by Susan Stafford Pooley
Ahhhh, Copacabana.
My mental health day yesterday was fabulous – I went to the main transportation hub (mind-boggling number of buses), visited the Main Press Centre to get my cool Olympic swag, walked around Olympic Park for a while, then hopped another bus to Copacabana Beach. I walked for miles, saw lots of stuff, had a beer and a burger and watched the waves and the thong-clad tanned bodies (which literally came in all sizes, bless ’em). The boardwalk is home to throngs of tourists, locals, cops, hawkers, beautiful people, homeless people, and one particularly unkempt crazy guy yelling at people. In short, just like downtown Toronto.
Bliss.
Olympic-symbol-with-butt-crack.
Art by the Ocean.
Rah-rah guys at Olympic Park.
Sand sculptures overseen by Christ the Redeemer.
A Word About Stuff
Everyone is worried about their stuff here – computers, cameras, wallets, passports, other gear. We arrive with piles of stuff and then have to rearrange the stuff depending on what we’re doing that day. We are afraid of losing it or having it stolen.
Do I need my Visa or debit card? Cash? Camera? Bug spray? Which bag shall I cram it all in? Should I take my purse (which holds a lot of stuff) with me or leave it in the safe?
George Carlin nailed it on the head in his “Stuff” routine (see about the 2:20 mark):
