Brazil...Brasil....

Brazil

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil. I don’t know what drew me to it; the culture, the people, the photographs of rolling Rio beaches, the kaleidoscope of Carnaval colors, the sweet hum of bossa nova or the intoxicating beats of samba. Maybe it was the history of its people, the myriad of cultures blending over decades,  the mystery of the amazon, the fluent movements of capoeira or the bright colors of their flag matched only by the colors of exotic species and flora and fauna. Growing up watching Brazilian telenovelas, I was mesmerized by the language and sounds that emanated from the actors’ lips. Whatever it was, there is something that has always pulled me towards Brazil and it was unexplainable. I finally had a chance to make my dream come true in October of 2014.

When I first decided to go to Brazil, everyone around me thought I was about to walk into a dangerous trap. Everyone commented on the crime and kidnappings, pickpocketing, organ harvesting, black market and every other danger possible and how it was dumb for two of us females to go unto uncharted territory. I did not care, I was making yet another dream come true. My Mom says that following my dreams will get me killed but if I don’t follow my dreams, I will surely die spiritually and not at the hands of some criminal. Once Martha (my bestie from work) and I got it in our heads that we are going to Brazil, there was no talking us out of it. I got my Brazilian visa, my guide book and my yellow fever shot and I was off like a hooker’s pants. I am no stranger to travel (9 years at sea will do that to you) and by now I have been to most of the worlds’ most ‘dangerous’ countries and ironically enough, the only place where I have been a victim of any petty crime is my home country of Canada (to make it more ironic, it was my second day home after 10 months in the Caribbean, Central America and South America, so called ‘dangerous’ places). I did make one mistake though, I watched the movie ‘Turistas’ a few years back, don’t watch it!

Deciding where to go in Brazil was very difficult. The country is so vast, there’s so much to do and each area is so culturally different then the other. The other issue is the distance. You can’t drive or take a bus from one place to another, most cities are so far apart that flying is the only option. Martha was still on the ship so I was left to my own devices to do the planning. We acquired some good friends in Brazil (former co-workers) which helped us plan out the trip. I skyped for hours with my dear friend Pedro planning every day of our Brazilian adventure. After tons of back and forth, the itinerary was set. Martha and I both fly to Rio de Janeiro overnight and spend a week there, then we fly to Salvador, 2 days there, bus to Chapada Diamantina where we’ll stay at Lencois. After Lencois we overnight bus to Salvador, fly to Ilheus and drive to Itacare. From Itacare we head back to Ilheus where we fly to Salvador, a day later we fly back to Rio and 2 days later we fly back home. Martha to Mexico City and me to Toronto.  This was a jam packed itinerary with countless hours of sleep lost, on the run meals and sleeping on busses and airport floors.  But you haven’t lived until someone mistakes you for a homeless backpacker in a Brazilian airport :)

Martha and I are the Rio airport after flying all night 

Our journey started in Rio de Janeiro. Both Martha and I flew all night long and reached Rio around 9am. Let me tell you how even after 9 years of constant travel, I absolutely despite night travel. Martha and I managed to rent a small apartment in Copacabana beach for a week for a mere $300. The owner was kind enough to take our belongings and hold them until we were able to occupy the apartment. We decided to take a walk on the beach while Duda prepared our apartment for us. The infamous Copacabana beach strip was just a block away. We were dead tired but it didn’t matter, I have finally made it to Brazil! It was October and just a bit over the 20C mark. Some days felt a little cooler but for the most part it was an ideal time to go. Weather was comfortable and it was low season so hotels, meals and travel was really affordable. So Martha and I went for a walk on the beach. 

Iconic sidewalk in Copocabana

Now Martha and I are both fluent in Spanish and everyone told us that we would have no problems communicating in Spanish and everyone in Brazil speaks it as a second language. Spanish my ass! Portuguese and Spanish may be very similar in the written form but are nothing alike in the spoken form. I admit it’s been a while since i’ve been to a country where I don’t speak a language and I forgot how frustrating it is when you can’t communicate well. What made it even more difficult is that Martha is lactose intolerant, having to ask if something has milk or cheese in it was a sight not to miss. The first couple of days we looked like ding dongs trying to order coffee without milk or pastries without cheese. It seemed like Rio had no idea what lactose intolerance was. Just as we thought that we had made a

connection between Spanish and Portuguese,

First moments on the Copacabana beach

out came a word out of nowhere that would dispel our new found knowledge in seconds.  Eventually we learned enough Portuguese to order milk free coffee, order food and beer, ask for the bathroom and (some) directions. Speaking of coffee, I should have listed to Ericka (Martha’s sister) as she was in Sao Paolo for business a week before. I absolutely love coffee and it turns out that Brazilian coffee is served in tiny portions. Thing about espresso sized tea cups but not espresso strength. Having been consuming american style lattes and cappuccinos, this was a challenge. I would order 3 coffees at a time and dumb them into the Starbucks mug I bought for Martha.

Brazilian lesson #1:  No one speaks Spanish in Rio

Brazilian lesson #2:  Spanish is nothing like

Portuguese

Brazilian lesson #3:  Coffee is served in tiny cups, bring your own tumbler

Brazilian coffee VS American Coffee

After a walk on the deserted beach and a quick bite at the market (which disappeared and never came back for the remainder of our trip), Martha and I strolled through the main streets. Eventually we got hella tired and returned to the apartment that Duda had prepared for us. The apartment was small but just enough for us. It had the most important things; wifi,  a kitchen and  a washing machine. The bedroom balcony pointed right onto the street and you could see Copacabana beach. 

https://www.airbnb.ca/rooms/1774152?euid=af0d08bd-91bb-c528-825c-5bcfd17f14a1&locale=en

Let me tell you how Rio doesn’t sleep, there was traffic all day and all night and the noise never stopped. I believe that Rio was even louder then Manhattan at night. If it wasn't traffic noises then we were hearing the sounds of Samba played by a group of friends sitting on the stoop of our apartment building enjoying drinks, conversation and music. Rio is just full of life all the time, I loved every minute of it. 

