I promise this won’t be an emotional post. I promise this won’t be an emotional post. I promise…

Tomorrow, I’m leaving on a jet plane, going back to the United States for Christmas to see all the wonderful people I left six months ago. So I’m kicking back into traveling mode, packing (god I have way too much luggage) and playing my traveling music (“Ramble On” by Zeppelin, because it’s legendary, and “Us” by Regina Spektor, mostly because Deivid played it to distraction when we left for our trek, and now my brain associates it with traveling). Li-i-i-i-i-i-ving in a, den of thieves!

Anyway, I’m leaving way too many incredible experiences and friends behind to make it into a post. So instead, I think I’ll just chill (with Brazilians, of all people – and I thought I had escaped Portuguese…) and put myself in a firm state of denial until the actual flight leaves. But really, I’m extremely glad to be going back. Christmas time and family and friends and, well, you get the idea.

On a technical note, I will of course keep blogging right on through my time back home. I have plans after to leave for Kolkata, India, to volunteer with the Mother Theresa Center and learn Bengali, but this is a far-off and uncertain future. Whatever the future may be, it will be blogged about.

Instead, I’ll leave South America with a quavering goodbye, a firm hug, a South-American kiss on the cheek (one in Peru, one in São Paulo, two in Rio, and absurdly three in Arica, Chile), and a video of Spektor’s “Us.” Gracias, Deivid.

JUSTIN WHO WILL NOT BE CLINGING TO THE WALLS AS THE HOSTAL STAFF DRAGS HIM OUT THE DOOR OUT.

So I thought I’d just take a moment to post some pictures of Rio de Janeiro (a place I will never be able to pronounce properly in Portuguese) taken during my several days over there.

I’ll start with this one, the picture that always reminds me of South Pacific (Bali Hai?). This was what I woke up to when staying in an area called Recreio about an hour outside the city proper. That was the “Surf ‘n’ Stay,” my time among the turtles (to this day no one has said RIGHTEOUS to me yet).

Like South Pacific, but without the shirtless sailors.

That picture was taken after a night on no sleep (hammocks suck for actually trying to sleep) when I decided that it was dawn already, and I might as well take a walk along the beach. I sprinted Usain-Bolt-style back to grab my camera when I saw this.

Then, I suppose I should probably post the two contrasting pictures – the same region (Recreio) during the dawn and then during the day. Here are the very first rays of dawn:

Great way to start the day, I must say.

And here is a Recreio beach during the day, check it out:

You hear stories of Brazilians going abroad to Central-American beaches and I'm just going... why?!

The thing about Recreio is that it’s far enough removed from the main city of Rio to be truly unbelievably beautiful and mostly uncrowded. And, as the turtles informed me, perfect for surfing. (For the record, these surfers were unbelievable. The things they could do on those boards… whoah… respect…).

But as far as the center of Rio goes, I’m just going to go right ahead and say this * suppresses a shudder* Rio’s main beaches are stunningly beautiful, but overestimated. By this, I mean that they are disgustingly crowded with gringos that have no business wearing those speedos. Those beaches would be the world famous Ipanema and Copacabana, which I found a tad overrated (but not during the night, the parties on the beach at night are legendary – go to Lapa, you’ll see what I mean, music and dancing and transvestites that legitimately never stops).

But the area in which I ended up staying in the end was business/residential/more-down-to-earth Botafogo, near the famous mountain view from Pão de Açúcar (you take a cable car up to the top and take pictures, which I sadly didn’t do). Here’s the Pão de Açúcar mountain from the ground level:

The woman you see at the bottom of the picture is feeding stray cats. Gotta love her for it.

And then, of course, I had to snap a classic shot of Rio de Janeiro at night. If you squint, you can just make out Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer) just above the city. It’s the white thing that looks like Jesus.

Suddenly the Jesus Christ Superstar tracks are running through my head and I can't make them stop.

And then, finally, to wrap things up, I have to post a Tepig image. This is the Tepig from Ipanema (heheheh…). I’m okay with being the only one who gets my own jokes.

This was taken after it had rained and all the people ran away. Love when that happens. Hate people.

Now I’m back in São Paulo, and facing the prospect of going home in *glances at calendar and gulps* five days.

Now’s the time to start the reflective posts on what I’ve learned and how I’ve changed as a person (hint: I’ve learned nothing and have changed for the worse – but spoilers).

BEACH BUM JUSTIN OUT.

“My mother has slept in a hammock for the past 20 years,” the guy from Fortaleza who runs this “Surf ‘n’ Stay” told me. “You know how to sleep in a hammock, right?”

I had to admit that, no, no I didn’t know how to sleep in a hammock.

I still don’t.

The first thing you have to understand about hammocks was reasonably explained to me. You can’t sleep in a hammock like you sit in a hammock, that is, in a V-form, feet and head up. You have to lie across the hammock so that your body is reasonably flat, otherwise you’ll hurt your back. This part I was okay on.

What they don’t tell you about hammocks is that when you move even your head in your sleep, the whole hammock formation shifts. I move my head all the time. In fact, I’ve realized about myself that I actually don’t ever stop moving during my sleep, evidenced by the fact that twice during the night I ended up moving so wildly that I fell face-first onto concrete. Not a pleasant way to wake up.

But that’s the easy part, that’s after you actually get to sleep. The hard part is getting to sleep in the first place. Here, the conditions alternate between two options: (1) cold, (2) mosquitoes. Because it was raining during the night at different times, at some points the rain would drive away the mosquitoes and I would freeze in peace. At other times, the rain would stop and the mosquitoes would come back (this hammock is outside, there is a roof over it, but only in the lightest sense of the word).

In different circumstances, I might have been able just to grin and bear the mosquito bites, but the realization hit me during the night that I have never actually gotten the Yellow Fever vaccination and I have no interest in dying at the hands of a mosquito. That’s just embarrassing.

Fortunately, for both of the conditions, I had an elegant solution. It’s the greatest investment a traveler can make in his/her entire life, perfect for bus rides, sleeping in uncomfortable conditions, and is must-have style for basically anyone.

That is, of course, the poncho. The noble, flawless poncho. The poncho that may draw stares when I take it out in a public place that is not Peru, but I don’t care. That’s jealousy you see on their faces.

This is me standing in front of a Paucartambo sunrise. Yes, I'm wearing a poncho.

I know I’ve posted the picture on the left before, but it just seemed appropriate to portray my happiness with this particular item. When in doubt during travel: trust the poncho.

I should here mention that if you do choose to make the leap and wear a poncho out in public, you are not alone. I’ve worn this poncho on buses throughout South America, on airplanes, sleeping in airports, in the major cities of Lima and São Paulo, and, on one occasion, while attending a performance of the Russian National Ballet (I’m not even remotely kidding about that last one).

So yes. Faced with a hammock? Pull a poncho over your head to keep out the cold and the mosquitoes.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is officially the wisest piece of advice I have ever given in my entire life.

BEPONCHOED JUSTIN OUT.