The runner slows down and removes his headphones.

“Pardon?”

“Your bats.  I hear there are bats around here.  In your botanic garden,” I ask.

He looked around the Sydney Botanic Garden and attempted to catch his breath but there was a look of confusion on his face.

“I’m not sure what you mean” he said in a kind, Australian accent.

“Bats!  You know.  Sleep upside down?  Hunt at night?  Turn into vampires if you’re not careful?”

“You mean Flying Foxes?”

“Excuse me?”

“We call them Flying-Foxes.”

“Foxes don’t fly,” I scoff at the Australian runner.

“They’re over there.  If you stand up at the highway at dusk you can get the best pictures.”  He put his headphones back in and turned to run away.  A sound similar to “Stupid Yank” seemed to come from his direction, but it may have just been the wind.

While on a park tour in the Hunter Valley tour I asked our guide if there were any Flying Foxes in the woods where we were walking.

“Flying what?”

“Foxes…ya know.  Hunt at night.  Turn into vamp–”

“You mean bats?”

“This place stole the 2016 Olympics from Chicago, and I am going to find reasons why it doesn’t deserve it,” I thought to myself when we arrived.

In the bus ride to the iconic Christ the Redeemer I looked out the window at all of the passing buildings and people.  The Copacabana beach flew past us as our tour guide attempted to explain the significance of the city.

“Chicago’s still better,” I thought to myself as we arrived at the Corcovado mountain.

We took another van to the top of the hill and were allowed to walk the 222 steps to the summit.  When I arrived I was dumbfounded.  I was in awe.  The statue, which had been funded my public donations in the early 1930s, was a masterpiece.  Its art deco style made it seem even more powerful atop the mountain.

Our guide told us that the weather had been lousy lately and they had been doing a lot of construction work so we were very fortunate to see it in its full form.  I tried to take it all in while simultaneously digesting an incredible panoramic view of the city itself.

“Okay.  This place isn’t that bad,” I conceded as we made our way back to the van.

Next we visited the main Catholic cathedral in town which had been built in the style of a Mayan temple.  The ceilings rose dramatically and were  lined with a variety of stained glass and religious symbols.  I snapped about a thousand photos and moved on.

“Well that was…amazing,” I thought to myself while getting back on the bus.  The Olympic win seemed more and more plausible with every stop.

We made a few more detours in town before arriving at  Sugarloaf Mountain.  This was another sight that took me by surprise.  We rode in two cable cars between the large landforms before arriving at what had to be the best vantage point for a sunset that I’d ever seen.  Natalie and I took pictures and wandered all around the top of the mountain before sitting for a moment to have a hot chocolate to warm up.  It was truly stunning.

“Well I suppose the Olympic committee knew what it was doing,” I thought as were dropped off back at our hotel.  “I can’t wait to see all of this again in 2016.”

But GAP Adventures threw us a curve ball today.

Our tour guide, Marcus, led us through the favelas of Brazil, which are essentially the city slums.

As he began to give our group a run down of what to expect, Marcus mentioned the current omnipresence of drug lords and automatic weapons and the 200,000 people who live their lives in such conditions.  We weren’t sure what we had gotten ourselves into.

“Our tour begins at the top of the mountain,” he told us.  “In order to get there, we need to ride these.” He pointed to a group of motorcyclists who were idly waiting for us.  We all hopped on the back of one these rickety motor vehicles and hung on to a complete Brazilian stranger for dear life. We took off racing up the crowded mountain, zigging and zagging between trucks and other bikes, all completely uphill with no helmet.

When we eventually screeched to a halt at the crest of the hill, Marcus said, “Now up here at the entrance, you will see young men who have guns and drugs. Do not be alarmed. These are my friends and I follow the rules.  We will be fine,” Marcus calmly stated.

Sure enough, we passed men holding automatic weapons and getting rowdy in the local bars on Sunday morning.  “They are harmless,” he explained as we walked by. “But absolutely no cameras in this area… We don’t want anyone to get shot.”

Our group proceeded into the labyrinth and stopped periodically for Marcus to explain certain aspects of the village. He showed us local artisans, introduced us to children who lived there and pointed out a local child care center that was run by volunteers.

“This is important for you to see,” he told us, “because there is hope that lives here too.”

Despite the weight of the place, he envisioned a better future for this place. He told us of ongoing municipal projects to better the space as well as other grassroots efforts to raise the standard of living.

As we walked out, our heads were spinning from witnessing that side of the city, but we were appreciative to have our eyes opened to reality.  It is enlightening for tourists to see all sides of humanity that exist in a place like Rio to get a more holistic understanding of its culture.

Casey & Natalie

We took a quick bus ride with our group of fellow GAP Adventurers to our big Tango dance class.  I have enjoyed dancing with my friends before (in more of a free-form, embarrassing way) so to go to an official class was a wholly new experience for me.

When Natalie and I arrived we were asked to be seated around the edge of the dance classroom.  We shook hands with other fellow Tango classmates and waited for our teacher’s arrival.

After a few minutes, our confident, bilingual dance instructor  strutted into the classroom.  He simultaneously put me at ease and made me feel quite anxious.

“Tonight we will be learning the basic Tango dancing steps,” he told us.  “Afterward,  we will all watch a real Tango show so you can appreciate how incredible the dance truly is.”

We did a few warm up exercises (walking around the room, positioning our arms appropriately, awkwardly laughing at how foreign it felt to move so methodically) and got into the groove of things.

Men and women were split up as we were shown our gender specific steps and movements.  From there we were mixed and prepped on how to do the full dance together.  It was funny and embarrassing to attempt to move so gracefully with a  complete stranger, but it made for a jovial atmosphere.

After about an hour of these movements, we dined on an incredible Argentinian meal and were then treated to a spectacular Tango performance.  Lights.  Colors.  Singing.  Incredibly coordinated dancing and fancy footwork.  It was a real delight and a chance to truly appreciate how powerful and difficult the Tango can be.