When Things Go South

March 2026

Sometimes trips don't go as planned. 

As a planner™, I usually make sure this doesn't happen to me. I'm talking Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, and several backup plans to accompany those plans. However, as I made my way south - literally - to spend my spring break in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, things went both literally and figuratively south.

The plan was to meet up with friends in Brazil while also getting the full Rio hostel experience. As it turned out, Rio had plans for me of its own, and they started before I had even left D.C.

Flights were getting delayed left and right, and of course my flight from D.C. to New York was one of the victims. As we landed in New York and I checked the time, boarding had supposedly already closed for my flight to Rio. Delta had automatically rebooked me on another itinerary involving a ten-hour layover in Panama and an arrival in Rio two days later - out of a six-day trip. Great, I thought. What a wonderful start.

One thing I have learned from traveling is to never give up on catching a flight. War doesn't end until the end. As luck would have it, a group of college students sitting beside me on the D.C.-New York flight were also headed to Rio. We decided we would run - and run we did. As I sprinted breathlessly across JFK, I hoped months of anticipation for spring break hadn't already gone south.

The ending was anticlimactic. As it turned out, the Rio flight was delayed too (shocking!). Suddenly, the frantic ten-minute sprint didn't matter anymore. Here I was, finally on my way to Rio. As I got recommendations from a Brazilian dentist sitting beside me - who advised me to basically do nothing and never leave Ipanema (terrible advice, by the way) - I was ready for my adventure.

Rio was breathtaking from the very beginning. The first time I went to Paris, the magic didn't hit until I saw the Eiffel Tower. That's the moment when your brain and heart both go, "Oh shit, we ARE here." I hadn't felt that feeling since Paris. Then, on my cab ride from the airport to the hostel, I saw Christ the Redeemer rising above the city and felt it all over again. I was finally there - in my first country in South America, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Like many tourists, I stayed in the heart of Copacabana. The moment I walked into the hostel, I could tell how social and welcoming it was. Things were definitely looking up.

That first evening, I wandered along Copacabana Beach, checked out the flea market decked with souvenirs and jewellery and realized I had somehow packed for Rio without bringing beach sandals or swimwear. After the flea market,I made a quick trip to RioSul Shopping Center to fix that. Later, as I sat watching the sunset over Ipanema with a new beach towel, a book, a digital camera, and a friend by my side, I was already in love with Rio.

Unfortunately, Rio did not quite reciprocate those feelings. That first day turned out to be the last sunny day of my entire trip.

The next morning, I woke up early, ready to tackle my meticulously curated itinerary, when things truly began to unravel. I had booked a paragliding experience - the activity I was most excited about in Rio - only to receive a text saying the winds were too strong and the flight had been canceled.

Heartbroken, I spent the day exploring more of Copacabana and Ipanema, Uber-motoing my heart away, wandering beautiful streets, sipping coffee at amazing cafés like Apetite Café (my favorite and most visited!), and sampling fantastic Brazilian desserts (shoutout Brigadeiro!) while mourning the loss of an experience I had been looking forward to for months.

But travel has a funny way of replacing one plan with another.

That evening, I found myself pre-gaming with alarmingly large glasses of caipirinha before heading to Lapa.

Lapa's famous street party is one of Rio's most vibrant nightlife experiences. On weekends - and especially on Monday nights - the neighborhood transforms into one giant celebration. As I stood in the middle of a crowded street, dancing to "Mas Que Nada" with a passion fruit caipirinha in hand, I had one of those unmistakable "I'm in Rio" moments.

My planned Rio moment had fallen through that morning. By nightfall, life had given me a different one.

The next day was full of surprises.

After a Monday night that ended around 4 a.m., it was nothing short of miraculous that I managed to wake up at 7 a.m. for an 8 a.m. guided tour of Rio. Despite a hangover so severe I thought I might throw up every time the bus climbed a hill, our guide Marcello somehow kept everyone entertained enough to distract us from our suffering.

I have never had a funnier tour guide. He seemed to have a story for every street corner and somehow remembered everyone's name by heart.

The weather, unfortunately, remained stubbornly uncooperative. Thick clouds nearly swallowed Christ the Redeemer as we made our way up the mountain. We waited as long as we could and eventually caught a glimpse of the view, though nothing like the postcard-perfect version I had imagined. Still, seeing Christ the Redeemer up close was mesmerizing. Even hidden behind clouds, it left no doubt in my mind as to why it is considered one of the wonders of the world.

And just as Rio had surprised me with Lapa the night before, it had another surprise waiting.

While standing atop Sugarloaf Mountain, I spotted a familiar face. At first, I couldn't believe it. It was Ryan, a friend from my internship the previous summer. Neither of us knew the other was in Brazil, let alone standing on the same mountain at the same time. What are the odds? Running into someone you know on another continent makes the world feel impossibly small. It reminded me that some of the best travel memories come from things no itinerary could ever predict.

By the end of the day, I had checked off nearly every Rio landmark imaginable: Escadaria Selarón, Maracanã Stadium, the Metropolitan Cathedral, and a Brazilian steakhouse feast to top it all off. The day was as touristy as it gets - and somehow all the better for it.

The following day had only one item on the itinerary: explore Centro and follow Leticia's lead.

As a Rio local, Leticia was the perfect guide. I was amazed by how much she knew - not just about the major landmarks, but about the stories hidden behind them. She knew the museums, the monuments, the obscure historical facts, and the little details that make a city feel alive. By the end of the day, I realized that all you really need to be a great guide is a deep love for the place you call home.

We explored museums, plazas, churches, and historic streets before ending the day with desserts at Confeitaria Manon, featured in the Oscar-winning film I'm Still Here (2024), and Confeitaria Colombo, the iconic café dating back to 1892 that has hosted everyone from royalty to political figures.

Spending the day with Leticia left a lasting impression on me.

There is such joy in becoming a tourist in your own city - in having a favorite café, knowing obscure stories, and appreciating the history hidden in plain sight. Watching her speak so passionately about Rio inspired me to do the same wherever I end up calling home, even if home is a place that is ever-changing.

My final day in Rio was spent reflecting - a rare activity for me, but one inspired by all the friends I had reunited with and met along the way.

Maggie and I took a samba class, which was every bit as fun as it sounds. By the end, it felt like we had traveled back to our night in Lapa, only this time with slightly better dance moves for "Mas Que Nada."

On my last day, I lingered.

I took one final Uber Moto ride (where my phone almost got snatched, different story), walked through Ipanema one last time, bought my favorite ice cream, and drank one last água de coco. As I prepared to leave, a light drizzle began to fall. Through the clouds, I could just make out the sun peeking over Morro Dois Irmãos.

Sure, I never really got to meet the Rio sunshine on this trip.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped caring.

This wasn't the Rio I had planned for. The weather never cooperated, the paragliding never happened, and many of the postcard moments I imagined never materialized. Yet somehow, those disappointments made room for everything else: dancing in Lapa, meeting strangers in hostels, running into old friends on mountaintops, and spending a day seeing Rio through the eyes of someone who loved it deeply.

Rio never gave me the trip I expected.

It gave me a better story.

And all I could hope for as I left was that one day I would come back - and finally meet the sun.