Bom dia

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Good night’s rest? Check ✅. Sunrise watch? Up next. Bom dia!

At 6 a.m. on Friday, Ebitie and I dragged ourselves out of bed to catch the sunrise at the Mirante Dona Marta observation deck, nestled in the Tijuca National Forest. Haile rightly chose to sleep in while we chased views.

On the way to Mirante, I caught my first glimpse of Big Cristo as we drove along the Lagoa. By the way, I had no idea where we were heading and honestly didn’t care to know. Ebitie simply said, “Let’s go watch the sunrise tomorrow,” and I said, “Bet.” She took charge of the research to find the best spot in the city, and I happily basked in the brilliance of her discovery.

Big Cristo, Cristo Redentor, or Christ the Redeemer, is a 98-foot-tall statue perched atop a 26-foot pedestal on Mount Corcovado, a 2,329-foot mountain renowned for its breathtaking panoramic views of Rio. The statue depicts Christ with arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture, symbolizing peace, Christianity, and the loving acceptance of all visitors. Declared one of the Seven Wonders of the World in 2007, this iconic monument was officially unveiled on October 12, 1931, after nearly nine years of construction. Now, 93 years later, here I was in Rio, taking in multiple views of this awe-inspiring figure from different vantage points throughout the city.

Truth: “You must not make for yourself an idol of any kind or an image of anything in the heavens or on the earth or in the sea.” Exodus‬ ‭20‬:‭4‬

History: After freeing the slaves, Princess Isabel was offered a monument in her honor. Instead, she requested an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ to be erected, declaring Him the True Redeemer of Mankind.

Me: This isn’t a religious monument; it’s a wonder of the world 😭🙃✅.

A wonder of the world that’s frequently struck by lightning due to its height and location—how dramatic is that? In 2014, one particularly fierce lightning strike even damaged a fingertip, which had to be repaired. LOL. But most importantly, this is my first wonder of the world.

Traveling to see all the wonders of the world is an entirely different travel game that the present me is not particularly interested in playing. I much prefer the thrill of fumbling into a declared wonder rather than meticulously planning a trip around one. It’s way more my vibe to stumble upon greatness than to schedule it 😅.

Anywho, back to watching the sunrise. When we got to the top of the mountain, our Uber driver, being the real MVP, proactively offered to wait for us since there wouldn’t be any service, Ubers, or taxis available to get us back down. Shout out to him, because logistics? Yeah, we hadn’t thought that far ahead. It reminded me of that one time I Ubered to Twin Peaks in SF and couldn’t get any service to call a ride back down. We ended up walking down the mountain, phones held high, desperately waving them around to catch even a single bar. Déjà vu, but this time, thankfully, we had a driver who saved us from the mountain walk of shame.

Our first glimpse of the panoramic view affirmed just how badass we were for seeking this out. It was truly awe-inspiring. The hues of the sunrise, the towering presence of Big Cristo, the glistening Lagoa, the sprawling city, the vibrant favelas, the serene bay—words simply fail to capture the feelings that washed over me as I took in this bomb shakalaka view.

There’s no artist greater than God. I found myself worshipping our Father, not just for creating such breathtaking beauty but for His generosity in bringing me here to witness it. And the best part? It was free. With so many paid tourist options to see Cristo, there we were, standing in His presence for free, surrounded by a masterpiece only God could paint.

And there was a part two. We walked along a bamboo-lined pathway, climbing innumerable stairs to catch a view of the west side. The sun cast its glowing orange reflection over the water, painting the scene in shades of serenity. I found a ledge to casually pose on, all the while praying I wouldn’t become that tourist—the one who falls off and makes headlines.

Beyond the breathtaking views, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer number of tall apartment buildings and blocks of houses nestled into every nook and cranny of Rio. Why was I so surprised to see such development? It’s a reminder of how America has completely dominated the PR narrative about the “developed world.” Somewhere along the way, I internalized this conditioning to expect everywhere else to be inferior to the U.S. I’m ashamed. The more I travel the more I see the lie told. Rio is developedddd.

