dodgy rooms.

I’ d stayed in some places, but this places takes the biscuit. I thought as the ‘carioca’ boy showed me the room. Looking around the boxy, bare room. Bed, low sheet worn, but looked as if it was fairly clean. The walls painted and chipped a slimy shade of green. Tiny prison style windows, which didn’t open but ran the whole length of the room. A shelf on the wall, and some hooks, a plastic garden chair.

‘hhmm’ I thought, I would do.

‘Sí, me tendrá I pronounce in my basic Spanish, nodding my head at the boy. This much he gets as he smiles, shakes my hand and hands me the key, and leaves me standing in the room.

I put my heavy rucksack down on the chair, almost toppling it over, as one leg is half melted. The plastic distorted in a new shape.

I sit on the bed, and bounce. Hard as a rock I think as I look underneath it, no wonder the mattress is supported by a blank of wood. No pillow either. Well what do I expect. Eight dollars for night, hardly the Ritz. I pull out my sleeping bag, rolled up and attached to my rucksack, and stretch it out over the bed. No way my bare skin was touching that bed.

I open up my rucksack, biting through the clip ties, my father had insisted he put on for safety. ‘Making it hard to get in your pack’ he said. Always his little girl, no matter how old, that’s why I needed to do this, and on my own. Show everybody that yes, I can get by on my own. I push thoughts of home, so far away outta my head. Am here now, no time to be thinking of everything I have left behind. Four weeks and I will be back….

I take out my money, travellers cheques, passport and put them in my secret pocket, strapped on to my underwear. Out of sight under my jeans.

I head out of the room, locking it firmly behind me, and putting the key in my pocket. Shared bathroom at the end of the dark corridor. The floor filthy, as I walk along and push open the door.

A broken toilet, no seat or lid, dirty too, the smell from the room hitting me. Drains. A sink, and what looks like or should be a shower. A small hole in the wall with a tap attached, about six foot up. How the hell am I gona reach that, I laugh.

I turn on the tap at the sink and the pipes vibrate as the noise echos throught them, and a drizzle of cold murky water splurges out. Hhmm maybe not I think, as I run my hands under the substance and then through my hair. Pulling a band of my wrist I tie my hair up, the best I could with no mirror.

Right time to venture out, I want to get a look at the view, watch the wildlife and maybe take the train up to the Ferro do Corcovado.

My adventure has really begun.

The End

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