Home & Reflection

January 11th, 2017

It’s officially the end. I’m at home coughing by brains out, praying I won’t  herniate another disk because of it, heating the bejeebies out of my wildly congested ear, typing away with a TV on and a MacBook Pro on my lap, a sweater on my body, heat on in my big-ass house, with a peeling chest making me reminisce to the morning I dove under the waves all day long. Looking back on my time in Rio, it felt like one of the most real times in my life, but now feels like such a haze. I am so thankful that I took the crap ton of pictures that I did. With them, I am able to stitch together my experience to remind myself that what I now feel was an incredible dream was actually a piece of my reality. Of course the conversations have already dulled, but that’s the beauty of photography. It sparks feelings, and even more surprisingly revitalizes memories. Take my photos of Sugar Loaf for example. There is a huge difference between going to Sugar Loaf versus remembering the interactions you had there. My pictures help me remember the hour long conversation our group had about Greek life on OU’s campus and the jokes Daryl and I were already having about being soooo sunburned. I have pictures of the up-and-coming photographer, Alex, letting me photograph him for a change. I have one shot of him taking a suuuuper up-close shot of some tree in the Botanical Gardens on one of the first days of our trip. That jogs my memory into recalling all the times he came up to me with a mediocre shot of a boat or a plant he was thrilled to show everyone about—I definitely remember those days. I told him about the Rule of Thirds and looking beyond the thing or idea that caught your eye to add a little bit more context, using your environment to frame your own idea to guide the view through your thoughts. But I don’t think he was catching on. Haha!

I’m also starting to notice, soooo late in the game, that my journal entries are not particularly reflective on what actually happened during my time in Rio, but what those experiences made me think about and feel. Like the Selaron steps? Those tiles made me feel so freaking tired. I loved realizing how much I appreciated the art of Rio. All of that graffiti ALL OVER THE CITY was absolutely incredible. It was also pretty shocking. In a city so full of disrespect, I still cannot believe how none of the graffiti was graffitied over each other. There weren’t even gang tags over the graffiti. It was art that was so surprisingly respected! And it was GORGEOUS! I never even took photos of any of it, there was absolutely no way to capture not only the art but all of the ironic respect that the graffiti represented. How is it that in a society where a huge fraction of the people are so horrifically ignored that an art form, which degrades other art structures (architecture), is so abundant and accepted by not only the public, but other artists?! That baffles me!!

One of my other favorite things about Rio was definitely the Capoeira that we not only watched in Rochina, but took part in with a lesson in one of Rochina’s big community complexes. It was the day of the African history walking tour with Syd (where the information was great but Syd was scary). That was our second to last day in Rio, and when you combine a week of non-stop go-go-going, a woman who scared the bejeebies out of you, and constant 100 degree temperatures with a scorching sun, only four of us went with Caren back into Rochina. It was me, John, Emily, and Alex. Emily used to be a gymnast so she kicked serious butt, John is John and dominated with all of his martial arts study, and then Alex was….well Alex with his hyper-fast metabolism and skinny body that could do whatever it wanted. Then there was me. Ha! The struggle started with my shoes having to come off because of the matts we were practicing on—then the first warm up was running, without my lift in. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to do anything! But immediately a guy came over and worked with me individually, substituting moves for me when I couldn’t run or jump like the rest of them.

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