Mais duas semanas

I think the panic is finally starting to set in.

I'm realizing that the list of things to do before I leave is getting checked off one by one, and we're down to the last-minute stuff like ordering reais and buying extra bottles of sunblock. I can no longer look in the mirror and optimistically think that I have time to work on the state my figure is in...this is pretty much what I will look like on the beach in Copacabana. (Thank God carioca men are more forgiving than Angelenos...) I'm nervously trying to get a jump start on things that I already know I can't really do until I get there, like buying a pre-paid Brazilian cell phone, and contacting the people I will be staying with in São Paulo and Florianópolis.

And last night I tossed for two hours, unable to sleep, unable to pinpoint what it was that was keeping me up...it wasn't caffeine, it wasn't a lack of activity during the day, I just could not sleep. I had the vague sense that something was off, and couldn't shake it.

It's all coming together so beautifully and perfect so far that I guess it's only natural I'd worry it will all derail. My housing arrangements rely on me opening up and trusting someone I'd genuinely believed six months ago that I would never see or talk to again. I can afford this trip on the assumption that as soon as I get back I will immediately resume working part-time, and that I will have a steady stream of freelance projects to fill the extra days. So I've spent the last week sending out feelers via email for work and fretting as quietly as possible that my carioca friend hasn't been in touch for a few days.

It's all going to be OK. Tudo vai dar certo. I just have nothing left to do between now and packing, except work, and wish I was there already, and this is what I do. I worry.  Which is probably why I'm going back to Brazil of all places. Something about that place made me stop worrying about every inane little thing. I'm sure it'll all melt away once I step off the plane.

I just have two more weeks to survive still, between here and that point of no more worrying...

Capoeira

Here we are a month out, and silly me, I was worried I'd have nothing to write about before I actually stepped onto the plane...but, fortunately, that was before I remembered that I had purchased a Groupon deal for five capoeira classes, about a month or so ago.

Yes. *That* capoeira.

Something you should probably know about me is that, even after seven years in LA, I don't "do" fitness classes. I used to enjoy yoga in college, but never picked it up again here, mostly due to a fear of---at six feet tall and a size 8---being the "fat" clumsy chick in an LA yoga studio full of women whose profession is to look awesome. My profession is to sit on my ass for eight hours and draw, so not much besides my right wrist is really doing anything. 

I do run fairly consistently, and even finished my first half-marathon in November of last year. I went to a Krav Maga class with my roommate once and enjoyed the class (apparently, hitting things really hard comes naturally to me), but not so much the pushy salesmanship that followed. So, I decided that fitness classes were not for me. I know there are benefits to having a structured class with a trained professional checking your form, and coaching you, and motivating you past that point where your muscles say "um...no". But I'm usually broke, I'm usually slightly overweight, and I just do not belong in LA gyms or fitness classes. 

But capoeira was different, because, you know...Brazil!

It was an impulsive purchase, based on a recommendation from my Portuguese tutor that I might like it. I procrastinated on going to my first class, mostly due to a running injury after the half-marathon that took weeks to properly rest and heal. Then it was the holidays, and the first week back at work, and I put it off a little more. But then I realized that I have exactly a month left before I am going to stretch my little Brazilian biquini to within an inch of its life. Maybe adding a different workout to my weekly routine won't hurt, and, hey, I did pay for it already.

I woke up early yesterday, slammed into some yoga pants and headed on down to Capoeira Brasil for what turned out to be a fantastic way to start a weekend. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it, and that I didn't even injure myself (apparently they don't let you kick at each other on the first day...boa idéia). All of the instructors were super friendly and encouraging, and as badly as I was butchering the moves, there was a very deliberate, energetic rhythm to the whole thing that I liked. I liked hearing people practicing music in the studio while we were training. I can see myself keeping up with it after the trip, if budget allows. 

