The Girl (who wants to be) From Ipanema

Brazil. How can I begin to describe how I feel when I am in Rio, specifically Ipanema? How can I articulate that the city grabs me and makes me content just to physically be there? Well I won't even try. I only have one "follower" of this blog, so why write endlessly about the magic of Rio de Janeiro when no one is reading this?

Instead, I will recap the week long trip, and try to censor my unabashed love for the city.

This was my segunda vez (second time) in Rio. The last time I was there, I fully intended to see other parts of Brazil but never made it out of Rio. I swore this time would be different. Long story, short - it wasn't.

I already did most of the touristy things in Rio, so I was looking forward to playing some beach volleyball and hanging out on Ipanema hoping that people would mistake me for a Brazilian. (I learned that sunbathing on a Brazilian flag towel screamed tourist, but whatever. Hindsight is 20/20).

As most of you know (well only my sister reads this, so of course she knows), that I was madly deeply in love with a Brazilian last year. He broke my heart, but along the way I did learn three important things from Frederico:
1. Portuguese (or at least enough to catch him cheating on me)
2. How to buy a bathing suit that fits, and
3. The basics of beach volleyball

Even though I was a beginner, I got hooked on beach volleyball. I would sometimes feel a yearning to play. Since I live in Denver, beach volleyball hasn't been the easiest sport to pursue without, you know, beaches. I figured spending a few days in Rio was the perfect opportunity to improve my beach volleyball skills.

I did research online and could not find any beach volleyball instruction on Ipanema. I was pretty disappointed, but was still ecstatic to just be back in Rio. I checked into my favorite hostel, Ipanema Beach House, and felt a sense of belonging. I felt that everything would work out and I would have an amazing trip, even if there would be no beach volleyball.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into my dorm room and a tall bronzed man stood in front of me holding a volleyball. We started chatting and Fabricio turned out to be an assistant volleyball coach for the Georgia National woman's volleyball team. Which is full of Brazilians with Georgian passports. They train on Ipanema, so he had a long-term agreement at the hostel because of it's location. As luck would have it, the girls were in Europe on a tournament circuit. After a few beers, Fabricio promised to give me some "private lessons." And he did. He took me out to the beach and it was like a dream come true...free volleyball instruction from a hot Brazilian god.

Things were going great: we did rounds of bumps, sets, spikes, and smooches for several days. One evening, I made plans with a friend-of-a-friend who lives in Copacabana. Adriana and I got along great, so much that I kind of forgot that Fabricio was at the hostel waiting for me. Well, maybe I didnt forget, but as we were leaving the bar we ran into a group of guys training Brazilian Jui Jitsu and I couldnt exactly leave without sharing my fighter stories and demonstrating some of my "moves." Turns out Fabricio got impatient and went out only to find me sucker punching and roundhouse kicking these guys outside of the bar. He got really mad at me, and we ended up fighting that I did not have to report to him. I was upset, but only because he left in a huff saying, "No more volleyball for you."

Luckily I found a proper instructor on Ipanema and the rest is history. I spent my mornings training and afternoons playing games.

My last morning in Rio, I woke up early to squeeze in a 7am lesson before my flight. When the lesson was over, I walked down to the shoreline and spent a few minutes alone on the beach feeling quite sad about leaving. The sun was just beginning to get brighter, and so did my mood. I realized that there was no need to be sad, because I know I will be back.