booked our trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu through, met us at the airport with a driver.  She drove with us to our hotel and explained a bit about the city and our four-day tour along the way.  I was feeling a bit woozy from the plane flight and my mother also seemed to be affected by the altitude so when we got to the hotel we took a short rest while my dad went off exploring.  Then in the afternoon we all wandered over to the main Plaza de Armas where celebrations were underway for the final day of the Catholic Corpus Christi festival.  As we stood in the crowded square, the 14 saints of Cuzco were carried on floats from the main cathedral in a procession around the plaza.  Somber bands played over one another in a cacophony of music.  It reminded my parents and I of the Semana Santa festivities that we had witnessed in Sevilla, Spain, when they visited me during my semester abroad.

As my dad ran around taking pictures, my mom had to sit down because she had a pounding headache.  After watching the procession for about an hour, we'd all had just about enough sensory overload and so we headed back to the hotel.  The high altitude was really getting to my mom so she drank cup after cup of coca tea and then lay back in bed.  At that point, my dad and I were for the most part feeling fine so we went out to dinner at a nice organic (or so they said) Peruvian restaurant.  I decided to be adventurous and order the alpaca steak because I couldn't bring myself to try guinea pig since I'd had one as a pet.  The alpaca was actually not all that bad.  We brought my mom some plain pasta back and she was able to eat a few bites.

All seemed fine until the middle of the night when my dad suddenly woke up and started getting sick.  It woke me up too and I felt really bad, but there was not much that I could do.  In the morning I offered to get everyone coca tea (which is supposed to help with the altitude) but my dad was not a big fan.  My mom, however, drank the stuff like it was water.  I went off to get my laundry washed and then in the afternoon we had our city tour of Cuzco.  My dad still wasn't feeling well, but my mom was doing better so the two of us went by ourselves.

We met up with the rest of the group in the Plaza de Armas and went inside the Cathedral of Santo Domingo where we got to see some of the saints from the day before up close.  It was interesting to learn how Peruvian traditions had been interwoven into the Catholic symbolism.  A painting of the Last Supper, for example, included a cooked guinea pig as the main course.  The choir loft appeared to be made of a dark wood carved with traditional religious symbols, but on closer inspection also featured naked Incan idols.

From the church, we traveled to an actual Incan site downtown called the Korichanca or Temple of the Sun.  During the time of the Incas around 4000 priests and their attendants lived in the temple confines.  It was a glittering palace with gold panels lining the walls.  The gold is now gone, but many of the original walls still remain intact, integrated into a Dominican convent, which has since taken over the space.

Getting back on board the bus, our tour group headed out of the city center into the hills surrounding Cuzco to visit some of the Incan archaeological sites.  The first stop was Tambomachay where we had to climb a small hill to get to the ruins.  During Incan times the stonework was used as a site for ritual bathing and hydraulic cascades of waters still remain, though they're no longer accessible.  From Tambomachay, we went down to Q'enqo, another Incan ruin that features an underground chamber.  No one is exactly certain of the chamber's function, but the theory is that the cold stone slab shaded from the sun was used for ritual sacrifices or embalming nobles.  The last stop on the tour was at the Sacsayhuaman Fortress where we arrived just as the sun was setting.  The site is known as a fortress because of its immense terrace walls made out of large polished dry stones that fit tightly together without mortar.  It was definitely a magical sight to see as the sunset turned the rocks a rosy color.

On the way back down to Cuzco, we stopped at a warehouse where vendors tried to sell us all manner of alpaca wool garments, but the prices were pretty steep.  When we arrived at the hotel, we convinced my dad to come join us for dinner where my mom and I ate pasta, but my dad could barely manage a few spoonfuls of soup.  We learned the likely reason why a few days later.  Apparently when up at high altitude, it can take a longer time to digest food.  That's why my dad had trouble when he lay down in certain positions and why he had no appetite.  Unfortunately, we realized this a bit too late, but luckily the problem soon solved itself when we headed down to a lower altitude the following day.




I'll post the photos tomorrow.

