It’s now level between Sao Paulo and me: I figured out the lights (or, well, had the lights explained to me), then managed to keep down solid food. Last night I dined like a king at an authentic Brazilian steakhouse, although not before walking in and uttering an unironic, “Restaurant?” I’m now officially outside my comfort zone and (this’ll surprise those of you who know me) thoroughly enjoying myself; it’s scary yet stimulating, and in this newfound spirit of adventure (albeit within the confines of a fifteen-person English-speaking group tour) I’m off to go webcam shopping. The number of people who, upon learning that I’m Canadian, have responded with some sort of Vancouver/hockey comment: three. I’ve even had a full-blown conversation–with a Brazilian, no less–about Ryan Miller’s goalie mask. I’m further afield than I’ve ever been before, yet seldom have I seen so powerfully illustrated how the earth itself is shrinking.
You’re About to Read My Third etc.