Notes From Everywhere

Some trips begin with a plane ticket. Mine began with a book.

A few months before traveling to Brazil, I read a historical novel about an woman searching for her roots in Rio de Janeiro. Woven into her story was another one—the incredible story of how Christ the Redeemer was built. I found myself fascinated not only by the statue itself but by the engineering, the people who built it, and the millions of tiny triangular soapstone tiles covering its surface.

By the time I finished the book, I knew I wanted to see it with my own eyes. That one story moved Rio de Janeiro from my “maybe someday” list to “let’s go this year.”

We chose to take the historic train instead of one of the shuttle vans. As it climbed slowly up Corcovado Mountain, winding through the lush Tijuca Forest, I realized getting there was becoming part of the adventure itself. With every turn the excitement grew. Then, suddenly, we were there.

We booked one of the first trains of the morning, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions we made. The soft morning light was beautiful for photos, and we had time to simply enjoy the view before the summit became too busy.

I had seen countless photographs of Christ the Redeemer over the years, but standing beneath it was something completely different. The statue was far larger than I had imagined, yet somehow peaceful at the same time. Looking up from its base, I finally understood why it had become one of the world’s most recognizable landmarks.

The view over Rio was spectacular, but I often found myself looking back up at the statue.

The book described how women from Rio’s high society helped prepare the millions of tiny soapstone tiles that cover Christ the Redeemer. Many are said to have written the names of their loved ones on the back before the tiles were placed on the statue. That little detail completely changed the way I looked at the monument.

More than anything, I wanted to walk right up to its feet and see those tiny pieces up close.

That moment reminded me why I love reading before I travel.

Sometimes a place becomes special long before you arrive. A story gives it meaning, and when you finally stand there yourself, you aren’t just seeing a monument.

You’re seeing the story that first brought you there.