Brazilian lesson #4:  Rio traffic never, ever stops

That night we took it easy. We found a grocery store, got some food, local beer, snacks and settled in our apartment. In the evening, Martha and I went for another stroll along the beach. Even though it was Monday, people were everywhere. The iconic sidewalk was filled with families, lovers and people coming back from work.  During the day Cariocas (Rio residents) enjoy the beach, surfing and playing foot volley (combination of soccer and volleyball). The live, eat, work and play at the beach. At night it becomes a place where people train, work out, practice soccer, run, jog and of course father for caipirinhas with friends. What impressed me as well is that they have these stations all along the beach where you can do pull ups, push ups, dips etc and they were always being utilized. Along the sidewalk was a separate ‘road’ for cyclist, runners and skateboarders. Cariocas are always active, what a refreshing change!

As I took in the sights and sounds of Rio, I realized how little I stood out here with my fair freckled skin, green eyes and blond hair. I could same the same for Martha who is complete opposite from me with dark eyes, a tanned complexion and dark hair. Brazilian people are of every shade, color, shape and size, mixed in every possible way. Although I am from Toronto which is the world’s most multicultural city, it’s not often you see biracial couples and if you do it was usually  a black man with a white woman. But not in Rio, there was no ‘standard’ couple and there didn’t seem to be any stigma associated with dating someone of a different complexion then yours. The diversity of Rio is one that I have not seen anywhere else. It was not unusual to see a mulatto child with green eyes and a  blond afro.  Cariocas don’t see themselves as black or white or asian or mixed, they are simply Brazilian and that is it. 

Another thing I noticed is how proud everyone was to be in their own skin. It really didn’t matter  what size or shape you are, Brazilian women are proud of their bodies and are not afraid to show it in the myriad of colorful bikinis and sarongs. Their confidence was a refreshing and beautiful thing.  I am so used to hearing negative self talk from women in US and Canada, you would never hear it in Brazil. Women embrace their beauty in which ever size it may come and proudly display it.  I’ve always felt that it’s one’s confidence that makes them beautiful and Braziian women embodied this perfectly. 

Aside from the colorful bikins, Rio is the only other place on earth where I have found people to be as crazy about colorful tights as me haha. Most people make fun of me for my colorful gym attire which I end up wearing plenty of times outside of the gym. However, in Rio people were even more colorful then me! Except for my mediocre Portuguese skills, I fit right in Rio. Beach, fitness, strong drinks, colorful tights and a society that revolves around music, right up my alley!

Brazilian lesson #5:  Cariocas are the only other people that appreciate colorful tights as much as I do

Anyways, that night we were pretty beat from being up all night and traveling (13 hours of flying for me, not as many for Martha since she was coming from Mexico). We decided just to walk down the Copacabana beach strip and find a decent place to eat. We walked onto a patio that seemed fairly nice and we took a seat.  There was some music and they had an attractive menu. We had a few drinks to wind down and placed our order. As we love people watching, I realized there were quite a few attractive females are decked out like there were going clubbing downtown Toronto. As I pointed it out to Martha, we started to look around a bit more. There were a good dozen females decked out in high heels and club gear. We looked around the patio where we were seated, we were the only females here, it was all men. Ummmmm, yeah….our first night in Rio and we were having our dinner in a bordelo (brothel), hahahahaahahah. BUT I must say, the ladies of the night were dressed nicer them most of the clubbing females back home and the service was quite good.  Guess you haven’t lived till you’ve eaten at a brothel!

http://www.tripadvisor.ca/ShowUserReviews-g303506-d2561278-r156802957-Balcony_Bar-Rio_de_Janeiro_State_of_Rio_de_Janeiro.html

Our first official day in Rio, we decided to do a tour. Strangely enough there is no particular area, booth or center where you can get tourist info.  We ran into a random dude on the beach who had some attractive packages for the stuff we wanted to see. Seems like we picked the perfect time to go to Rio, it was off season and everything was quite affordable and the weather was just perfect!

Our tour took us to Christ the Redeemer, Maracana, the stairs of Santa Teresa, San Sebastian Cathedral and Sugarloaf mountain and some other places that I can not pronounce.  Our guide was bubbly and fun with slightly odd English. I would have just We learned how diverse Rio was with the amount of expats from all over South America that have immigrated there in search of employment. What I also loved was that I was never expected to tip anyone at any point. Unlike in the Caribbean where they make it ver obvious that they'd like to be tipped at the end because they don’t get paid otherwise. Any tip Martha and I gave was truly appreciated which made me want to tip even more. All the sites were beautiful and it was incredible to see all these ‘postcard’  places in real life. Needless to say between Martha and I, we had 4 cameras going. 

Brazilian Lesson #5: People will not harass the crap out of you for tips nor insist that you buy anything from them (what a refreshing thing this is!)

So as I was saying, some people we were able to understand as they spoke Portuguese to us and we spoke back in Spanish. We grew more confident as the time passed and picked up Portuguese words. Well then all hope was shattered when we went to have a caipirinha on the strip. Waiter dude opened his mouth and it might as well have been Chinese cause we got nothing and sadly, the service at the previous night’s brothel was better :)

Copacabana and Ipanema at night time are incredible. There’s all these open air bars and restaurants right on the beach. People are milling about, socializing, enjoying cocktails and meals with their friends after a day’s work. The beach is filled with people working out, training and doing drills. There is something so intoxicating when you are enjoying a caipirinha in Rio at the beach with the cool ocean air blowing in your hair. However, don’t have too many of these strong cachaca drinks because there are no restrooms where these bars are. There is one here and there that you have to pay for but for majority of my trip I was either looking for a bathroom and holding it for hours and kicking myself for having that cocktail or that local beer.

Local Cerveja (beer) in Copacabana

Brazilian lesson #6:  Good luck finding a restroom!

On October 8th we decided to go for a walk a block away from the strip and have breakfast at a French Bakery by the name of Boulangerie. Not sure how my Canadian cell had its map feature

working but without it, I’d probably still be in Rio looking for places. Luckily my cell’s maps worked and due to my internal human GPS being perma-broken, we were able to find all the restaurants, sites, bars, offices and subway stations that we needed to. We enjoyed a nice lunch with our server Mayk who was sweet and kind and told us that we did in fact speak Portuguese because we were able to understand him. So sweet of him but we were in fact just speaking Spanish. 

You know I couldn’t visit Rio without going into the favelas. We booked a favela tour with an organization that uses  a portion of the tour ticket prices to put back into the favela communities.  We visited two different ones. I don’t really know what I was expecting but I was pleasantly surprised. Despite my friends’ warnings that I’ll get robbed or shot, I came out in one piece. We first visited a school with the tour company funds. It’s an after school program where youth can learn other languages or spend their time doing arts and crafts to take them off the street. The center was gorgeous with a view outstretching to the mountains. I bought a couple of paintings that the students made. It’s kind of ironic that I keep buying these colourful paintings every country I go to because it’s not like I have an actual home and walls to hang them on. But i guess one day when I get over my claustrophobia of living in one place, I will have a house where I will hang them all. 