To Argentina Again

Buenos Aires pretty much became my home base while I was in South America because it was relatively cheap to fly in and out of.  Therefore, since I had decided not to go to Iguazu Falls, I headed back to the city after my week in Brazil.  I bit the bullet and ended up taking a car home from the airport because the next shuttle bus to downtown didn't leave for over an hour after my arrival. Then I still would have had to take a city bus back to Palermo and I was already exhausted.

On Sunday, I was so tired from traveling (and barely sleeping) the day before that I slept in rather late.  I was still fighting a cold so I ended up just spending most of the day walking around the neighborhood.  I think I had reached a sightseeing saturation point and just needed to take a break.  Close to where Adela lives is a small Armenian community so I did have a nice dinner at a local Armenian restaurant.

On Monday, I took the subway to Tribunales armed with my video and digital cameras.  I had lunch in a nice cafe in a pedestrian plaza right off of Avenida 9 de Julio and then went out along the main street to get some shots of the Colon Theater, the Obelisk and the huge portrait of Eva Peron.  I had planned to also go back to Puerto Madero to cross over to the other side of the harbor, but I just ran out of time.  I had to get back to Palermo because I was meeting Lisa who had just arrived the day before from Rio.  I met her at the Plaza Italia subway station and we walked from there back up Armenia toward Adela's house until we picked a place to stop and get some dinner.  We then found a bar where we had some drinks and got into a ridiculous conversation with a local Argentinian guy and his female German exchange student friend.  Neither of them spoke very good English so I think they were using us to practice.  Once it started getting late, Lisa caught a cab back to her hostel and I walked home to Adela's.

On Tuesday, it was my last full day in Buenos Aires before heading out of town for the final time.  I didn't do anything too ambitious because I had some last minute things I needed to get organized before I left.  I walked down to Plaza Italia to get some things from the drug store and thank you cards and gifts for Mateo and Adela.  On the way there and back I stopped at several real estate agencies that I had previously spotted so see if they had any potential clients who might want to apply for House Hunters.  Some spoke better English than others, but it was definitely a big challenge trying to explain the process of the show in my broken Spanish.  I did get a bunch of business cards, though, so I figured I would e-mail them with the details when I had more time.

In the evening, once I was back at Adela's, Mateo stopped over to say goodbye.  Antonio was sick at home with Greta so he couldn't stay too long.  We did share a cup of tea and he helped me to arrange a car to the airport for my flight to Lima, Peru, early the following morning.  He then found a milonga where I could go to watch tango that night.  Fortunately, it was right down the street, but unfortunately it didn't start until after 11:00pm.  I knew I had to get up pretty early so I packed all my bags to make sure I was ready to go before I went to bed.

The milonga was a few blocks away on the main road in a large open space with a dance floor.  When I arrived shortly after 11:30pm, recorded music was still playing.  I picked a table off to the side and ordered a glass of red wine.  Sitting there watching the couples spinning around the dance floor I soon became almost mesmerized.  It was nearly 1:00am before the band arrived and finally started playing so I decided to stick around a little longer and order a second glass of wine.  Tango is such an intimate and sensual dance that I had the sudden urge to learn how to do it.  Several older men actually did approach me and ask if I wanted to dance.  However, even though I was slightly tempted, I was way too bashful to get up in front of everyone.  Besides, instead of wearing heels like all the other women, I was wearing flip flops.

It was nearly 2:00am before I finally pulled myself away and headed back to the house.  After two glasses of wine and hours of being lulled into a trance by the dance, I was feeling rather mellow.  Then something happened that snapped me back awake.  I put my key into the old fashioned lock on Adela's imposing wooden door and it just wouldn't budge.  I'd had a bit of trouble with the lock before, but nothing quite this bad.  I stood outside for at least 15 minutes jangling the key till my fingers ached.  I didn't make any progress.  I finally resigned myself to my fate and knew what I had to do.  I had to ring the doorbell and wake up my gracious, snoozing hostess.  After several buzzes, a drowsy and confused Adela finally arrived and I explained the situation through the divide.  She tried to open the door from the inside, but had no luck herself.  In the end, she unlocked the window in the front salon/drama room and I crawled inside through there.  I felt absolutely awful for waking her up, but I had no other choice unless I wanted to sleep on the sidewalk.

