When the airplane touched down on the runway at Rio Galeão airport in Rio de Janeiro, I stared out the window in a state of disbelief. After planning this trip for nearly a year, I had finally arrived, and I didn’t want to get off the airplane. I was alone and terrified.

What did I get myself into?

Of course, staying on the airplane wasn’t an option. I had no choice but to stand up, swallow my fear, which I would do many more times throughout the next four months, and make the long walk toward baggage claim.

“First time in Brazil?” the immigration agent asked before stamping my passport. I nodded. “Welcome, enjoy,” he said with an amused smile. I took my passport back and kept walking. It must be fun, I thought, watching all the bewildered and sleep-deprived gringos like myself filing through his line.

I collected my…