The school inside the favela

The school inside the favela

The first favela we visited was a lot neater and cleaner that I expected. There’s very little open space and it seems like one home is built on top of another. In between the concrete mess are little paths that people use to visit one another or to get out of the favela. As we walked through the mazes of neighbourhoods, I noticed that they’re all like little towns in their own way. There’s a local bar, a pool hall, a convenience store, there’s even a small church.  People were cooking and cleaning their homes with their doors open. Their homes were modest and basic but taken care of with pride. Smells of home cooked food filled the areas we walked past, religious artifacts and flowers adorned their kitchen tables and windows. Many of these people have been in the favelas for generations. They are not criminals or drug dealers, they are simple people with basic education and labour intensive jobs. They are honest and hard working and family oriented. Many of them feel a loyalty to the favelas as their families have been there for so long that they opt to stay as it’s the only type of life that they know. Needless to say, there wasn’t a single moment that I felt unsafe whilst I was there. I am sure that there are dangerous favelas in Rio but I did not have any City of God moments. Funny enough when I was telling friends I was going to Rio, all I hear was “Oh my God, you crazy? Haven’t you seen City of God?”.

The second favela which we visited was Rocinha, the largest slum/favela in Brazil if not in Latin America. Rocinha is more of a neighborhood as in the fact that it has actual streets and there’s transportation in and out of the area. There are schools and businesses and many buildings are a few stories high and made out of brick and concrete. I remember standing on the sidewalk and looking out and the tour guide simply told us “The may be the poorest of Rio but they have the best view”. Truth be told, we were looking out onto the Sugar Loaf Mountain.

Here’s an interesting piece on Rocinha:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpc5RVKK3f8

The tour wrapped up and since we fell in love with the Santa Teresa stairs (or Escadaria Selaron) and we decided to go back and take more photos. We decided to take the subway to Santa Teresa and although no one spoke Spanish nor English in the subway station they were still able to guide us in the right direction. The stairs were decorated in tiles by Chilean born painter and artist Jorge Selaron. The tiles were donated from people all over the world and it took the artist more than 20 years to complete the stairs which lead to the Convent of Santa Teresa. I could spend days on those stairs admiring the tiles from all over the world each with their own motifs and stories.  Ironically the painter who devoted his time to the stairs was also found dead on them years back, there are several different theories on reasons behind his death.  Martha was able to find some Mexican tiles and I was able to find the Canadian ones. 

It would hella hot outside so we ate some finger foods at a local joint and took the subway back to our apartment in Copacabana and decided to walk to Ipanema for lunch. Walking and touring the streets of Rio I noticed how incredible their graffiti was. Rather than the ones I find at home which are vulgar and ugly, their graffiti was more like art work. Colourful and beautiful.

We took the subway home and  decided to go walk to Ipanema.  There are posts along the beach starting right by our apartment all the way down to Ipanema and so forth. Along the iconic boardwalk you have carts full of different types of food. Everything from churros to pastels and acai bowls. I don’t know what’s in this Acai berry but it didn’t matter if i was tired, hungover or had a belly ache, one acai bowl and I was good as new. Anyways so we strolled down Copacabana past all the people milling around, sampling all the food and drink along the way. We tried to get in the water and based on the amount of people actually IN the water you would think that it’s warm. Oh hell no! Our tropical spoiled Caribbean behinds could not even get past our ankles into that arctic water. The water was cold, not just a little cold but REALLY cold. We just couldn’t get in and we actually didn’t get in any Brazilian waters until we reached Itacare further up north.  We had some dinner in Ipanema, we sat at an open air restaurant overlooking the beach. I love people watching and Rio is just amazing for that. Watching people hustle and sell their home made crafts, people from all over South America who were ‘viajar para viajar’ (traveling to travel). Cariocas out for strolls, socializing with their friends. Two men were selling pareos not too far from we were.  Both in their swimming trunks, one was sun tanning and watching their merchandise which was stretched out on the sand. The other one was running back and forth from their area to one of the ‘work out station’. He was getting his pull ups, pushup and dips done while on the job.   We went over to buy some pareos (sarongs) after and he told us that this was his job. This is what he does, sell sarongs at the beach, sun tans and gets a work out all at the same time. All of a sudden my very corporate job felt very unpleasant haha. 

We returned to our apartment early in the evening. We had booked a tour to for dinner and a samba show. We got all dolled up and ready to go and we waited and waited and waited for them to fetch us and it didn’t happen. My overly punctual and organized ass called them to find out what was going on and even though I don’t speak Portuguese and they don’t speak Spanish, I learned that the tour was cancelled and for some reason no one informed me. Well, they got an earful from me. That was pretty much the only unpleasant experience we had in Brazil. Unfortunately Samba Shows don’t run all week long so that was our only opportunity to have seen it.  

On the 10th of October, we booked a trip to Buzios. I believe it was a good 4-5 hour drive away from the bustling city of Rio de Janeiro. It’s a beautiful and picturesque sleepy town of just 20 000 people. Filled with cobble stone streets, beaches and family run pousadas (bed and breakfasts), this offered a breath of fresh air from the never ending traffic jams of Rio. Quiet and serene, I could see myself spending a lot more than just one day in a place like this. In my job (and at home) I am always surrounded by people, I am always being interrupted and I never have a moment for myself. Someone always wants my attention. Places like these exist in my day dreams where I simply walk the streets unknown and read books on the beach with a cold beer in my hand. Martha and I raided the Hawaiiana flip flop shop and bought flip flops for our little ones and of course ourselves (mine nearly killed me days later in Itacare - flip flops are not for hiking!). And aside from my rather expensive Victoria Secret bikini top breaking mid day (while I was wearing it), it was a relatively peaceful, calm and serene day.

We returned to our Copacabana apartment and decided to try to do laundry in our Brazilian washing machine. I passed out on our bed and Martha tried her best to follow the Portuguese instructions. I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom to find Martha sitting on the kitchen floor beside the washing machine almost sleeping. She did her best to do our washing but was petrified that our clothes would catch on fire cause the machine was getting so hot! Anyways, they did not catch on fire but we did as Duda our lovely host to perhaps include instructions in English for the washing for the benefit of non-Portuguese speakers.

