I am tired.
My heart is true.
- Dave Eggers
Third world travel can be strange. There is almost no other time in life with manic ups and downs, euphoric highs, and heartbreaking lows so closely squeezed in together. Like sardines in a can the good times and the bad seem to line up right next to each other with very little room for neutral emotions or insignificant downtime.
Injuries, food poisoning, accidents, and heartache go hand in hand with the joy of discovering new things, places, people, & music. Sadness and joy, like fraternal twins, wear different faces but are never too far from each other and are born from the same parents, hope & expectation. (My brother once said "When you travel, expectation is a bitch.")
But what’s felt often fades with time while what’s done (what happens) lasts forever. One of the greatest quotes I’ve heard is from my friend Marty. We were looking over some pictures from a Vegas trip and he said: “You know that was a great trip … even when we thought we weren’t having fun we really were.” And that is so true. I just spent 24 hours with food poisoning (more on that shortly) fading in and out of delirium, puking, and painting the bowl. But I’m pretty sure in 6 months I’d give my left nut to be back in Florianopolis taking turns puking and laughing with Matt. Any time one of us is playing poorly we just remind each other, “Hey, your worst day at the beach is better than your best day at the office.”
And so it is, fair reader, that the last few days have been a whirlwind of ups and downs. It took me 3 attempts in 2 days just to type these first few paragraphs. If I was to heavily plagiarize “Gym Class Heroes” and write a poem about what my life’s been like lately (or … let’s be honest … what I WISH my life was like) it would be something like this:
Cheezy Poem
P.S. That’s just a hacked poem so please don’t take every verse literally. I think you all know the portions that do and don’t apply
OK enough with reflection. Let’s get back to facts and events. I would also like to make 2 things perfectly clear before I go on:
1) I will roast and make a lot of jokes at my friends’ expense but It’s all in good fun and ball busting. I wouldn’t travel across the world with ANYONE who I didn’t have 100% faith, respect, and love for. I was told that some of the stuff I wrote in the last blog was offensive to some so I want to publicly apologize right now.
2) Despite what you are about to read, we are all 4, at this moment, in perfect health and spirits so please don’t be concerned.
Moving on …. When we last left our heroes, they were sitting in a hotel room in Rio doing shots while the sexy one was wrapping up his blog. Once the fellas were ready we took a cab to Lapa, the historical district in Rio. This area was very poor and extra sketchy late at night. There was one lively alley where some folks were selling their art and booze. We hung out there for a while, checking out art and chatting with the locals. Matt seems to be a magnet for drunk people with bad breath who think he understands what they’re saying. Paul and Matt got their portrait done together, eternally linking their souls in a bad replica of two guys looking like a young Kirk Russell and that cheese dick from “The fast and the furious”.
Afterwards we accidentally ended up at a gay bar where Kelly seemed to finally smile for the first time and Matt showed everyone what a skilled meat gazer he truly is. Totally kidding. But Paul really did have his picture taken with a tranny. It was worth the laughs.
Random Side Note: Paul's facebook status the next day read as follows … “Paul is putting on some CockBlock SPF 45 for extra protection.” He claims he didn’t do it. The culprit remains at large.
Anyhomo, the next day was very laid back. We spent the whole day lounging at the beach. Matt and I found a huge sand dune created by the digging of a waterway between Ipanema beach and the lagoon behind it. We did some sprint drills up the dune. It was awesome. Then some local kids tried to race us and of course we all know who won. To make up for coming in 2nd, Matt did a front flip off the top of the dunes and kids got a kick out of it. (FYI, Matt’s knee has been jacked this whole trip). We also did some peppering and drills and threw the football around with Kelly. Paul was photographed passed out next to Eric Schaeffer’s book “I can’t believe I’m still single”. It’s a hilarious photo. (Editors Note: Paul claims that he can “totally” believe why he’s single”)
Anyhorny, as the sun was setting we figured it was time to GTF outa dodge. We went back to the hotel, called GOL airlines and booked some tickets to Flo for 10:40 a.m. the next day. The plan was to figure out where we’re staying once we got there. Paul suggested trying to find a house so I emailed a guy I had corresponded with a few weeks earlier. Luckily he replied back that the had a condo available for us. VERY lucky. Paul also suggested that we reserve a car so we hooked that up as well. Once it looked like everything was settled we decided to take a brief stroll to Copa Cabana beach (home to one of my heroes, Jose Loyola) and go to bed early since we had the morning flight. Big mistake. We stopped to eat at a place that looked fairly respectable but the food was atrocious. It’s been almost 48 hours since that moment and I’m gagging recalling the event. Kelly was on 2 painkillers and very funny. Also, Matt attracted more drunk people with bad breath who thought he understood them. The boy’s a hobo magnet. Kinda like how Kelly is a chick magnet. Or how Paul’s a tranny magnet.
