“O que significa quando os franceses dizem oui oui?”

Either my Uber driver wants to make sure he is truly pleasing French women in bed, or he gives a lot of rides to French tourists who don’t speak Portuguese and go “oui oui” because they have no clue what he just asked.

It’s a long ride to the airport so I also explain “merci” and “bien sûr.” Now he will be able to communicate better after sex—or during car rides.

I don’t mind making conversation. I have butterflies in my stomach.

I’m flying to Rio de Janeiro. This alone could make me nervous—I have a complicated relationship with Brazil’s cidade maravilhosa because it can be the most beautiful place on earth and the most infuriating one as well. Rio is pretty, dirty, very rich and very poor, sunny, awfully rainy and more. It’s… not an easy place.

I checked the weather. At least it’s not raining.

But I know my Airbnb won’t be great and I know it’s about to get completely crazy because Carnival is starting.

And I’m nervous because organizing a rendezvous is tricky, especially considering we’re both flying to Rio from faraway places.

It takes forever to drop off my bag at the airport. The party is about to start so it’s packed. Salvadorians who don’t like Carnival are escaping to beach resorts, foreigners fly in for a week and many people are just heading to another Carnival destination—my flight to Rio de Janeiro is full.

Two hours later, I’m back to “the South,” this part of Brazil where it’s two degrees cooler at night without the sun.

Rio’s airport is in full Carnival mode with decorations, tons of beer ads, and plenty of clueless tourists from abroad. It takes me a while to get an Uber and even longer to reach Copacabana.

My Airbnb isn’t as bad as the one I had two years ago during Carnival but it’s not great either. Buildings and apartments are old in Rio de Janeiro—tiny kitchens, cockroaches, and questionable plumbing are part of life. I can’t exactly complain, I’ve just crossed kilometres of favelas on the way from the airport…

I shop, work, cook, and sleep. I don’t even go for a walk along Copacabana. I have to go back to the airport the next day and be at Arrivals at 3:55 p.m., that’s what matters to me right now.

I think I slept but I don’t feel rested.

I do go for a long walk along Copacabana in the morning because I’m killing time until it’s time to take an Uber and go back to the airport.

And I stand there, at Arrivals… until the door opens and I see Mark and Feng, straight off the plane from Canada.

Straight from Canada but not directly—Ottawa-Toronto-São Paulo-Rio de Janeiro. But hey, they made it.

“Ready for Carnival, guys?”