Sometime in this crazy mayhem of a trip, we managed to visit Martha’s friend Paolo. He was a dancer and worked with Martha previously but has since retired from our company. Martha and I ventured off on the subway with my iPhone GPS in hand and made it out to his neighbourhood. It was only a few stops over but a good 15 minute walk from the station itself. Paolo was a delight and he welcomed us into his home. He hails from Petrolina which is in North East of Brazil, further than Salvador which is our next stop.  He told us when he first came to Rio he took the bus and it took him three days, so glad we are flying to Salvador.  He wanted to make us a home booked meal from his part of Brazil and made us Escondidinho, yeah, try to say that three times. Escondidinho (meaning little hidden one) was made with layers of yuca, cheese and dried meat and baked. It was just incredible. I ate until I couldn't eat anymore. I have always loved Yuca but this brought it to another level. We also had some sort of frozen pineapple dessert but the names escapes me.  As it was late at night, Martha and I took a taxi home. By now we knew exactly where we lived and how speak enough Portuguese to get us there in one piece. We were almost feeling like locals. 

On the 11th of October we packed up our stuff, hauled ass to the airport and flew to Salvador. The coolest and best way to order taxis in Rio is through a phone app and they’d arrive in minutes. You can actually watch your driver maneuver to your location through the app.  Back in my early years on ships, I met crazy Pedro. He worked the Purser Information desk and was one of three Brazilians on board. My crew consisted of my Canadian assistant and the three Brazilians. We spent the whole contract together including our two weeks of Dry Dock in Freeport, Bahamas. Let me tell you that Dry Dock is not much fun, it’s hot and uncomfortable and sleep is a luxury not a given right.  Nevertheless with my crazy bunch I had the time of my life.  My Brazilians didn’t come back after that contract and now I am the only one left on from our group. This was my first opportunity to meet with Pedro since 2009 and I couldn’t wait to see this crazy man.  I will forever be grateful to him and he helped me plan so much of my Brazilian trip and he spent countless hours skyping with me and calling and arranging flights and bus tickets and places to stay and taxis etc. He told me that he’d put together an itinerary for me that we’d never find in any guide book and I am so glad that I listened to him.

Our flight was a stupid o’clock in the morning, we did almost miss our flight because of they unannounced gate change but we made it. Pedro picked us up with his wife and his beautiful son Pedrinho. We went straight to one of Salvador’s most traditional restaurants Kimukeka and we ate one of their typical dishes Muqueca.  The servers were all dressed in traditional garb. Salvador was very different from Rio, this is the capital of Afro-Brazilians and of course the local culture, music, food and clothing reflects that.  It’s interesting that in other countries where i’ve visited you would find the similar occurrences of Afro people sustaining their culture, language, food etc while simultaneously thriving in their current communities. If you take a look at Cartagena in Colombia, their traditional dress was very similar to that of what the Kimukeka ladies were wearing.  You’ll find the same with the Garifuna of Honduras, they’ve even managed to retain their own language through the years. Anyways, Salvador is home to Capoeira, 365 churches (one for every day of the year), Colonial Architecture, Candomble and a myriad of colors and celebrations. Like other slaves who were brought over to Africa, they had to hide their native religion from those forcing Christianity upon them. Similarly to Santeria in Cuba, Candomble was formed with their Orixas (Gods) being hidden as Christian Saints. Needless to say that I blended very well in Rio, did not blend at all in Salvador. Pedro was constantly looking over his shoulder thinking that we were going to be robbed because he is with two ‘gringas’. 

Samba Street Jam

We strolled through the streets of beautiful colonial Salvador. It reminded me a bit of San Juan in Puerto Rico and Cartagena in Colombia.  The cobblestone street were narrow and steep. They were adorned with shops full of trinkets, art and handicraft. One particular thing that kept resurfacing were these colorful ribbons.  These ribbons were Afro-Brazilian lucky charms of sort, they are meant to be worn around your wrist for good luck. The different colors are related to the Condomble Orixas and have the words Lembrança do Senhor do Bonfim da Bahia on them (meaning a remembrance of Senor Bonfim of Bahia).  They are given to you by a friend or someone else, tied around your wrist three times and can not be taken off, the ribbon must fall off by itself. While we were at the market Pedro gave Martha and I these gorgeous bracelets that had symbols of Salvador as charms; a flip flop to represent the beach, an eye to ward off evil eye, the berimbau to represent their music, a closed fist to represent good luck, a hot pepper for good luck, a dolphin to represent the sea and U shaped charm to represent capoeira.  As we strolled through the streets of Salvador, my senses were overwhelmed with the vivid colors of the architecture, the streets and the stunning art work which was displayed in the shops and on the street. I have always made a point of buying a painting done by a local artist in every country I visit. One day I will have my own home and I will adorn my walls with these. 

Salvador is also home to Capoeira, a martial art that’s been developed by the African descendants and incorporates a lot of dance. Actually watching it you would think that it’s a dance or a game where opponents square off in the middle of the circle using swift kicks and jumps and missing one another by mere centimeters.

The following day Pedro, Virginia and Pedrinho picked Martha and I up. The took us to eat at per

kilo breakfast restaurant.  Many restaurants in Brazil are per kilo meaning you pay for what you collect on your plate. Brazilian cuisine contains a lot of manioc  which after many conversation we figured out was a word for tapioca. A complete week later we realized that it’s the same as Yuca.  Brazilian cuisine varies depending on where you are and the demographics of it’s people, it has European, African and Amerindian influences. Seems like there are pockets of cultures preserved in particular areas. Of course Brazil is also know for it’s steakhouses, meats and the incredible Acai berry and before more of you mispronounce it, it is read A-sah-ee:) 

Anyhow, we had an amazing breakfast and we headed over to Praia do Forte which is about an hour drive away.  It’s a beautiful and quiet place where families make the day trip to get away from the noise of busy Salvador. Palm tree laden paths are lined with stores, bars and restaurants. The breeze off the turquoise waters cools you down as you stroll amongst the smiling locals and Salvadorians.  Like most beaches in Brazil you will find families playing, eating and socializing. Generations flock together to make the most of the day as families. We also had a chance to see a turtle conservation effort at Projecto Tamar.  It was nice to see that such conservation efforts existed and that people were willing to financially support it.  After a day in the sun and a few adult beverages we headed back to Salvador to Pedro’s and Viriginia’s home.   Virginia  made us Brigadeiro which is so simple to make but so delicious and it is impossible to eat only one. Brigadeiro is made of condensed milk (which is pretty much a staple in most latin countries), powdered chocolate and butter.  It’s simply amazing and available just about anywhere.  Pedro helped us buy our bus tickets to the National Park of Chapada Diamantina in the town of Lencois, showed us where to go and took us back to our hotel. We crashed hard and had only a few hours of sleep before we were off to the next leg of our adventure.

