Amigos de Coração pt. 2

I made friends with a few girls whom I met outside of the club. I went inside with them as Thomas and Ari went to retrieve the rest of the cash. They never returned. I spent the night dancing with Indian descendant women in their early twenties grinding out to the Electro-Funk stylings of MC Negão and the Funkeiras. I figured Thomas and Ari spent the night by themselves listening to the rap stylings of Devin The Dude, as has been a popular pastime on our trip. I got home at 5 O’clock and was extremely soaked because of the heavy rains. I woke up at 8 O’clock with a knock on the door from the receptionist; our ride to go on one of the popular excursions would be there to pick us up at 8:30. I was just a little tired, as I didn’t drink because they didn’t accept credit cards and I had no cash, however because of Thomas and Ari’s vodka filled night, waking up proved to be easier said than done. We ate breakfast and then hustled to get into the van. We left the town center, rumbling down red dirt roads, the van packed with tourists from The Czech Republic, Italy, and Brazil. Our first stop was a huge hole called Buraco das Araras. It is as the guidebook says, forgettable. The sole highlight was the Red Macaws that flew from side to side of the enormous abyss. The hole was located on private property and was used previously as a car, trash, and even body depot. When they turned the hole into a tourist attraction and they cleaned out the bottom they found over 20 corpses. After the hole tour we went to one of the main attractions of Bonito, Rio da Prata. Rio da Prata is a river also located on private property that because of high levels of calcium in the water and riverbed the water is crystal clear. We all dressed in wetsuits, hopped into a truck and walked through the humid rainforest until we plunged into the water. They gave us snorkels and we explored the unique waters. We rented a camera for 50 reais and documented the entire experience. We floated down the 2 KM of river encountering various types of fish of all shapes and sizes, at times hovering inches above the river floor and at times having a deep bottom beneath us. The pictures say more than I can, but it was the closest I’ve ever felt to being a fish, (with the exception of that one time somebody slipped me that pill in my drink) We got back to the hotel and there was a raucous party across the street that I wanted to take pictures of. Before I could even cross the street and take out my camera, they were enthusiastically motioning for me to come to the party. Once I arrived I quickly realized that if they stopped drinking right then and I drank for the rest of the night I still wouldn’t be as drunk as they were. Thomas has described them as a bunch of hick Mexicans. The West of Brazil borrows and contributes a lot of culture from Bolivian and Paraguayan cowboys, which results as a hybrid hillbilly. The men wore cowboy hats and boots, the women wore inebriated smiles, and loud Brazilian country music blasted and blared out of a pickup truck parked in front of the house. They invited us to stay for dinner, we accepted and we went around to the back of the house. They entertained us with a charming pooch that leaped teeth first to clench on to a hanging tire, which one of the hosts boasted the dog could do for five or more minutes. The drunken grandmas insisted we dance with them. Thomas’ dance card was quickly filled and the host grandma took a strong liking to him. Her grandson, or some random relative told Thomas of her powerful crush and Thomas said he wasn’t interested in said Grandma. The guy called Thomas a homosexual and that if he ever comes to the United States he will have no qualms about having sex with anything that moves or breathes, young or old, skinny or fat, etc. He then told Thomas he would have sex with his sister, Thomas told him he didn’t have a sister. He ignored this comment and said he would get her pregnant. He then stumbled off and the grandma’s returned. One particular grandma would bash a bottle on the ground before drinking, pouring or moving. It was only a matter of time before she broke a glass. The grandma’s got drunker as we got more uncomfortable and we began to brainstorm exit strategies. The host grandma was passionately falling for Thomas; Thomas was desperately trying to leave as we figured their extended hospitality would perceive our exit as rude. One of the most drunken grandmas said she would feel so sad and depressed when we left; she called us Friends of the heart over 30 times. Eventually the party naturally ended. And we could leave, but not without breaking a few hearts in the process.