Writing from a small mattress on the floor of an apartment full of students in Curitiba, Brazil. Trying to sleep, but it's not going so well because there's a bug flying around, a mosquito. Just one. I can hear it but I can't find and kill it. I think it's bitten me twice already, and now I'm itchy. Don't get the wrong idea, it's not hot and sticky here, it's rainy and chilly. But I also can't sleep because I keep thinking about how awesome this all is. Being on the road again, friends opening their hearts and homes to me, meeting new people. I'm a lucky girl, sho nuff.
I was worried about leaving when I did. Missing the holidays with the family is going to be strange. Maybe I should have stayed and worked longer, saved up more money, done more precise planning. But now things keep falling into place, strange little coincidences insinuating that I'm doing something right.
I'd keep writing, maybe come up with some really deep travel insights, but this mosquito is driving me nuts. If I can't find it I'll roll up like a burrito in my blanket and hope it dies or something. Stories from Rio de Janeiro coming soon, stay tuned.
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