It’s 10am and I’m standing on a bustling street looking at the sky, trying to work out if the sun looks discernibly different from usual. It doesn’t, but the fact that the sun is actually in the sky is more than enough change for me. There is a tropical atlantic breeze gently wafting hints of Cachaça and lime in my direction, and into my line of sight flies something that looks suspiciously like a pterodactyl. All this confirms that I have, against all the odds, made it to my final destination. Avenida Nossa Senhora, Copacabana, Rio de freaking Janeiro!
I haven’t slept for over 50 hours, I’ve spent two consecutive nights on airport floors, and I don’t have any luggage because my bag has gone on a solo jolly to Houston – but none of this matters because I’m now pretty hyper from seeing the sun and breathing all this Cachaça air so I give myself…
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