The Frantic Rush To The Cristo

Today's delightfully enticing topics: My visit to the Cristo, and everything right up until my World Cup experience. Also, my tearful last day's in Rio (in hindsight I wish we would have stayed there a couple days longer).


FRIDAY JUNE 27TH, 2014
This is typically how the first night in a new city goes down - Dom and Jenny style - land, explore, explore some more, stay out all night, sleep 4 hours, and repeat. Today was not one of those days. Maybe we can hastily blame it on old age, and our previous excursions taking a toll on our bodies, but regardless we ended up waking up at 9am famished from the previous nights shenanigans. We knew we could make it just in time for the buffet breakfast at our hotel, so I threw on my Italia soccer shirt and left my Rolling Stones bright red tongue PJ's pants on. Jenny had a very similar lazy adolescent outfit on. We took the elevator downstairs to the dining area, stepped out of the elevator, saw all the people eating breakfast (who were fresh, put together, and ready for the day), and we immediately did a clockwise pivot and got back into the mini elevator. We were not expecting that at all. We eventually put ourselves together to decently present ourselves to the hotel public, and we were on to the next challenge: finding a store that had some sort of snacks with substance and water...because our stomachs were not in the best condition.

WONDERFUL. Day 2 and we were already sick. Jenny had already acquired some illness (that plagued us in Ibiza on Day 11)...but seriously, day 2? We must be getting OLD. Luckily I brought a plethora of drugs, antacids, vitamins, etc. You name it, we brought it, and we could have cured a small leper village while we were at it. Below is a sampling of Dr. Pellegri and Dr. Montenegro's prescriptions.

Anyways, after breakfast in our "trying to not look hungover" outfits, and a 3 hour nap, we decided we needed water and some sustainable snacks (in our case chips, cookies, and nuts). We walked...and walked...and walked. There was no grocery store in sight, not even on the busiest road through Rio. The city was very reminiscent of the coastal city of Lisbon (and not just because everyone spoke Portuguese), but also because of the inspiring architecture and cobbled street sidewalks. Thirty minutes later we found a small grocery store (that could have been missed if we blinked), we got our liters of water (and some coca cola light) and were on our way back to Hotel Itajuba. We needed to get out and try to make it to the Cristo Redentor because the next day would be filled with adventures from the World Cup game we would be attending!

Heads pounding, sweating bullets like we had been in a sauna for hours, we traveled to the bus stop only to be turned away and told that our only shot to see this sacred statue was the next day. We internally panicked, as the next day was our last day in Rio, as well as the World Cup match we would be attending. I started to dry heave. I NEEDED TO SEE THE CRISTO (and not because I am obsessed with the Leonardo DiCaprio version of "Romeo and Juliet". Bonus points if you know what I'm talking about). The woman at the bus stop told us to purchase the tickets online, so we headed back to our hotel to do just that…except when we went to pay it was all in Portuguese. We went downstairs to ask for help, and a boy named Felipe (yes, he was probably about 18) was designated to help us. We went in a little humid computer room, and we fired up their dial up computer. Wonderful. We had 17 minutes before the website timed out, and with a language barrier and Felipe pounding the keys on the keyboard like it would help that poor computer go faster, I could not help but giggle. I do not have a poker face, and he saw me and gave me a thumbs up. Felipe got us those tickets 17 minutes later, and thank goodness because we almost died of a heat stroke in that computer room. 
 
After the mental breakdown we suffered from getting those tickets, we decided to get back on that metro, and go to Ipanema beach. Since it was already sundown, we picked up a few souvenirs, and headed to a restaurant near the water.

IPANEMA METRO STOP

We ate at Bar Astor, drank our caipirinhas, and ensured that we had eaten some sort of carbohydrate to try to balance what the rest of the night might hold in store for us...

Right before we left Ipanema, Jenny spotted the most gorgeous man in a speedo playing volleyball. And guess who was the lucky one to try and get some shots of him was?!?! OOOH PICK ME! ...said no one ever. But I am a good friend and I did it, creeper status, and got a semi-decent shot. Then I died of embarrassment as I had to cross the beach and pack a little bag of sand that would come back with me to the states with me (yes, I admit I am a clepto of international sand).

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It was around 9pm, and we decided we needed to visit our friends at "Antonio's Bar" in Lapa. We were obvi locals now and I'm pretty positive they missed us, so we could not disappoint. We were supposed to meet one of Jenny's friends, but we ended up just getting our drinks and more empanadas (I literally threw up in my mouth). After a few cocktails (I could feel my teeth rotting from all the sugar), we decided that her friend wasn't going to meet up with us so we started to plan our next place of attack. I shifted my seat and heard someone say something to me. Let's be clear, Jenny and I are always on creeper watch. We watch each other, we watch our surroundings, and if we (meaning I because I'm obviously bigger and stronger) has to hurt someone we will.