Five hours later when my taxi arrived, I feared I would have to wake Adela again since I didn't want to leave the window unlocked.  When the driver came to the door I tried opening it from the inside again, but still had no luck.  At just that moment the cleaning woman arrived and she tried as well from the outside.  Nothing was working so I went to grab my bag and handed it out through the window before climbing out myself.  The good news was that since the cleaning woman had come I didn't have to wake up Adela.  The cab driver and I gave the terrified middle-aged woman a boost through the window and with that I was off to the airport.

At the Copa, Copacabana

Even though I didn't get much sleep on my second night in the new hostel in Rio, I still woke up the next morning to check on the weather for hang gliding.  Lisa had decided she wanted to join me so we went down to the front desk at the crack of dawn.  Once again we were told that the weather was too windy and overcast with a threat of rain.  I headed back to bed and slept for several more hours.  With our plans dashed yet again, Lisa and I decided to head downtown with Mana, Tulee and Angus to the Santa Teresa neighborhood.  Another new arrival from Germany named Zeyep and an Australian guy named Will also planned to join us.  Unfortunately, Zeynep couldn't get money out of the bank since her ATM card had accidentally been demagnetized and Will offered to stick around to help her.

The rest of us hopped on the subway and rode downtown to the Lapa station.  Our first stop was supposed to be the Escadaria Selaron, which is a famous set of stairs decorated by the Chilean-born artist Jorge Selaron.  Selaron began renovating the dilapidated steps in front of his house in 1990 using fragments of blue, green and yellow tiles in reference to the colors of the Brazilian flag.  Now the 250 steps are covered with 2000 tiles from 60 countries all over the world.  At first we had a bit of trouble even locating the staircase, but after asking several different people on the street, we finally found our way.

Since the stairs are covered with tiles from all over the world, we all had fun trying to find ones that matched our home countries and states.  I found one or two from New York, but didn't see any from Connecticut.  About halfway up, however, we ran into the artist out in front of his home.  He was mainly there trying to get people into his shop to buy his own homemade tiles and works of art.  The cool thing was that if you did buy something, he would personally sign it.  I bought some (pre-signed) magnets since that's my cheesy tradition.  Selaron's assistant who spoke English explained to us that people still send him tiles to swap out for ones currently on display.  Maybe I should send him one from Connecticut to add to his collection.

Once we finally got to the top of the escadaria, we were at the lower end of Santa Teresa.  The neighborhood is on the top of a hill in the center of Rio and is known for its narrow, winding streets and enclave of artists.  We wandered up to the top and tried to go to a museum, but couldn't find the entrance.  At another stop, Mana tried ordering a serving of acai, but the guy in the shop was too bothered to make it.  We considered stopping for lunch, but instead just popped into a few different boutiques and art galleries before making our way back down the hill.  By the time we got down, everyone was in the mood for some acai so we stopped at one of the innumerable juice shops.  After resting for a bit, the group headed back toward the subway.  It was still only mid-afternoon so I decided to stop in the National Museum of Fine Arts before returning to the hostel.  I had a nice time walking around and particularly enjoyed seeing old paintings of Rio and an exhibit of family and self portraits by a Brazilian artist.

That night, Will and I had talked about getting tickets to a soccer match either on our own or through the hostel, which was organizing a group outing.  In the end, we never got our act together, but it turned out to be for the best.  It poured down rain that night and we would have been completely miserable outside in the stadium.  We basically all just took it easy instead since we were tired from the late night before.  Lisa and I also wanted to get up early on Thursday morning to try once again with the hang gliding.

Unfortunately, the morning's cloud cover foiled our plans for the third time.  We hoped it would clear up by the afternoon and we'd have another shot then.  With that in mind, Tulee and I decided to go up to the Christ the Redeemer statue in the morning, figuring we would be back down to the beach on time for an afternoon flight.  I arranged to meet up with Lisa back at the hostel at around 1:00pm to reassess the situation.   In the end, things didn't go according to plan.  I hadn't extended my hostel reservation on time to remain in the same room for another night so I had to move all my luggage to the room next door.  Once I finally got organized and took a shower, Tulee and I were already running late.  We asked the hostel for directions, but then had trouble finding the spot where we were supposed to catch the bus.  By this time it was nearly noon.  I realized there was no way I was getting back in time to meet up with Lisa.  I felt bad about completely ditching her so Tulee and I went down to Copacabana where she had gone to swim.  Since it was still really overcast and windy, the prototypical Alaskan girl was the only one splashing around in the water.  She was therefore pretty easy to spot.  Both Lisa and I agreed that we didn't think the weather was going to change so I was free to go off with Tulee to attempt to go to the statue.