From our vantage point, nestled on the same mountain as Big Cristo, we could see a favela—its colorful houses stacked tightly together, spilling down the hillside like a vibrant mosaic. The juxtaposition of breathtaking and everyday hustle life was striking. Favelas are informal urban settlements in Brazil, often characterized by densely packed housing and a lack of formal urban planning. They emerged in the late 19th century as a solution for displaced workers and freed slaves who couldn’t afford formal housing. The favela visible from our spot was Santa Marta Favela, one of Rio’s most well-known favelas. It’s famous for its vibrant colors, and street art. Santa Marta gained international attention in 1996 when Michael Jackson filmed part of his They Don’t Care About Us music video there. Today, a statue of him stands in the favela as a tribute to his connection with the community.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to do a favela tour on this trip, but seeing Santa Marta from afar still offered a glimpse into the heartbeat of Rio—its contrasts, creativity, and resilience. It’s definitely something I’ll keep on my list for next time.

After our perfect start to Friday, we headed back to Ipanema on the hunt for breakfast—but first, coconut water. On the drive, we noticed a fresh market had popped up just a couple of blocks from our Airbnb, so naturally, we made it our next stop.

The moment we stepped into the market, Brazilians approached us with fruit samples—strawberries, kiwi, mango, cherries, watermelon—you name it. The fruits were delicious, and the best part? There were no strings attached. I kept waiting for these kind Brazilian men feeding me fruits to pull a scam or ask for money, but it never happened. They were patient, and genuinely happy to serve. Unlike some experiences in places like Mexico, Costa Rica, or Panama, there was no hustle here—just good vibes and fresh produce.

One thing that stood out: this was the first market I’ve been to where even the smallest purchases could be made with credit cards. I paid for my coconut water with Apple Pay, which felt surreal. And let me tell you, that coconut water passed the quality check with flying colors. While it wasn’t better than Trinidad or Jamaica’s coconut water (let’s be real, nothing tops those), it was definitely up there. Totally acceptable. Knowing I’d have easy access to good azz coconut water makes Brazil a place I can live.

Ipanema breathes art; even the curbs are adorned with vibrant geometric patterns, floral motifs, and cultural symbols, seamlessly blending creativity into daily life where there was always someone sweeping the streets, more particularly, the curb in front of their homes to keep it clean and shiny. On our walk, we noticed even more barefooted people, a reminder of the beachy, laid-back vibe that defines this neighborhood.

Our walk ended at Baked Padaria & Forneria, our target spot for breakfast. After getting a table, placing our orders, and setting up our laptops to tackle some random to-dos, the waiter informed us that there’s no Wi-Fi. We looked around and, sure enough, no one else had a laptop. I thought, "Damn, we already ordered." Determined, I got up and checked out two nearby coffee shops, only to find that none of them had Wi-Fi either.

What’s this? I guess this is how they nudge people to socialize. No Wi-Fi means you’re left to sit, sip, and chit-chat with whoever’s in front of you. It’s charming in a way, but also… I spotted a business opportunity. Imagine a coffee shop in Ipanema with Wi-Fi, good food, and great coffee—a place where nomad workers like me could thrive. Ipanema may be too hippie and anti-work-café for now, but that just leaves room to fill the gap. Aussie Coffee seem to be the only spot to get Wi-Fi and coffee at. I look forward to the day I can spontaneously spring up a business based on a random whim sparked during one of my travel adventures.

For lunch, we went for the meat at Churrascaria Palace, a renowned Brazilian steakhouse in Copacabana. It’s an all-you-can-eat rodízio service featuring approximately 30 types of meats, and let me tell you, we ate. Of course, I had to try Brazil’s national cocktail, the Caipirinha, made with cachaça, sugar, and lime. Funny enough, the night before at the grocery store, the grocer had us waiting forever as he debated what cachaça really was and if they had any. After all that back and forth, he still didn’t know, so we surely revoked his Brazilian card. But back to lunch—the meat was phenomenal, no notes to share, eat everything you can.

After that heavy meal, I needed to walk it off, so I decided to stroll along Copacabana Beach back to the Airbnb—a 2.5-mile, one-hour walk. The beach was alive with activity, from locals soaking up the sun to street vendors and soccer games. As I walked, I had a deep conversation with Latifah about the state of my life and all the buckets I’m juggling. Our chat centered on my career and my reasons for staying the course, even when it feels bleh.

You may have heard about Copacabana in Barry Manilow’s song Copacabana (At the Copa). While the song technically references the New York nightclub, its lively and glamorous vibe always seems to tie back to this iconic beach, making it a fitting soundtrack for my reflective walk.

Once I got back to the airbnb, I hammocked my evening away.