Travelling back home to my motherland, Brazil, has never been an easy undertaking and this occasion was no exception. But this time I had a friend with me who didn’t speak Portuguese. You know what that meant? I got to skip out on lengthy family visits because “my friend really wants to go see…” I made guilt free complicated requests at restaurants because “my gringo friend doesn’t like…” And I asked stupid questions about my own heritage at tourist attractions because “my friend—who’s a bit daft—wants to know more about…” Although blaming everything on her was a huge perk, the biggest bonus was getting to be a real tourist in my motherland because “my friend has never been here”.

My friend spent the first two days sightseeing around Sao Paulo without me (more on that later), so by the time I arrived, she had already covered a lot of ground. Lucky for me, even Superwoman wouldn’t be able to tour the largest city in the Americas in two short days.

With a day a half before the next leg of our trip, we speed-strolled along Avenida Paulista, a famous avenue lined with everything from sky scrapers and bookstores and museums, to bars and cafés and restaurants. We spent a minute or ten in the SESC building, a popular spot to photograph the pretty avenue, and snapped ten minutes worth of pictures.

When a crazy Brazilian thunderstorm forced us indoors, we took cover in Sao Paulo’s version of the Empire State building, Farol Santador. From the café up top, we nibbled on pão de queijo (cheese bread) and sipped chá mate (the best black tea on earth, in my humble opinion), while watching the storm have its way with the city. Then we zigzagged down the building, running through four or five of its immersive exhibits before close. I can’t decide which one was my favourite, but since I can’t remember the names of the famous personalities the exhibits paid tribute to, I’ll choose the mirror room. It was pretty awesome.

A visit to Sao Paulo—or anywhere in Brazil for that matter—would be incomplete without two things: pasteis (pastels) and açai (acai). Even with limited time, we still squeezed in a street market visit to devour flakey deep fried pockets of heaven, aka pasteis. These bad boys come stuffed with your choice of yummy filling such as cheese, palm hearts, beef, or chicken. As for açai, this super berry is found primarily in the Amazon, but bowls of its pureed sorbet-like deliciousness can be found on every street corner of Brazil. The traditional way is to have it topped with banana and granola, but there are as many toppings to choose from as there are grains of sand on Copacabana. Nutella? Sure! Powdered milk? Absolutely! Honey? Peanut butter? Mangos? Marshmallows? Of course! Though my friend chose to have it plain (eye roll).

And now on to Rio!

Can any self-respecting tourist say they’ve been to Brazil without a visit to Rio de Janeiro? Yes. But why would anyone want to? Rio is a visual and cultural feast for all tastes, from free spirited beach bums to cultured big city lovers. It’s also a world famous destination, so unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve got a good idea of what we did during our four days at the Copa, Copacabana ♪ ♫. Yes, we visited Christ the Redeemer on Corcovado Mountain and we rode a cable car up to Sugar Loaf Mountain. And yes, the vistas of Guanabara Bay from both summits were as expected: breathtaking. We were there just before Carnival and I got to shake my butt at a Bloco Party while my friend hid under the shade of a lamp post.

We even made it over to Rio’s bohemian neighbourhood of Lapa to see the Saleron Steps, a 200 step staircase covered in scraps of colourful mosaic tiles. Many of the tiles were hand painted or rummaged from Rio’s construction sites but most were donated by tourists from around the world just like us! This artistic mishmash is not to be missed.

We must’ve covered all of Rio, right? WRONG.

I took it as a good sign when, while I was sipping an ice cold chá mate on Copacabana Beach and flagging down another bikini seller, my non-beach-loving friend looked at me with tears welling in her eyes and said, “We should’ve stayed longer.” She had a good point. We had barely scratched Rio’s surface and I too, was sad to leave it only partially explored—again. Here are two things I will do on my next trip to Rio and you should, too:

Visit the Royal Portuguese Library
Attend a show at the Municipal Theatre

And then we went to Iguacu.

Iguacu boasts 275 waterfalls spanning three kilometres which makes it four times the width of Niagara Falls. I still love my Canadian landmark, but I admit it—size matters. And here are Iguacu’s three other features that also matter: location, location, location. In the middle of a tropical jungle, this natural wonder would make any nature lover’s toes curl. And it was such a short inexpensive flight, that even the view of this UNESCO beauty from the airplane was worth the pocket change, giving ‘cheap thrill’ a whole new meaning.

We started our three days on the Brazilian side where we found the best views, shorter lines, less crowds, friendlier service, and lower prices. Gee, the Brazilian side sounds spectacular, right? It was, but there’s a damn good reason the Argentinean side is pricier and more popular. From Argentina, you can’t see the expanse of the falls because you’re far too close. So intimately close that you not only hear the falls, you feel the falls. They thunder in your bones and make your heart race. Standing at Devil’s Throat Canyon makes you question your sense of balance and stirs up that head-swirling, hair-raising sensation. It. Was. Incredible.

From here on out, my friend and I parted ways. She continued further into Argentina and I returned to Sao Paulo. As much as I would’ve loved to have Tangoed on the streets of Buenos Aires and indulged my inner carnivore with steak after steak, I happily opted to indulge in obligatory family visits. After all, being a part of their lives for a few short weeks was the real reason I had booked this last minute trip to Brazil. It wasn’t to see Rio for the millionth time, or to add to my bikini collection, or to feel the roaring glory of Iguacu. What I love most about this tropical country is that it’s my motherland. I’m just at home in Sao Paulo as I am in Toronto and I cry each time the airplane touches down on Brazilian soil. Even Iguacu couldn’t evoke those emotions from me.

As for Tom Hanks…

On the way to Brazil, my flight was delayed, but my friend’s was not. I could write a full spin-off post centred on two days worth of panicked text messages. Brazil is not for beginners and I felt personally responsible for keeping my friend alive. In that post, I’d tell you how she, who speaks no Portuguese, spent two days sightseeing with my family, who speak no English. She visited museums and parks and monuments and from what I gathered, my warnings paid off. She didn’t get robbed, or die of dengue fever, or get held for ransom.

No exaggeration: I could also write an entire blog post centred on my days lounging at three different airports on account of several (and unrelated) whopping flight delays, three flight cancellations, and one overbooking. In that post I’d tell you how I made the best of each occurrence just like Tom Hanks did in The Terminal; going for massages, doing laps around the airports, and making fast friends with passengers, flight crew, and airport staff.

The flight delay/cancellation/overbooking blog post would also tell how the universe rewarded me for my good behaviour. My Tom Hanks-ing in Toronto earned me a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: when I finally arrived in Sao Paulo, three days later, I had a $1000USD credit voucher tucked in my pocket for my troubles. On the return, my thirty hours of Tom Hanks-ing in the Sao Paulo airport earned me rockstar status on the flight to Washington: with only five people on the entire aircraft (ten, if you count the flight crew), we all got upgraded to FIRST CLASS! I had a friggin BED!

I couldn’t believe my luck when I arrived in Washington and saw “Toronto Flight Cancelled” flashing on the screen. I threw my head back and laughed until my sides hurt. Luck is in the eye of the beholder and I remember thinking, “I’ve never been to Washington! Maybe this is my lucky day!” And so began Tom Hanks part III… to be cont’d…