Unfortunately, our luck didn't improve after that.  Tulee and I took the bus to the base of Corcovado mountain where visitors can either take a private taxi or a tram ride up to the 130-foot-tall statue.  There was no line at all for the tram, but there was a very good reason why.  We could see from the video monitors showing the view from the top that the peak was completely shrouded in clouds.  The visibility was practically zero.  Obviously we would be able to see the statue up close, but there would be no chance of seeing the view of the city, which was the main attraction for Tulee, the Jewish Israeli.  We decided it wouldn't be worth it to pay to go to top and we would try again the next day.  We hopped on the bus right back to Copacabana, our plans for the afternoon ruined.

Back at the hostel, I ran into Lisa who had returned from the beach.  She was just about to leave to go over to the Confeiteria Cafe, a Victorian tearoom in downtown Rio that's been open since 1894.  I hadn't really eaten and had nothing better to do so I tagged along.  We shared a late afternoon tea set, which for Lisa was a first.  Everything was really good and definitely filled us up for dinner.  Unfortunately as we were leaving to get on the subway, the skies once again opened up.  We had to race down the street dodging rain drops to make it into the station.

That night back at the hostel, our multicultural contingent, weary of the bar there, decided to venture over to the hostel next door.  That hostel had a bar in the basement, which unlike the bar at our place, stayed open past 11:00pm.  We had so much fun writing messages on the walls, learning how to samba dance (not too successfully on my end) with lessons from the bartender and drinking caipirinhas into the wee hours of the morning.  For most of us, it was our last full night in Rio so it was a bit bittersweet.  The next evening, Mana was heading back to Holland after five months away, Tulee was on a flight to Israel following seven months of travel and Will was off to Canada for the next leg of his journey.  Meanwhile, on Saturday I had a flight back to Buenos Aires from Sao Paulo and Lisa was also planning to fly there that day from Rio de Janeiro.  The only ones sticking actually around for longer were Angus and Zeynep.  That said, I was actually debating back and forth about whether I was going to just blow off my flight and take a bus to Iguazu Falls and then to Buenos Aires instead of lying.  However, I felt like I was starting to get sick so that new plan was literally still "up in the air."

The next day, we all agreed to meet at the hostel at 6:00pm for farewell drinks before Mana, Will and Tulee had to head to the airport.  In the morning, Lisa and I tried one final time to go hang gliding before giving up for good.  With the weather still uncooperative, Tulee and I instead headed back over to Corcovado.  This time there was a sizeable line to get onto the tram.  The mountain remained clouded over, but it was our last chance to get up to the top.  Once we arrived, the peak was mobbed with people.  We had to fight our way through the crowds to climb up the stairs and get a good look at the Art Deco statue of Jesus of Nazareth holding his arms to the sides as if on the cross.  Tulee had fun playing around with the sculpture, but others were clearly not so easily amused.  Luckily, even though the sky was white with haze there were breaks in the clouds that gave us a good view of the city and sea stretched out below.

Getting down off the mountain was thankfully much less of a hassle.  When we got to the bottom, I made the decision that I should really go buy a bus ticket to head back to Sao Paulo so I wouldn't miss my flight.  Trying to go to Iguazu was in the end just way too complicated.  Since I didn't have a room booked in Rio that night and our current hostel was full, my plan was to take an overnight bus to Sao Paulo and then take a shuttle to the airport from there.  After trying to book a ticket at the company I had originally wanted to use, but not understanding where I was supposed to go, I finally resigned myself to booking a spot on the 11:00pm bus with the same line I'd taken to get there.  I then splurged and caught a nice tourist bus (as opposed to the local bus) back to Copacabana.

