Dancing in the Streets and Going Home….

We had timed our visit to Brazil for three reasons. The first was our virgin ‘Overland Bikers Meeting’ just across the Iguazu Falls in Foz. I understand the interesting use of the two words ‘virgin’ and ‘bikers’ in the same sentence but this is not what you think. Rather than the hairy, leather clad debauched gathering seen in the movies, us overlanders are a considerably more staid mob. Our machines are geared for fuel economy and the precarious loads carried than for ear shattering noise and fear. Having said that our ride out to the nearby and largest dam in South America, Itaipu, was over 100 riders strong. As we passed through the streets with our very own police escort we were the subject of many an open-mouth stare and cell phone picture.

which one to choose?

this was only a fraction of the total bikes

That night we were treated to our very first Brazilian BBQ. For the past 8 hours two men had tended the flames surrounding 5 huge sides of beef. The result, meat that was held on to the ribs they came with almost by gravity alone. I could have traded in my knife for a spoon. I am told the salads were good also, I didn’t waste my time there!

eight hours well spent

apparently there are no vegetarians in Brazil

After a couple of nights in the campground it was time to leave. My self-appointed role as pool cleaner had earned me a free beer or two but I could tell my welcome was growing thin.

Next stop was Urubici to meet up with a new friend, Marcus. He couldn’t fit us in to his hotel (or we couldn’t fit the bill into our wallets) and we were led to a nearby locals place with a barn for us to pitch our tents in. A couple of days chillin’ and kickin’ Trevor’s butt at pool and a nice ride around the local curves it was time to move yet again.

barn + tent = as close to being inside as we have been for a long time

now this is a good road

Our second reason for the Brazilian timing was Carnivale. The Rio one was way out of our price range, talk about supply and demand, Dorm beds were going for US$1000/week. Yes, that’s $142 a night to share a hot, stinking room with a bunch of not so hot Germans and Israelis with bad manners and worse personal hygiene!

So we chose Florianopolis to see the festival. After wandering around the street party we found a ticket scalper to get some tickets for the ‘Samba-Dome’. Yes, that’s right, a specially designed and built stadium for the good people to shake their booty along. Unfortunately in true South American fashion it didn’t start until 1am and continued for the next 4 hours. Each of the 4 samba schools had an hour to make their way along the 500m passage, their twirling costumes, scantily clad lead dancers and trailing streams of members all dancing to the same song for one entire hour. I think it melted Carlies’ brain as even now, one week after the event she still cant rid herself of the droning tunes.

Brazilian party

one of the many intricate floats

Again we were treated to a typical example of Brazilian hospitality as we were taken under the wing of another group of motorbike riders for a day for visiting people, BBQs and beers! And the hospitality didn’t stop there as we were soon to meet George. After putting out the request for a place to leave the bike for a couple of months, I met him in a bikers forum online. Before we knew it we had a bed for as long as we needed it, place for Zora and a new friend.

fitting a kite string catcher

coastal road

adventurers

But of course, the third reason for visiting Brazil was that we had a ticket home booked, paid for and anticipated. So here I sit, sleep deprived and typing over my fourth coffee, not knowing the actual time in some soulless mall in LA while Carlie skips around with handfuls of cash. But it will be great to be back, even if only for a short time. I wander what my dog looks like now, here’s a before shot….

see ya soon girl!