We were greeted by two Americans (great). We usually try to avoid Americans at all cost, and not because we are unpatriotic, we just would rather meet and immerse ourself into different cultures. Anyways, it was not as bad as I am making it out to be. A little awkward at first, but we can usually carry our own.

As we chatted over probably the most repulsive empanada yet - some white substance with cream cheese consistency, topped with a large shrimp, things got a little heated. My friend Jenny, and one of the guys Tim (yes he gave me permission to use his real name), work at companies in opposition of whatever moral spectrum exists in their industry. Let's just say I would have rather have gone to the bar and taken shots of tequila with scorpions in them, followed by more of those shrimp empanadas, than sit through that conversation.

Both parties agreed to disagree. THANK THE LORD BABY JESUS. We continued to have caipirinhas and beer and everything was dandy, as we found out one (Sam) lived in Iowa, and the other (Tim) lived in Hawaii. Everything was great, until Jenny excused herself to go to the restroom. I'm pretty sure I saw the "come to the bathroom with me now" in her eyes, but I really didn't have to go. It was then that I felt emotionally violated.

It became, "Let's get to know Dominique", but it turned into "50 Uncomfortable Questions." My internal nightmare. Let's be frank: I can handle what life throws at me, and although my Scorpio side makes me standoffish, I can roll with the punches and deal with almost any situation. I just have never (upon meeting someone an hour before) been asked so many personal questions in my life. Tim managed to pop that cherry. I'm sure alcohol played an important part in the, "When was your last relationship?", "Ok, so do you just have one night stands all the time?", "What turns you on?" I literally felt like I was sitting in a TSA Security office with bags of cocaine smuggled in one of my internal cavities. I was just lucky to have had a few beverages to take the edge off, finish that convo, and make sure we got to the next fine establishment seamlessly.

All four of us walked through Lapa, noticing that there were less tourists were around, and soon
enough only Portuguese was spoken. We found a small bar, pulled up a plastic table to the sidewalk, and ordered our caipirinhas. While we sat there, we suddenly heard a chanting crowd coming our way. I have witnessed my fair share of protests/riots (ironically a soccer riot in Paris), so of course I wanted to see what exactly was going on. I mean who wouldn't??  I sympathized with the Brazilians and their poverty and struggling economy, while millions of dollars were put into stadiums that would probably never be used again. It was at that moment that I realized I was the enemy because I did purchase tickets. I stepped aside, picked up my caipirinha, and stood with respect as they marched by.

I instantly popped out of my seat to witness what exactly was making this crowd so passionate…a banner that simply said, “FIFA GO HOME”. But this crowd was not simple. Firecrackers were being thrown while people chanted. Part of my stomach dropped (I envisioned my parents saying, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"), but part of me wanted to join them.

FOOTAGE FROM THE FIFA RIOT IN LAPA

Suddenly we were learning how to line dance (I gave up and decided to make other
friends), a Mexican man was singing the French song, "Dominique" to me
sporadically throughout the night, and we met some guys from Orange County that
had been in Brazil the whole month going to World Cup games.

We decided to walk home around 1am (we had a big day ahead of us), and the boys decided to walk us home (I made sure to show them the metro stop they would be taking after they dropped us off). We approached the neighborhood of our hotel (which I must say was centrally located), and we noticed that there was some sort of "Block Party" going on. I REALLY did not want to go, I was so tired and was set on getting into my pajama's and passing out but I was persuaded to go for just a little bit. And I'm glad I did.  The people we met on that street and the interactions that we had were amazing, inspiring, and a once in a lifetime experience.  

DANCING ON THE STREETS IN RIO

SATURDAY JUNE 28TH, 2014

Today was the day!!!!! I had been waiting TWO LONG YEARS for this day in my life. That is how long I had been planning this trip....but we did not get to sleep in like we planned.

Never go see the Cristo hungover. NEVER. I knew that I would see it no matter what condition I would be in (because of my slight obsession), but it was utter and complete torture. It was about 30 minutes of nauseating fun...driving through sharp turns of the narrowest road surrounding the Corcovado Mountain, just to reach the 98ft. statue. We then decided to climb the stairs to the Cristo, and we saw this...

I died inside. My Catholic heart was so full at that very moment that I almost forgot about how much I wanted to throw up over the railing. He was just so beautiful, and more than everything I had imagined. We took in every beautiful site from the top of that mountain, got our selfies, and jumped back into that treacherous bus because we were World Cup bound in just a few short hours!

 
This entry already has a ton of information, so I will be posting the World Cup experience in the next one! :)