On October 13th we got up at the wee hours of the day and made our way to the bus station in Salvador. Ahead of us we had a 6 hours bus ride to the town of Lencois. Pedro made all of the arrangements for us so everything should be good to go or so I thought. Now I do admit that when things don’t go right I have a tendency to panic. I panic for a good 2 minutes and then my logical thinking kicks in and I can assess the situation (same thing happened in the Triumph fire when I ran around the cabin trying to figure out what to wear). 

So we get to Lencois which is a small, sleepy town (and according to Pedro full of pot smoking hippies) close to Chapada Diamantina which is massive national park (over 1500 square km) in the heart of the Bahia state.  Pedro booked us in the Pousada encantos da chapada. We got off the bus  and asked the taxi driver to take us there. It was hot, we were tired and sweaty and in desperate need of a potty break. At first the driver told us that the place does not exist. He asked around, made some phone calls, drove around a bit and then we finally pulled up to the place just to see it completely locked up. Him speaking Portuguese, us speaking Spanish and then him calling all sorts of people and we finally sorted out that our reservation was never confirmed and that they are closed for renovations. He told us that he knows a place and that they have space. He drove us back through town and to Pousada alto do cajueiro. He was really nice and helped us with our bags and we tried to tip him extra for all that he did but he wouldn’t accept it.

This Pousada was up and above the town overlooking the square. It was situated in the middle of the forest and each room was like a small cottage. Our room was the furthest from the front desk.  We had our own terrace with a hammock and a stunning view. Of course no one spoke English or Spanish there but we just got used to this fact. We were quite removed from all other areas and the two ways out of the Pousada were either thought the dirt road which we came through or through the forest and downtown.  The front desk clerk showed us the way through the forest and we went for a walk. 

We were downtown within 7 minutes. Cobblestone streets, colorful homes, charming architecture. Ex pats and locals walking around selling trinkets and jewelry. It was quiet, charming and calm. As the sun went down we decided on having dinner at a all natural crepe restaurant. We sat right at a table on the cobblestone street and watched people walk by. I love people watching. People strolling, walking about and you wonder what their story  is and what brought them here and now. We finished the evening with a cocktail and headed back to our Pousada. As we neared the forest we realized that it’s absolutely pitch black in there and we’d have to walk on a narrow concrete wall. Not a big fan of things that go bump in the night so we ended up taking a taxi instead, better safe then sorry!

Our view from our Pousada in Lencois

On the 14th we did this incredible but very physically demanding tour. We went to Poco de Diablo, Gruta da lapa doce, Gruta Azul, Gruta do Pratinha, Morro do Pai Incacio and Alto do Pai Inacio. Basically we did a ton of hiking, climbing and caving. I have never done a tour so physically intense before and not anywhere in the description of the tour it mentioned it would be so difficult. Lucky for me I am a gym rat so although I did get tired, I was able to withstand the constant climbing. The tour was done mostly in Portuguese and we were the only non Brazileiros but by now we could more or less understand it. 

Our first hike wasn’t so bad. We did a gentler hike all on massive rocks and we went downward towards to take a dip in the river. It was hot though and somehow Martha and I found a beer stand int he middle of what seemed like the Brazilian Grand Canyon. 

The following adventure was a cave. Quite steep to get down and once we got in the cave it was pitch black. Equipped with flashlights, we had to follow the guide carefully and cautiously.  Of course because I am me, I had a few near misses when I stepped on sand covered rock. Luckily I regained my balance because I’d hate to tumble into some pitch dark depths and get hurt.

The hikes, caves and climbing got more and more intense each time. All I kept thinking about is the way that we sell tours on board and the warnings we give people about physical intensity and how this tour had none of it. However, I was surprised how everyone on the tour (including the senior citizens) were able to move swiftly and without any issues.  I guess that’s why you see Brazileiros always running, biking and walking. Their daily activities enable them to be a lot fitter then our society.  

So we were in the sun all day, sweating and climbing and pushing ourselves and of course drinking cold beer when we could to cool us down. After 8 hours I was sure that we were done but our guide brought us to our last spot. I seriously just wanted to just take my shoes off and chuck them somewhere and sit out our pousada and drink an ice cold beer.  This last hike was the worst! It was straight up a very rocky mountain. Each step wasn’t  a step, it was like a lunge and 2-3 foot step up. Of course there’s nothing to hold onto so the only thing you can rely on is the strength of your legs. One false move and your arse is tumbling down the side of this mountain till you crack something at the bottom. It was a good 30-40 minutes straight climbing without a rest. But let me tell you what an incredible view it was at the top. To say that it was incredible was an understatement!  The painful climb was worth it. We admired the view and watched the warm colors caress the sky as the sun set. The reds and oranges against the rugged landscape made the view seemed almost unreal, as if God himself had painted it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. What an incredible world we live in. How lucky I have been to be able to see and experience so many different places. With each breath I inhaled more gratitude and exhaled my petty worries and problems. Life is beautiful, life is incredible, life is meant to be lived vividly and coulourfully!

After the sun set, we were in a hurry to make the climb down before it got dark. To climb down was easier but I’ll admit that many a times I slid off a rock on my butt as I didn’t trust my legs not to give out. It was a full and beautiful day of course aside from me ripping a bunch of nails scathing at rocks haha. We came back to our Pousada and they had already closed up shop. No one was around and we were too tired to go to the downtown area to find food. We ate a bunch of the snacks, peanuts and candy that Pedro prepared for us and drank all the beer in the fridge. Checked our beds for scorpions and whatever else may lurk in there, put our shoes and bags off the ground and we went to sleep on our super uncomfortable rock hard beds. I was so beat though that it didn’t even matter, I was out like a light!