That night was hell. I had to stay up late to finalize all the details for our house and car. Meanwhile, Matt was so sick that he turned off the AC and put on his fleece while he prayed to the porcelain gods every few minutes and I was sweating my ass off. Trying to coordinate everything at 3:00 am with food poisoning and having to get up at 7:00 am was not fun. I never really told the guys how much that sucked but it did. The only upside was that they were all very appreciative and thankful when we arrived and that made it all worthwhile.
We somehow manage to get our act together in the morning and pack, check out, jump in a cab, and go to the airport. Matt was VERY VERY sick. I was not as bad but also felt pretty shitty. Paul and Kelly seemed OK. We still kept our gallows humor about us and made it through the place although Matt would just fall asleep everywhere we stopped and he constantly needed a plastic bag nearby to vomit in. I carried his stuff and woke him up every time we needed to move.
Important Side Note: Despite how well and how long I’ve known Matt, I am absolutely blown away but the way he can quietly take his pain, suffer through his daemons, and not utter the slightest complain. If I was a girl, I think I’d find this one of the most attractive qualities in a man.
Kelly has got to be the most flexible and non-judgemental guy I’ve been around. He is low maintenance and has a great sense of humor. I can definitely get deep with him and his concise insights always impress and entertain me. Sometimes I feel like I’m harsh with him but it’s the brotherly crassness that’s bread from comfort, trust, and familiarity.
Also, as much as I like to bust his balls, Paul’s a great road dog. He is the eternal optimist and enthusiastic traveler. He’s very good at thinking things through 3 or 4 steps ahead and predicting consequences other wouldn’t think of until it’s too late. I’ve been to more places with him than anyone else and there’s a good reason for that. I’m not sure what that reason is but I’ll let you know when I figure it out.
Once we land in Flo we meet our car guy at the airport and take off in our Volkswagen GOL. We meet Reno who is sort of a semi-concierge. He’s a former pro surfer who lives in one of the condos here and helps the visitors with everything from car & motorcycle rentals, to cell phones, guides, translators, reservations, and everything else. We quickly bond since he’s about our age and temperament and even make plans to go out in a couple of nights. He’s a first class dude and we’re lucky to have him on our side.
Our day of arrival is a long and painful blur. Once we check in we take turns sleeping, puking, shitting, etc. I faded in and out of sleep and slept for over 12 hours. Paul said it was 16 but I have no idea when I fell asleep or when I woke up.
Funny Dialogue
ARDI: I feel bad. I had to take a Valium last night to fall asleep. I don’t like taking stuff like that.”
PAUL: I know. I wanted to take a drooler (sleeping pill) but I kept falling asleep before I could take it.
At this point (before the long sleep) my mind is cannibalizing itself. On top of the illness and sleep deprivation I’m also spinning into a surreal depression since I can see my long awaited vacation wasting away and going nowhere. I’m wondering if it’s all happening because of bad luck or have I done something, or worse, become someone, to deserve this. (All that went away the next morning).
I’m dreaming. Walking through a never ending airport terminal. It's the outdoor kind in the tradition of Thai Islands. No matter how fast I walk everyone is passing me and I know I'm going to miss my flight. Where are my bags? I see Paul and Kelly carrying a suitcase with Matt in it. When I open the suitcase all the way I see that it’s only the top of Matt’s head (scalp) and the rest of him is not there. I dig through the bag frantically trying to find the rest of him and piece him together. Kelly cries. Paul laughs. I wake up.
