Brazil: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Only by “Caged Bird” I mean “Californian Surfer” and by “Sings” I mean “Smokes Pot.”

Also, I’m rather surprised that more gay people are not pot-smoking surfers, seeing as how we tend to be a rather hedonistic people.

So, here I’d like to talk a little about Brazil’s beaches, simply because the beach in Rio merits a blog post all on its own.

My last day in Rio Hannah and I decided to go to the beach. The two days before Sunday the weather was particularly crappy (crappy for Rio, which means cloudy and a little bit chilly, just chilly enough to most definitely guarantee you won’t be tanning that day), so our hopes were a bit dashed on Sunday. We didn’t know what to expect. But we took a leap of faith and went the entire two blocks down to the beach anyways. Oh, and I bought a dulce de leche filled churro (which is pronounced hilariously in Portuguese: shoe-who/shoo-hoo) on the way.

Hannah and I being cute

Not only was the day absolutely fantastic, but the waves were a thing of cinematic picturesque-ty. You just saw them well up and then BAM! Crash! And of the most clear, transparent light-blue color. My gay self just went all giddy with excitement. Which, however, was further exacerbated by the fact that the gay section of the beach also happened to be particularly full that day. And by, full, I mean FULL. FULL OF GORGEOUS, GREEK GOD-LIKE-BODIED BRAZILIAN MEN. I almost lost it. Oh, no, wait, I DID lose it. Only when I screamed, I pretended that it was as a result of the joy that I experienced from playing in the waves, which was not COMPLETELY untrue…

I’m pretty sure I saw several models on the beach that day… *sigh*…

If you look closely, the guy in the middle is smiling. He totally saw through my crazy antics of "taking a photo of Hannah (bottom right corner)."

And this was the SIMPLEST workout he could have done. There were other, more intricate bodybuilding contraptions all along the shore...

Anywho, speaking of body surfing, omgwhydon’tmorepeopledoit. You know, there are times in my life where I really, no, REALLY understand some overused phrase in literature, such as “the sickeningly sweet smell of the blossoming flowers,” which I never really understood until I went to Stanford and the bushes alongside FloMo smelled so sweet, I literally wanted to throw up. Anyways, this time around the phrase that I learned with my own body was “riding the waves.” I’ve seen people attempting to do it, some with success, and I thought to myself “oooh, I want to do that!”

So I did.

It wasn’t until 30 minutes into it with crashing, getting up, and running back into the waves flailing my arms and legs like a mad man that I finally got that ridiculous rush and amazing high of actually riding the crest of a wave. It was time just perfectly, and the water underneath me felt as if I was riding boiling water (or a geyser? Just something really bubbly), and for 5-10 seconds I could see everyone on the beach as I rode this motherfucking wave aaaaand the wave brought me under and pretty sure I now have minor trauma to my right ear.

This went on for 3 hours with varying degrees of success. So long, in fact, that Hannah ditched me and by the time I came back she had left a note saying that she was tired of waiting. I was le sad. And, also, I paid a rather high price for the amount of fun that I had.

The person who’s writing this now as we speak is in Japan sleeping on a blanket with a cold, and ear infection, and a cold sore on the roof of his mouth, the first two being attributed to having played so much in the waves, which were cold, by the way, that I couldn’t hear out my right ear and felt uneasy that night. It was not made better by the fact that I had swallowed a shit ton of salt water AND was invited to a churrasceria that night by Hannah (OF WHICH I HAVE NO REGRETS, SHUT UP).

Me NOT HAVING REGRETS of eating $50 worth of meat for which Hannah payed $42 (shutupshutupshutup!)

Final Beach Photo

And that’s how teh totally awesomezorz day ended. Oh no, wait, I went to a gay club, but it was anticlimactic and unworthy of mention.

Theee End.