The following day we were so beat from the climbing and walking that we decided to take a chill out day. We had our breakfast at our Pousada and then leisurely walked around town and took photos. We bought some post cards for our families and found a lovely hotel named Canto de aguas that let us hang out for the day. The town post office wasn’t open until 1pm so we had time to sit and have lunch and a few cocktails. Well one cocktail led to another and at 5pm we decided to make our way to the post office. Hahahah well I guess the population of your town is so small then you don’t need to keep your post office open very long. It was only open from 1pm to 5pm and by the time we rolled up, it had already closed. Eventually we gave the postcards to Pedro’s wife Viriginia when we got back to Salvador. They were mailed shortly after we left but my Grandma in Poland didn’t get hers until April, six months later.

Anyhow, we strolled back to our Pousada, it was already getting dark. We noticed earlier that the light in our cabin wasn’t working very well. We explained this to the front desk clerk in our Portunol (mix of Spanish and Portuguese) and he just said that it happens sometime. Well we got back and we spoke to him again, he said he would check it out later. We also asked if he could make us pizza (the only item on the menu) around 7pm and if he could call a taxi for us at 10pm as we had to take the bus to Salvador at 11pm.

We came to the our secluded cabin and slowly started packing. Mind you it’s not easy to do when you’re almost in pitch black. But he told us he would come by and check it out and that’s what we expected. Now I do admit that I have an over active imagination. I have travelled to the world’s most ‘dangerous’ places and have never been harmed or robbed (well ironically enough I did get robbed in Toronto - my home town). I partially credit this to always trusting my gut feeling, partially to being confident at all times and partially that I don’t do stupid things when I’m abroad. Now a few years ago I made the mistake of watching the movie Turistas.  Have you ever seen it? If the answer is no then DON’T WATCH IT. I do spend most of the time traveling by myself and like I said I have an over active imagination.   The movie is about a bunch of youngsters that are backpacking Brazil. They get drugged at a party and wake up to see that al their belongings have been stolen. They accept help from a local who ends up taking them to the forest to his Uncle’s house but what he really did is lead them to an organ theft ring and they are to have their organs removed for the benefit of the Brazilian people. To make a long story short they spend the rest of the movie trying to get away.

Back to Martha and I in Lencois. We are in the pousada and it’s completely dark outside now. I take a shower int the dark because the light is not working in the bathroom. The light in the cabin now is very dim but somehow our wifi is still working. I figured that we would get something to eat and take a quick nap before we head to the bus. We have to travel all night by bus and arrive in Salvador in the early hours of the morning. We have about 5 hours at the airport in Salvador to fly to Ilheus and then take a drive to Itacare.  I asked Martha to go speak to the front desk clerk to get us our food. Martha left and quickly came back, the clerk was gone. He closed up shop and didn't tell us and we were not the only ones at the pousada. All the other guests have checked out and the snobby couple we met at breakfast was out.

Okay. Breathe Nat. Don’t Panic. Everything will be fine. There wasn’t really any way for us to eat now so we ate Pedro’s stash of candy, peanuts and chips.  I was getting a bit tired but I was all packed and ready to go. It was now pitch black outside and it seemed like it got even darker after I found out that we were the only ones there. The cabin was removed and the furthest in the woods from all the cabins there. I could hear the crickets outside the window, the only thing that was separating us from the wilderness was the thin mosquito screen that could easily be removed by pretty much anyone. My imagination was kicking into high gear now. We were alone, no one knows we are here, our reservations were somewhere else. I left my itinerary with Kathy at home and of course she didn't know about this hiccup. We trusted the taxi driver to bring us here and we didn’t really ask any questions. We told the front desk clerk that we wanted food and a taxi and he just left us alone here. We are in the middle of this pitch black forest and we can’t even see 3 feet away from the cabin. There weren’t homes anywhere close to us, I could see their lights flickering in the distance. We were on our own. If anything was to happen, we would not be able to get any help.  There are two ways into town from here. Either going through the short cut in the forest or going down the dark unlit dirt road. Either way was completely dark and it wouldn’t be easy for us to leave. I just want to get out of here, this place was giving me the creeps.

Then the unthinkable happened. The power went out completely, everything shut down. I looked at Martha with wide eyes, she read my mind. “Nata don’t panic, it’s probably the whole area, just take a look outside”.  I opened the door to the cabin  and poked my head outside. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I realized that it was just us, the homes in the distance still had lights. I stiffened and commanded Martha “Pack your shit right now”. A million things were going through my mind. This is it. It’s over. Two foreigners trapped in a secluded cabin. They’re going to come and cut us up like sushi and sell our organs. F***. We can run. Martha and I are runners, we train all the time. But where are we going to run to? It’s pitch black. I don’t know the way, we don't have flashlights. No one is close to us. No one will hear us if we yell for help. 

Martha’s shit was all packed. I grabbed my cell phone and dug out the taxi driver’s business card. I need to get the hell out of here. I didn't care how expensive the call was at this point, I just needed to leave. They picked up immediately and in a panic I somehow managed to spit out in broken Portuguese that I needed a taxi. We bolted out of the cabin, left the door wide open, threw our keys in the direction of the front desk and took off with all of our shit.  The taxi was already on it’s way, I could see it in the distance. The driver pulled up, we threw our shit into the drunk and sped away. I was sweating like a fat kid chasing an ice cream truck.  We sped downtown and the driver dropped us off at the bus station. I think I only started to breathe again at that moment when we pulled into a well lit place full of people. 

I can laugh at it now but I was certainly not laughing at it then. And THAT my friends is the reason why you should never, ever watch Turistas if you travel and have an over active imagination. By the way, when I read about the movie when I got home, it turns out that most of it was actually filmed in Lencois, go figure!

So that night we took the overnight bus back to Salvador. We left about 11pm and I think we arrived to Salvador sometime around 6am. We took a taxi to the airport, bought pretty sparkly flip flops and ate acai berry cups.  You would think that people at the airport would speak English but no such luck. Anyhow by now I have acquired some hybrid messed up version of Portunol and I was good to go. I was quite tired so I ended up falling asleep on the floor of the airport waiting for our flight, half propped up on the wall and half on the floor.  Our flight to Ilheus (don’t ask me to pronounce it because I still can’t) was only about an hour. Pedro’s friend arranged transportation for us via taxi from Ilheus to Itacare, about an hour drive away. Pedro said once we reached Itacare (which by the way you can not find in any tourist guide as he promised) we would have wished we spent our entire Brazilian vacation there, he was right.

Passed out at the Salvador Airport

The ride from Ilheus and Itacare was peaceful and beautiful. We were the only ones on the road. Our driver was driving quite fast, the windows were open and the breeze was washing away the tiredness of our trek.  The road was alongside the ocean and lined with palm trees. Every ounce of my body was now relaxed and at ease, I could breathe better and deeper. 