It’s 8:00 am. Everyone’s asleep. Even though I feel groggy and weak from having little more than a bowl of fruit for the past 24 hours I decide to go for a run on the beach in hopes of jumpstarting myself. The beach is empty. I run to the end but gas out quickly and walk back physically and emotionally drained. On the way back I see a yellow flag on a pole high above the beach. It instantly reminds me of my childhood on the beaches of the Caspian Sea where I spent the summers at my grandparents villa. They had Green, Red, and Black flags to indicate the danger levels at the beach for swimmers. I suddenly flash back to a picture of a 5 year old me on a horse with my grandfather holding the harness. The last time I saw him was when he came to Houston my senior year in High School. He got to watch me play a hell of a football game against our rival high school and although he didn’t understand the game much he loved to see me run and hear my name called on the PA each time the crowd roared. I am eternally grateful to god for giving him that experience. A few weeks later when I was leaving on a ski trip to New Mexico he cried when we said goodbye. I had never seen this mountain of a man, this rock of integrity shed a tear but he did that day. Later, my mom told me it was because he knew he would never see me again. He was right.
Even though the beach is empty I hide behind an old lifeguard shack so no one can see me cry. I’m there for a while.
When I get back I fix myself a protein shake, take a shower, and fall back asleep. I wake up to the sound of Matt washing dishes. We decide to rent some motorcycles and visit the south side of the island where there is a secret beach only accessible via a 1 hour hike. Kelly drives Matt and I to the bike rental place.
I have an embarrassing confession to make. I never learned how to ride a manual transmission motorcycle. I mean I’ve rode mopeds and scooters before and even a manual moped but never a full on true blue motorcycle. The one time I tried to learn was in the back of Ehben’s mom’s property where I flew into his mom’s flowerpots and damaged the bike and myself. I figured I’d need to learn on a beach or something so I can’t mess anything up. No such luck today. Matt teaches me the fundamentals verbally and I listen intently. The rental place is on a busy street and I feel like I need to look like I know what I’m doing. Basically need to pull away from this place nice and smooth and blend right into the traffic. I trust Matt with my life so I listen to him and it all goes smoothly. They did however, give us the bikes with no gas so we run out of gas 40 yards from the place and Matt has to push his bike back to get a little bit gas so he can make it to the gas station. One of the bikes has a flawed starter but it works so we’re off.
Paul and Kelly drive to the beach while Matt and I follow/lead in our bikes. I quickly get a hang of things just like Matt promised. I finally feel like vacation has begun. Usually, it’s being submerged in the ocean that let’s me know I’m finally “there” but this time, for some reason, it's riding the bikes with Matt and following the boys in the GOL.
We stop for some photos and pick up a hitchhiker with his little daughter. He happens to be going to the same little fishing village where the trailhead to the secret beach starts and he shows us the way.
It was a great hike. In the tradition of all great tropical hikes. You get coated in a nice warm layer of sweat and your joints don’t hurt at all. It rained on us but it was like a warm shower. I liked it. Matt carried my back pack with everyone’s gear to spare my fucked up spine even though he has a fucked up knee himself. How can you not love a guy like that? Once we get to the beach we realize it’s getting dark. Also, Paul has flip-flops on and he’s concerned about trying to make it back in the dark. We try to get a boat to take us back but the last boat is leaving and it’s full. Soooooo we tough it out back to our cars and head home. Kelly rides Matt’s bike back. We all get separated and pretty much get home on our own but within a few minutes of each other.
I take a nice shower and chat with Reno about tonight and tomorrow night. The boys are now at the internet café. I’m home alone typing this since the Portuguese key boards are impossible to use. It would probably take me 3 days to type this. I’m going to save it and upload it later since there’s no internet connectivity here.
We’re finally going to go out tonight to celebrate our health and maybe throw it all away, again. I hear the VW GOL pulling in the driveway. Chao.
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