Arrival

September 7, 2009, 10:11 a.m.
Tom Jobim International Airport, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Exhausted from less than three hours of sleep and bad inflight movies, I emerged from the plane, only to find myself in another line waiting to pass through customs. "Ma'am, is this your computer? Will this computer be returning with you to the United States? Did you bring any other electronics with you?" the custom's officer queried, as it is his job to be nosey, but not really caring. "Oh, you're going to study here and you speak Portuguese?" surprised, as if it was some type of novelty- an American that speaks another language besides English. Amazing.

After customs, one gets bombarded with taxi agents trying to get you an outrageously overpriced taxi ride, most likely if you are a "gringo," to the Zona Sul area. If this happens, sometimes, you can just go outside and ask for a metered taxi. It's easy to get duped in Rio when it comes to services as a foreigner. My thoughts on that are the following: it isn't that much more money and this is their only income- I make three times what they do, so it's hardly worth fighting about. It's just not nice to feel like someone is trying to take advantage of you.

So, R$80 poorer and slight grossed out by the taxi driver's gas (stopped once to use the bathroom, claiming it was from having an acai), I arrived safely at my little apartment in Copacabana- little is not an exageration, plus the hookers and pimps on the street at night give it a fabulous added touch.

Safe and sound, as the cliche is, I relaxed.