Our view driving from Ilheus to Itacare

We arrived at Itacare to find a charming town alongside the beach lined with cobblestone streets and modest homes. There weren’t many cars on the road, most people were walking all of them donning the infamous Hawaiianas.  Itacare is a town of 27 000 on the Cocoa coast, her residents living mostly in rural areas. Life here is slow and relaxed. People are friendly, food and drink are plenty. People work only when they need to, strangers are kind and Brazilian reggae fills the air.  You’ll see people on bicycles with their surfboards attached at the side. Sunkissed skin, dreads and good vibes everywhere. I saw this on the tourist web site and I couldn’t say it better myself: “If Itacare was a song, it would carry the bass line of the hottest funk rhythm, the melody of a beautiful love ballad and the lyrical prose of your favorite Bob Marley tune”.

We reached the main square in Itacare and our driver couldn’t find our Pousada. Here we go again, if Pedro messed up this time again I will break off my size 11 foot off in his arse.  After asking a few of the locals, our driver was able to find our Pousada Shambala. We pulled in and the place looked peaceful and calm. No one at the Pousada spoke Spanish nor English but we managed to get checked in. After 16 hours of travel, we were really ready to relax.

The grounds looked clean and tropical. The front desk clerk led us through a stone path all the way to the back of the property and past the pool. I looked up to find a private cabana for Martha and I. This place was like out of a dream! The cabana was located next to the pool and had a winding wooden staircase. It was one massive room with three of the walls being all windows with a 180 degree balcony.  One windowed wall faced the ocean, the other the pool and the third faced the Pousada grounds. The ceiling was high, the room bright and full of light. The ocean breeze was blowing the light white curtains up in the air. Decorative pillows were scattered on the wooden floor and a four post bed was adorned with a canopy I dreamed of when I was a little girl. The room looked like it was taken out of an episode of cribs, it was just amazing. What was even more incredible was the low price that we paid for it! I magically and instantaneously forgave Pedro for the Lencois mess up.

We quickly refreshed ourselves and went looking for food. The front desk clerk gave us directions to the centro (downtown) and we went walking. We had no idea where we were going and we had to ask for directions at least three more times. We decided to walk along the beach and eat at the first place that looked appetizing. We came across this charming and chilled out restaurant whose names escapes me. There were comfy white water facing couches on their deck, white tent like sheets were giving us shade and the chill out tunes of DJ Trusty were keeping us company.  The menu was simple but ample and pricing was done by bowls. You paid for the 3, 4 of 5 meal experience and the price was set, you picked whatever you wanted.  I immediately fell in love with the place, chill out vibes, cold caipirinhas, beach view and food so damn good that we had to upgrade from the 3 bowl experience to the 5 bowls. Our server sat with us and chatted a bit, we learned she was from Greece and was getting married soon. The food was just incredible. We ate until we couldn’t move and downed caiprinhas until we could. We sauntered back to our pousada and passed out into a deep sleep in our dreamy canopy bed.

Pedro was telling us that we needed to go to Havaizinho (little Hawaii) and Itacarezinho beaches. We got up out of bed to find that they prepared a lavish and fresh breakfast just for us, I didn’t realize that we were actually the only guests in the pousada. The breakfast was served to us in the fresh air right by our cabana. Traditional Brazilian foods like tapioca were accompanied by fresh fruits, pastries, breads and rich coffee.  We packed our backpacks and spoke to the owner who called her taxi driver friend to take us to the beaches. An older gentleman picked us up and took us there. The drive was about 20 minutes. He told us that we would have to walk about 20 minutes down a path to the beach and that it was a popular surfing spot. He said we could take the path along the beaches to take us to Camboinha and then eventually Itacarezinho where we can find a restaurant to have something to eat. 

Mind you everyone kept telling us that we could walk to these beaches so of course I wore my Hawaiiana flip flops, my tankini and a dress over it. We bought a couple of beers at the road side stand and went on our way. The walk to  Hawaizinho was  a pleasant one, we went through the forest and met a bunch of surfers coming back. Apparently a big surfing festival was about to take place. We reached the beach and it was absolutely stunning. It did incredibly resemble the tropical raw beauty of Hawaii.  There wasn’t much of sand but there was plenty rocks, palm trees and surf. We took tons of photos, bought another beer from the tapioca stand and we found the path to lead us to Itacarezinho.

At first the path was just a basic dirt path through the grass. This quickly changed to sharp rocks. Keep in mind this was supposed to be a walk (as so I was told) and I was wearing flip flops. I kept slipping on the rocks but managed to catch myself in time before I did any serious damage. On my right I had the lush forest and on my left  I had the rocky drop into the choppy ocean, I really didn’t want to fall. I kept slipping every few minutes so eventually I had to take off my flip flops and walk barefoot. This also was not fun cause the rocks and gravel were cutting into my feet and I was praying to sweet baby Jesus that a snake wouldn’t cross my path because I’d surely lose it. I was cursing under my breath and struggling with this so called walk and of course voicing my pains to Martha. It seemed like we were going forever and we weren’t getting anywhere. I was beginning to think that maybe we were going in the wrong direction. By now we were the only people here on this secluded path and of course my cell had no service and no GPS to show my on maps where we were. As I was loudly complaining about the pain in my feet, Martha voiced ‘This just keeps getting better and better’. Great, what now? Well all of a sudden the path stopped and there was a drop to the gorgeous beach below. To get there you have to grab hold of this Tarzan rope and repel down. WONDERFUL!  F words were not flying right left and center.  I threw down my backpack and went repelling barefoot. I don’t know how I did it, but I did.

The beach was completely deserted. We were the only ones there. We set our stuff down and took a dip in the gorgeous water. It was so secluded and beautiful, Mother Nature at her best. We sat down on the white sands and admired the majestic view before us.  We shared some dried fruit as we were hungry and have yet to find this magical restaurant our driver promised us. We were really secluded from everyone, I told Martha that I feel like we are on Survivor Brazil eating the rest of whatever we have to eat and scavenging to find society (and food) again. I was convinced we were going the wrong way but then again my internal GPS is always off.  