By the time I got off the bus, it was nearly 5:00pm and I had some shopping to do before our arranged meeting at 6:00pm.  There was a certain gift that I wanted to get for my new friends, but it was a bit difficult to find.  I finally tracked it down and arrived at the hostel just a few minutes late.  However, the only ones there were Angus and Will.  Finally Mana and Tulee drifted in, but Lisa and Zeynep were nowhere to be seen.  I finally gave up and went through my elaborate gift presentation without them.  Lisa arrived a short time later, having just missed out on all the fun.  By that time, the other three had to catch their cab so we all had to say our goodbyes.

Once they were out the door, Angus, Lisa and I went over to the other hostel for some drinks and a barbeque.  The owner wanted us to recruit people to come over, but at first we were only mildly successful.  Eventually more people started arriving and we had a pretty good time.  As the hour approached for me to leave for the bus station, I continually put it off for a little while longer.  Finally it was imperative for me to leave or risk missing my bus.  I was really torn about going since I was having so much fun.  However, I knew in my heart that I had to be responsible and do the right thing.  I pulled myself away and luckily grabbed a cab that was just passing by out front.  Angus kept trying to get me to change my mind and stay or even to turn around and come back.  Once the cab pulled away, though, I knew I would get on the bus.

We arrived at the station and I got on board only to sit there waiting to leave.  After nearly an hour, they made us disembark and get on a different bus since apparently ours wasn't working.  Once we got on the new bus I passed out until we pulled into Sao Paulo just after 7:00am.  My flight wasn't until 1:00pm so I had plenty of time.  I figured I would book a shuttle bus over to the airport where I could relax for a few hours.  There were two other girls ahead of me in the ticket line who were also clearly backpackers.  When they found out the price for the shuttle, they had a change of heart.  They decided to take the subway all the way to the airport.  Like them, I had plenty of time and the ever-present inclination to be frugal and hoard money.  Should I take the subway as well?  In the end, my exhaustion won out and I decided it wasn't worth the effort.  I did feel a bit like the hardened traveler who finally sells out after 11 months on the road.  But I guess sometimes you just realize convenience is worth the extra cash.

Rockin' Rio

I'm writing this right now from exotic (not so exotic) Lansing, Michigan, on a shoot for work.  I have a few more posts to finish up the rest of my trip so I'll try to get those all done soon.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro by bus from Sao Paulo late in the afternoon on June 3rd.  The bus station wasn't very centrally located so even though the hostel where I was staying had sent instructions for getting there by bus, I decided to take a taxi.  I knew the hostel was located in a favela or slum area, but most of the reviews I had read on-line seemed to indicate that the location was relatively safe so I wasn't too concerned.  However, as we got closer and started to go up the hill, things took a turn for the worse.

My first clue that something was amiss was the torn-up and muddy road that the cab driver had trouble driving on.  At one point he said he couldn't go any further, but when I pointed out that I didn't know where I was and had all my bags with me, he reluctantly agreed to keep going.  Some of the local guys even jumped on the car's hood to help him try to get traction.  Then we got to another spot that was nearly impassible and this time he completely refused to continue uphill.  As I loudly protested and asked where the heck I was supposed to go, he vaguely waved up the road as I grabbed my bags and paid him (without giving a tip.)  I had to trudge the rest of the way on foot along the side of a narrow muddy road with all my belongings on my back.  Luckily I hadn't gone that far when I saw a sign for the hostel and was able to get inside behind the locked gate.

Once inside I found out the cause of the horrendous road conditions.  There was currently no running water.  The water main had broken for the entire favela, which was why construction crews had been digging up the streets and leaving them a mess overnight.  The guy at the front desk told me he was hoping the water would be back on by the next day, but I decided to cancel one night of my three-night stay because the situation still seemed to be pretty dire.  I felt bad about canceling at all so I figured I could stick it out for two nights.  Unfortunately, with the lack of water the hostel was in pretty rough shape.  The kitchen was a mess with dirty dishes piling up and the only available water in the bathrooms was in huge jugs to be used only for "flushing" the toilets.  I had to venture out beyond the hostel walls again just to get bottled water from the bar next door so I could brush my teeth. Washing my face or hands was sadly out of the question.  In my dorm room there were only two other people and one of them was a middle-aged man, which was also slightly awkward.  Then starting very early the next morning, people were out smoking on the balcony right next to the room.  That was the last straw.  No matter how bad I felt for the people running the place, I just couldn't stay there any more.  I booked another hostel on-line and then went downstairs to check out and cancel my second night.

