Natalia, my roommate from Santiago, hosted me for the lone night I spent in the industrial capital of Brazil before I flew to Bolivia. Home to the world’s largest Japanese population outside of Japan, I prioritized the ethnic district called Liberdade. The afternoon was my usual catching a glimpse of urban culture by walking through the city center.

 

Getting There and Around

Day 73

I could tell I was sick as soon as I had breakfast. Thank you Mom for going with me to the Rio bus station with me. She watched me, baffled, as I immediately booked a bus within five minutes of departure time and ran off after a quick goodbye hug.

I wanted to throw up during the 6 hour ride ($30), but it wasn’t until I had spent an hour navigating the 14 line metro/train system involving three transfers (without asking anyone for help might I add!), and I was safely inside Natalia’s car, that it all came out.

I was a mess. A mess with a fever.

 

Day 74

Weak but feeling better, I thanked Natalia and her family for taking care of me and hoped they liked Swiss chocolate.

I walked out of the Liberdade subway station and straight into cherry blossoms and red lanterns. Maps.me guided me to the well known Lamen Aska, a hidden ramen shop with a constant pool of customers waiting to be seated.

As someone who is ultra picky about Asian food, the $5 misso lamen was exquisite for Brazil, but average on a holistic scale. I was proud of my digestive system for holding down the yummy Japanese flavors.

Kanazawa carried homemade sweets but unfortunately didn’t sell sakura motis individually. I picked a pumpkin shaped bean paste and a ball of traditional red bean paste. The little convenience stores, with so many familiar brands filling out the shelves, got so crowded with locals. Long lines and jacked up prices were not worth my time.

In the end I made the mistake of purchasing flavorless mochi at a smaller store. It was almost bitter. Two pieces later it was in the trashcan (even the pigeons scoffed at it) while a McDonald’s cone for a fraction of the price had taken its place in my hand.

Praça da Sé was the city’s historic center. I assumed I had arrived when a ginormous cathedral was looming over me. Unfortunately there were no public benches, lots of homeless people, and Natalia was not wrong when she warned that it would smell like urine. Public wifi was offered throughout the city, so I could call Mom once I found seating at a bus stop further away.

Shwarma at last. Rosas, off of Rio Branco, was owned by a Lebanese man who spoke no Portuguese. Bonded by our shared handicap, he gave me so much food for $5. The misto shwarma had both chicken and steak, and was teeming with flavors of garlic and onion. I loaded up on spicy sauce. Guarana, a Brazilian staple I decided I might as well sample on my last night in the country, was just like any other soda to me. A shot of Lebanese coffee with cardamom was much more appreciated. On my way out, the staff was celebrating the birthday of a worker with coconut cake and sparklers, so I got a hunk of that as well.

It felt great to be solo again, figuring out what was next on my own. It felt natural. Normal. Using more metros and a bus (one hour, $10 from Tiete), I reached the GRU airport, unharmed.