Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro

A prostitute kisses me as I walk out of the grocery store holding bags in both hands. For a moment, her greasy lipstick soothes my sun-chapped lips. She sticks her hand in my pocket. “Call me,” she says before disappearing into the crowd. I set down my bags and feel...

Jericoacoara: You Can Call Me Jeri

Just my luck…we nickname this man, “You for Scuba,” from the movie, “Along Came Polly.” Mare has yet to see his face, hidden by long locks of bronze hair draping down his brown chest and ending just above his six-pack. Oh yes, he sells the white-tissue clothing that...

Leaving Venezuela: Back to Brasil

We wake with slight headaches, after a celebratory night full of good-byes to our new friends. While sharing breakfast with Ben, from the Netherlands, (I don‘t mention coffee houses) our host, Eric gets called away on an emergency. He summons a helicopter to rescue a...

The Kindness of Strangers

Busses zoom past us, jockeying through traffic congestion…about 25 busses per minute. Mare and I swelter in the Amazon sun which vaporizes the recent downpour. We understand not a word of Portuguese. The sweat from our backpacks pulls our pants down. Finally, we board...