GRIP, Internships Abroad Travel Close, Not Far

Escola Eleva - Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

When you think of the word "travel", what comes to mind? Maybe you fantasize about trading dreary winters for days basking under the sun at the world's most pristine beaches. Or maybe you dream of summiting rocky peaks with breathtaking views for miles on end. Traveling may certainly include such sights and sensations, yet I have discovered that the greatest rewards travel has to offer are largely hidden in the seemingly mundane daily routine: all you must do is open your mind to the potential for "finding the extraordinary in the ordinary."

My daily routine here in Rio de Janeiro may not be travel-brochure-worthy, yet my activities are nonetheless very gratifying. I live in a hostel close to the school where I intern, and I can't imagine a more valuable living situation. The vast majority of the hostel guests stay there semi-permanently (for example, my friend, Marina, has been living there for a year now) and almost all of them are Brazilians. It may not be a host family, but it is definitely a 'hostel family.'

When I wake in the morning, I linger over bread and cheese with my hostel family before we stroll to our respective universities and workplaces. We joke around, converse in Portuguese about the day ahead, and try to make each other late. This is the only time of day that everyone in my hostel family comes together, so I cherish it. 

Once at my internship, the walk through the school is punctuated by "bom dia" and brief catch-ups with my co-workers. I squeeze my way through the sea of children scampering through the halls, give some high fives and hugs, and then grab the Tropical Fruit of the Day from the fruit cart. This week, I head over to the third-grader "tree house", where I administer English tests to determine kids' language levels. I always look forward to chatting with each student in between exams about everything ranging from their viewing party plans for the World Cup, to their progress learning square dancing for the school's Festa de São João. 

On my way home from my internship, I wind through narrow streets, pass by crumbling colonial-age shops and houses, and weave between tropical trees that spill out onto the streets. Looking upward, the iconic Sugarloaf Mountain rises above clusters of buildings and the nearby Praia Vermelha beach. In the distance, the iconic Christ statue looms over the city, drifting in an out of view as clouds sweep by. Walking along the main road, I stop at the supermarket, where I greet my friend and 'personal shopping assistant,' Ronald, who I am forever indebted to for his tireless efforts to help me complete store-wide food scavenger hunts every afternoon. On my way back to the hostel, I pass by dozens of tiny bars and restaurants. Every now and then, I pause to listen to the music that leaks out onto the streets, where it blends into the roars of motorcycles, bangs of construction work, and the languid chattering of Cariocas in the late afternoon.

Once at my hostel, I chat with the receptionist, Lyssinho, for a while and keep him company as he checks in guests. Soon after, I summon Antonio, a member of my hostel family who is conveniently a chef, to cook dinner. Here in Rio, cooking is a truly wonderful way to bond with my hostel family, and I look forward to it every day. Every night, those of us who cook dinner together trade recipes and make food for the group to try. Our hostel family contains Brazilians from all parts of the country, and each person brings their own unique flavor to the table. Even better than dessert, our dinners almost always end with a dance party of some sort: I teach my hostel family how to dance salsa, and, of course, they teach me how to samba. 

While I have all of the beaches and mountains I could desire right here in Rio, I must look no further than the hundreds of mundane, beautiful moments that comprise my daily routine for the purest satisfaction that life has to offer.