Of course, I am hurting all over today, and I think if I tried to practice my ginga again right now I'd topple right over. So, we can add capoeira to my ever-expanding list of Brazilian things which are so much fun, but always come back to bite you in the ass the next day. Just like cachaça, and carioca men.  

O Começo

With 2011 behind us, as I recover from a week of jet lag and NyQuil-induced haze, I begin to write about my next big adventure...my upcoming return to Rio de Janeiro in February. After almost two years of longing for the Marvelous City, of boring all my friends to tears by rambling without end about how wonderful those eight days were, of making crazy plans and then realizing exactly how crazy they were, the ticket is booked, and I'm going back.

Once I had clicked "purchase", and let out the breath I'd been holding, I began thinking about starting a blog about this next, longer trip---partly due to the seeming lack of blogs written by Americanas who either desire to live in Brazil or are already living there for any reason other than a boyfriend or husband (if the blogosphere is to be believed, I am the only gringa who ever traveled to Brazil and came back unattached). Partly also, to better record the experience this time around. Rather than an eight-day-long vacation spent in a hotel a few blocks from the beach, with security guards and English-speaking concierges, this upcoming visit will be more an attempt to immerse myself in the day-to-day life in Rio de Janeiro (as well as São Paulo and Florianópolis). While I wouldn't say I was necessarily shielded from the "real" Rio during my first visit, there were a lot of things I never saw or had to deal with. I was indeed a tourist, an outsider, albeit a welcome one, and I had my guide with me nearly at all times, translating and helping me cross streets and (despite my protests that I at least knew how to read a menu) ordering all my food for me.

(OK. So maybe there WAS a guy. Moving on!)

When I returned to LA, I had fallen so in love with Rio that all I could think about was going back. I immediately resumed my Portuguese lessons and threw myself into the language. I dragged my poor friends with me to screenings of Brazilian movies, to Brazilian restaurants, to Brazilian festivals, trying to "matar a saudade". It didn't work. Finally, inspired by a friend who had quit her job to get her ESL/TESOL certification and moved to Seoul to teach English, I decided that I was going to save every penny and get my own certificate and move to Brazil, cat in tow, and live there for at least a year.   It seemed to make more sense than spending all my vacation days and nearly all my money going back over and over, just to come back to a life and a job in LA I didn't feel completely happy with.

It took long enough but eventually I took a step back from that plan and thought, "Wow, that's crazy. I was there for eight days. What was I thinking?" As I slowly began backing away from the ledge, I realized that the two years I'd spent saving to move abroad had left me with what would probably be enough money to go for a longer trip, and then to either come back to LA to actually change my life here, instead of running away from it altogether, or to really make the move to Brazil after all, if I still could not stand to be away.

Say I got cold feet, or whatever you like. I delayed signing up for the Oxford English Seminar ESL course three times and made up a new reason every time. But in less than thirty minutes I searched for and booked my flight to Rio de Janeiro for a month, hesitating only to walk to the other room to double-check with my roommate that the dates I'd chosen would work for her. It felt scary, but right. 

So, a little more than a month out, here I am. I have a few intense weeks of doubled-up Portuguese lessons between now and then. I have to call my bank, and see about changing my cell phone plan for a month. I've joined the ranks of all the resolution-makers at the gym, trying to get my chubby gringa butt back into that quarter-yard of brightly colored fabric that makes up my Brazilian biquini. I have to stock up on sunscreen at some point. Suitcases sit in the hallway, empty but waiting to be packed. Emails are being written back and forth, making housing arrangements entirely in my second language (go me!). It's happening, and fast, and before I know it I will be back in Rio, and I will have no idea what I've gotten myself into. 

But it will all be worth it.

I'll post a bit in the weeks leading up...a few photos from the first trip, and interesting things along my way to preparing to leave my real life behind for a month, in a state that I can return to. And then once I get there...this will be the place for all my new pictures, stories, experiences, and sketches. Stay tuned. Vai ser interessante!