Rachel's Rantings in Rio

pics on Sodahead
Chatterbox asked me if I’ve ever passed out. Leave it to a 5 yr old to bring up a random question like that over chocolate milk.

I have passed out once. Actually more than once but the most memorable time was here in Rio de Janeiro while pregnant with him.

I was about 7 months along and returning from some errand with Mr. Rant downtown Rio de Janeiro (centro). It was when Rio de Janeiro had two seasons: Hot and Hell. We were in hot but I was carrying at least 14 extra kilos and a large belly. Some say it was the drastic change in temperature from the air conditioned metro station to the hot sunny afternoon. Others say it was a lack of sodium, especially the person who later tried to pour a salt packet into my mouth (I’ll get to that part). I personally blame naturally low blood pressure that must have dropped, it has happened before.

Regardless, none of that is the entertaining part… obviously.

I walked out with Mr. Rant and felt the telltale signs that I was going to go down. Unfortunetly for Mr Rant, I only had the telltale signs about 45 seconds before I actually passed out. I essentially leaned against the wall and informed him that I was going down. He says that I did just that, immediately afterward slid down the wall and sprawled out on the ground in front of the exit to the street.

He must of been panicked because when I woke up I was not scolded as to how I way lying on a really dirty floor. Actually, when I woke up I wasn’t lying on the floor. I was propped up and there was a circle of strangers around me. One of the women was holding my glasses. Another woman was holding my purse. A very persistent woman was doing a spiritual healing on me with her hands. It was the first thing I asked when I came to. I asked her what the hell she was doing. The next thing I said was that I did not, DID NOT, want to go to the metro infirmary. I had no idea they even had one.

I ended up being brought into the store that shared a wall with the spot I passed out on. At this point I was wondering where my husband went. Was I so delusional that I had imagined that he was with me when I passed out. Nope, I wasn’t that bad.

It turns out he was sent for water. Of course he didn’t have change. That started an entire dialog with the guy at the newsstand who finally gave the water for free because Mr Rant was the husband of the pregnant lady who passed out on the floor practically on the street. Oh the insanity.

He came into the tiny store, now filled with about 8 people (not counting Mr Rant, myself, or the sales people), to find me fighting with a woman over her trying to pour salt from an old salt packet she pulled from her purse into my mouth. I appreciated the sentiment and it was possible that I had low sodium, but in my book taking some random lady’s old salt packet is up with buying my wine out of the back of someones truck. Not really my thing.

In the end I finally got away. It took about 3 or 4 attempts at standing, where I was practically pushed back down by the crowd in concern. Obviously I needed to sit longer. Of course suffocating from lack of oxygen in a tiny store stuffed with people who were surrounding me like a cult does a deity was the best idea. In the end Mr Rant convinced them that he could haul my fat ass if that was what was necessary and yes we would call my doctor.

But it did calm a little annoying nerve that was inside me, one that worried about having a baby in Rio de Janeiro. Such a big city with an underside that could be intimidating to a pregnant foreigner.

In the end, when I was totally vulnerable, I received an annoyingly large amount of all kinds of help. No one ran off with my expensive sunglasses. No one went into my purse. No one tried to cop a feel (though I totally understand that one;). Yes Mr Rant was there but in true Carioca fashion 6 to 8 other people were attempting to take control of the situation from him and do it their way.

In the words of Gwen Stefani: Rio, You’re really lovely underneath it all.