Eventually we got up and continued. I tried to walk again with my flip flops on but the amount of close calls I had with slipping and rolling my ankles that I had to take them off. The sharp rocks and gravel continued but there were also some creeks and trees we had to cross on our way. One wrong move and my sweet ass would be tumbling down to the rocks below which adorned the choppy ocean with her rough waves. Eventually we got to a dirt road filled with more tiny sharp rocks and it led us to  a steep dirt road embedded in the forest. Fifteen minutes later we came to a clearing that opened up to the stunning Itacarezinho beach. Finally!

The beach had a restaurant with large grounds, you bet we were going to eat our hearts out after our Survivor Brazil adventure. We ate and drank like proper queens and we had an amazing server. Our driver’s son came to pick us up at around dinner time. Let me tell you, we got a driver upgrade.  Junior was tall, tanned, tattooed and a surfer. We could barely understand him but we figured out that Pituba was the place to be this evening.  

We came back to our Pousada, showered and went out looking for food. While searching for our favorite bowl experience restaurant, we bumped into Junior’s Dad who told us to get in as he was going to take us to a  good place. He took as to Pituba and refused to take our money for payment. Pituba  was one long street that was lined with restaurants, shops, bars and discos but it still had  quaint and homey feeling to it. We walked to strip and settled on eating crepes at this green restaurant. The town was surprisingly very eco friendly.  I also ended up finding a store full of colourful workout gear and I picked up 5 pairs of incredibly colourful tights for a mere $50.  We strolled Pituba with capirinhas in our hands and took in all the sounds and sights of the weekenders.  Brazilian reggae was blasting on the street. Fruit, smoothie and drink stands were set up outside. There were some students selling home made brigadeiro and their handicraft jewellery. Pedro is right, I wished I could stay here for my entire Brazilian trip. Sooner or later I will come back to charming Itacare. 

Streets of Pituba

We headed home around 11pm but were not able to find a taxi. We went into the hostel beside the taxi stand and the clerk called his manager who spoke English. He told us that the taxis stop running at 10pm but that if we wait a few moments, he could take us there. We waited around and he took us across town and to our Pousada. He told us he is Brazilian but has grown up in France and has come back as his Mom owns the hostel and she went to travel.  We got talking about international customers and he confessed that he loves Canadians but that Mexicans get into too many drunken fights haha. 

On the 18th we got up in the morning, had our breakfast outdoors and took advantage of the rest of the time we had left in Itacare. We jumped in the pool and drank the rest of the beer in the fridge. Mid day we got ready, packed up and headed back to Ilheus in our taxi. We blasted music the whole way back and enjoyed our last adult beverage before we boarded our flight to Salvador. Pedro picked us up at the airport and took us out to eat in the centro (downtown). We were strolling to the restaurant and tried some street food along the way. The restaurant looked over the water and was famous for its sunset. We ate crepes, had a few drinks and enjoyed the stunning sunset in the fortress restaurant. 

Salvador's sunset

I shared a few more trips down memory lane with Pedro and he drove us back to the hotel. The ship world is such an incredible world. I have learned so much and have met so many incredible people like Pedro. Pedro and I don’t talk every day, sometimes we don’t talk even for months.  I follow him and his family adventures on Facebook and he does the same for me. But even after not seeing him for years, we were able to pick up our friendship exactly where we left it.  I don’t know when I’ll see Pedro again and if I ever will. But I know that I always have a friend in Salvador and he knows that he will always have me as a friend wherever I may end up.  The kind of people I have met, people like Pedro will open their homes and hearts to you and bend over backwards with hospitality to make you feel at home. I will never be able to thank Pedro enough for helping us plan everything and spending so much time and energy on making sure that Martha and I were enjoying ourselves and we were comfortable.  I have the bracelet that he gave me and I wear it every day. When people ask me where I got it from, I tell them that my Brazilian  brother gave it to me. Thank you Pedro for everything. Even though months go by without us talking, our friendship will always withstand the test of time and you will always have a Canadian sister just a phone call away.  

We flew back to Rio and checked into our air bnb Copacabana apartment. Duda the owner was nice enough to rent it to us for a day and a half even though he normally rents for a minimum of 4 days.  We went walking/eating/drinking along the beach. We started out by our apartment in Copacabana at the beginning of the beach and slowly made our way to Ipanema.  We would stop to watch people play sports or see handicrafts made by the locals. We’d stop to have a beer here and there or to eat a churro or acai cup from the street vendors. We walked taking in all the sounds and sights of Rio in all it’s glory. We came to an open air restaurant in Ipanema, sat, had a few drinks and watched the sun set in the distance over the mountains. There are no words nor no photo that can capture the raw and tranquil beauty of the sun setting in Ipanema. It is something you simply have to experience for yourself.

Once the sun set, we went to a proper Brazilian steakhouse. It was our last night in Brazil and we were going all out.  The restaurant was phenomenal. The waiters all decked out in proper suits, the bartenders and host in tuxedos.  They gave us a card to flip to green if we wanted meat and to flip to red if we wanted to take a break. The salad bar was lavish but we were not in any veggie eating mood, we came to eat meat and that’s exactly what we were going to do. The waiters kept coming our way with succulent meat. They took the time to joke with us and try their best at speaking Spanish to us. The barman would wheel over his drink cart and prepare our orders by hand right in front of us. Everything was top notch and we ate, drank and laughed like royalty.  It felt like we just had a $400 dinner but to our surprise, it was just a bit over $70 for the both of us.

We were full, happy, thankful and grateful for everything that Brazil had shared with us. As we slowly walked back along the Copacabana beach sidewalk, we reflected on our experience in this beautiful country.

Brazil is nothing like what everyone thinks it is.  Nobody robbed us, no one approached us, we were not pick pocketed or victims of petty crime nor did anyone try to kidnap us and sell us into the sex trade. Not at any point did I feel threatened or unsafe.

Instead we found a country full of warm and hospitable people that welcomed us to their land and their culture. A culture so distinct, colorful and rich that words can not express it.  Brazil is full of sounds and tastes and music and color. A country so diverse and yet so unified. Brazilian people are proud people. They take pride in everything that they do: in their language, music, cuisine and culture.  They are comfortable in their skin and ooze confidence and beauty regardless of their outside appearance. They value family and friends and spend time enjoying each others’ company. They walk and bike everywhere they can, they stop to smell the roses and to take in each and every single day as it comes. They are happy people and they exude positive energy and life. I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to make my dream come true and to visit this breath taking land and to learn about her people. 

To be Brazilian is to truly live not to simply exist.

Brazil……..is……. Life. 

Obrigado Brazil, Saudade!