Luckily the woman at the front desk was understanding and even gave me a map to show me how to get down to the main street.  There was probably a way to take a bus, but it seemed like it was just easier to walk to my new hostel so I decided to hoof it.  The favela was much less intimidating in the morning light and the construction crews were already back at work on the roads by the time I walked by.  I made my way down the hill to the main street along Copacabana Beach and then found the new place a few streets back from the beach relatively easily.  The most annoying part was the steep uphill climb right before I got to the entrance.  Once inside I had to leave my bags by the storage lockers until I was able to check in later in the day.  Fortunately, they let me take a shower in one of the bathrooms so I was able to finally get clean.  I then put on my bathing suit and set right off for the beach.  I ate lunch at an outdoor restaurant across the street and then spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the sand.  In retrospect, I'm really glad I did because it turned out to be the best beach day of the week.

Once I got back to my hostel later in the afternoon, I was finally able to check in and move my stuff up to my room.  The room was nice because each bed had a set of privacy curtains, but I was stuck with the one bed that wasn't also up against a wall so only one side was secluded.  While I was getting organized I met two American sisters, one of whom was working on a research project in Brazil for the semester.  Then a bit later I met a Dutch girl named Mana who was also staying in my room.  The other girls had gone out apartment hunting so I invited Mana to go get some dinner.  She had told me about a woman from Alaska named Lisa who was another one of our roommates and when I met her as I was getting ready I invited her to dinner as well.  The three of us went to a local place where we cobbled together enough of our Portuguese/Spanish knowledge to figure out how to order since the waiter didn't speak English.  Mana, who had been in Brazil for a while and in South America as a whole for several months was probably the most proficient of all.

Earlier in the day, I had seen an advertisement for hanggliding (something I had wanted to try since childhood) in the hostel lobby.  The next morning I got up early and tried to organize a trip.  Unfortunately, the weather was overcast and rainy so they weren't flying.  I decided instead to head to downtown Rio.  Armed with just a map from the hostel I took the subway to the Flamengo station and randomly picked a direction to start walking in the hopes of hitting the coastline.  After a few missteps, I did make my way to the Parque do Flamengo.  I walked along the beach for a while and then crossed over to try to go up to the Gloria Church.  It was on the top of a hill, though, and I couldn't figure out how to access the road to get to the top.  Giving up after a few minutes, I walked back across the street, passed a World War II monument and a small boat harbor before getting to the heart of downtown.

Walking down the main Avenida Rio Branco, I passed some municipal buildings, the National Library of Brazil, the beautiful Municipal Theater and the National Museum of Fine Arts.  Then it suddenly started to pour down rain.  I found a place to stop for lunch and then once it let up, continued on my way.  Once I hit Avenida Presidente Vargas I headed west in the hopes of making it to a few more landmarks noted on my map.  Along the way, I wandered into the Praca da Republica where I ran around with these huge guinea pig-like creatures that looked like they could eat me (I think they were capybaras.)  Soon, though, I realized there was no way I was going to get as far as I was hoping.  My feet were aching and it was getting later and later.  I decided to make my way toward the subway to go back to Copacabana.  Unfortunately by this point, I had no idea exactly where I was, so I headed back vaguely in the direction from which I had come.  I went by the parade grounds and through some not-so-great areas until I finally reached the Rio de Janeiro Cathedral.  I didn't really know where the subway was and it was already starting to get dark, but luckily as it was rush hour I was able to just follow the flow of people until I got to a station.

Later that night, back at my hostel, I met up again with Lisa, Mana, their new friend, Tulee from Israel, and a South African guy named Angus.  We stayed up well into the night even get yelled at for making too much noise in the courtyard.  From there on out my time in Rio suddenly became much more interesting.