Vamos a Brasil!: 32 hours of airport fun

My long-long-long awaited odyssey to Brazil began on the full moon Monday night when my generous friend Lorenzo picked me up in his SUV limo and drove me to SFO. Best birthday present ever.  As we passed by South San Francisco and I glimpsed the first airport signs, I began to shutter.  What?  Was this really happening?  This was the journey to South America, that I've dreamed of for 5 years! Each August for 5 years, my stomach would clench as I prepared my classroom for the arrival of hundreds of the cranky high school students I so loved.  But not this year!  My trip was really happening and it felt bitterSWEET.  30% bitter:  leaving my beloved Oakland and my friends,  family, and boo. But oh my god I was going to Brazil for 4 months!!!!!  I began to beam, a facial expression that stuck with me for at least 60% of my 32 hours of travel.



Having picked the cheapest ticket possible, my journey to Rio involved 3 Avianca flights.  The first flight was a 6 hour redeye to San Salvador.  Ugh.  Completely packed, with cranky flight attendants, crying babies galore, and a cat in a cage that meowed for 6 hours straight.   Lucky for me, I didn't have to hear any of that other than when I hit the bathroom, since I came prepared! After I picked at my vegetarian "meal",  a plastic tray of steamed mushrooms, asparagus, and some oily beige blob that I think was intended to be a sweet potato fritter, I popped in my yoga nidra soundtrack and dozed off for 2 hours before they woke us up for breakfast.    I got another fritter. But who cared?! I was going to Brazil!

#airportzumba

I arrived at 7am at the San Salvador Airport.  Their international "terminal" is a 1/2 mile strip of duty free shops, overpriced coffee shops, and bars selling 6$ pupusas.  What was I going to do here until 3pm?  So much.  I've never understood why other people don't love airport layovers?!  It's an excuse to engage in guilty pleasures I never allow myself on the mainland, like frappucinos and reading People Magazine.  Since I became a yoga and zumba teacher, I also always make sure to do some #airportyoga and #airportzumba to pass the time and stay perky.  I scoured the halls for a corner where I would be minimally noticed at, and found one, near some bathrooms behind a Subway.  For an hour I saluted the sun over the tarmac and boogied to a melange of samba, merengue and regaetton songs.  Eventually I retired once I caught a cluster of Central-American grandpas in straw hats pointing in my direction.


I boarded a way more luxurious flight to Bogota, Colombia, where I finally got my own TV screen. I watched an EXCELLENT film called "A United Kingdom" about a Botswanan President Seretse Khama who married a white British woman.  The film, in addition to being a gorgeous love story, poignantly illustrates the intersectionality of racism and capitalism of British Colonialism.  Ugh.  I clenched my fist, I cried, but the scenes of Mama Africa made me seriously want to venture over there this Spring!

Acai and coconut! 

A 4 hour layover in Bogota, followed by another red-eye, then finally I arrived in Brazil!  Hooray!  I felt like I had arrived home at last.   I ate my first Pao de Queijo at the airport, then took the bus into the city where I met Gilcelia, my Air Bnb host.  We took a taxi up the hill to the pacified favela (very safe, don't freak out Mom!) where I am currently writing this blog.  I have my own suite with a kitchen, bathroom, an ocean view, for only 11$ a night.  I took a midday nap then spent the afternoon wandering along the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema.  On the way back, I had my two favorite beach rituals simultaneously: Acai and agua de coco.  Yum!  This time I realized that by scooping out the coconut meat and mixing it into the acai you arrive something unimaginably delicious.  God I love this country!

Love to all!

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A semi-poetic summary of above

Which ray of sun is mine this morning?
Each of my limbs is flying in a different direction
and all of the flight attendants are busy serving Sprite and ginger ale.
If I had the window-seat, or even the middle seat,
I would still weave around white cobblestones in the sky,
because my road stretches forward
regardless of whether I close my eyes,
or I drown out the neighbor's wails with ommms,
or pull off my mask and scream and scream and scream.
But silence is my birth right today,
in this flying cage,
where I am still queen of my runway
counting mushrooms (12) and memories in the sky.