i was dropped off exactly as he said, at a T in the road with no signs, and no lights. Nothing but stars. At most, we'd passed a single other car during our dark drive. There wouldn't be much hope for another ride. i waved off the driver in the glow of his brake lights and tossed my bag over my shoulders. Alone, i marched.
Despite the littering of fireballs in the sky, the road ahead could not be darker. The weight of my backpack dug into my shoulders as i dragged my feet slow along an abandoned stretch of highway. If you could even call it that. Only nine miles to Bolivia. Or was it seventeen? It was hard to understand the driver of my last ride.
i wished i could throw away some of my luggage. Or all of it, if possible. But who knew what i may need in Bolivia? It would be so unwise, yet such a relief not to carry the weight. Over the last few months i’d been praising Kerouac for setting me free- though i never imagined in exchange for empty schedules and the road i’d be chained to a heavy backpack.
Where was i going to sleep? It was too dark to see much of anything other than stretches of vegetation. Maybe i could find a field? i knew i was entering an area called the Pantanal, but did not know much about it other than this was the beginning of the Amazon. i glanced over to the side of the road and saw what looked like a creek. Everything looked wet, and i worried about what sort of creatures may be about. With only a sleeping bag and yoga mat to shelter me, i had to hope for something dry pushing forward. What choice was there other than to walk on? Few cars would be going by this late, and if any did, i would be shocked if they stopped for a stranger this late, especially in Brazil. This was the hiking part of hitchhiking. And this was going to take hours.
Might as well make the most of it, the only thing i could change was my perspective. i unpacked my guitar, and buckled my bag over my hips to distribute the weight around my body. Like a minstrel song echoed my steps while i strolled into the night. In the distance i saw a small light from a farm house deep in a field, too far to reach, though it still gave me comfort, gave me hope. i smiled, this was it, this was the road, this was adventure. With song and smile my attitude changed, and with it the skyline. A blazing light peeked from the horizon, and an astounding golden moon rose.
A sure sign of providence i moved with a renewed vigour, awashed in moonlight and gratitude i sang on. Songs by The Pixies, The White Stripes, and Violent Femmes. Despite how exhausting the past few days had been, i felt so fortunate that things had worked out. Sure, a long trek ahead, but considering the thousands of kilometres i'd come across, this was nothing. i had been hungry, but not robbed, i'd had sunburns, but shared great conversations. Tonight i had moonlight, but most of all i had hope. i'd get to the border one way or another, and from there things should get a lot easier.
i was naïve imaging that Brazil would be within my budget, and took comfort that i wasn't alone in my thinking. Every other backpacker i had spoken to had expressed their surprise with how expensive things had been as well. The ones who had visited Bolivia had sung its praise. They said food and accommodation was so cheap it bordered on ridiculous. i prayed they were right.
Headlights! My thumb went up, and the car went by. Blinded by their high-beams, i blinked back the darkness unfazed. Truth told, it wasn't likely i'd pick up a dirty hitchhiker in Panatal either. Especially under such a moon. Nothing to do but soldier on. With luck, i'd make it to the border in a few hours. If they weren't open i’d curl up and sleep on the door until someone arrived. Which almost sounded like a luxury. And if my feet were too worn out before then, i'd find some shoulder or flat area to rest at. It was fine. i was so close!
An hour or so passed and the catalogue of songs i knew had completed, i started again from the top. As i reached the chorus of 'Where is my Mind' for the second time headlights split the darkness around me. i dropped my bag, stuck out my thumb, and smiled. As expected the car drove right past me. i let my arm drop and a sudden wave of red from brake light's poured over me. i heard the roar of gravel as the vehicle came to an abrupt stop while i shielded my eyes. i couldn't believe my luck! i sprinted to the the truck and leaned into the glorious beam of light coming from the passenger window. i began my Portuguese pleasantries “Obrigado! Thanks so mu-” and then i went cold. i wasn’t looking a person, i was speaking to the barrel of a gun.
My hands rocketed up and i stared dumbfounded. In utter shock yelling voices seemed so distant, and alien. Was i going to die in these Brazilian swamps? Was i about to lose all my things? How could this happen when things were finally going well again?
Flashing red lights, and the slamming of car doors brought me back to reality. In the strobing crimson four soldiers had surrounded me, machine guns drawn. i took a breath of relief, at least they were military, maybe they’d be reasonable, maybe they won't rob and kill me.
An onslaught of harsh Portuguese began. “i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i speak English! My passport my passport!” i pointed at my bag with my raised hands. The soldier nearest to me nodded and i moved as slow as i could, reaching down with one hand while the other remained raised. With a bit of a struggle i unzipped my bag and handed over my documents.
A flashlight hit me in the eyes then moved to my papers, “Canadian?”
“Yes”
“What doing here?”
With the few words of Portuguese i knew, and broken English, i tried explain how i'd run out of money and was trying to hitchhike to Bolivia. Two of the soldiers began tearing my bag apart. My stern interrogator kept his flashlight on me, and would interpret at random to someone more senior over his shoulder. We went back and forth while i tried to explain my, now idiotic, fascination with hitchhiking and unorthodox adventure. i shrugged a lot, and played the dumb tourist card, which for the first time in my life, i felt was both well deserved, and mine to keep. Satisfied with their search, their tones softened.
“You must go back Caceres. Sleep Caceres. Hotel. Tomorrow, Bolivia ok.”
“But, i have no way to get there. Even then, i don’t have the money to stay anywhere. It’s taken me hours to get to here from Caceres, it will take hours to get back, can't i keep walking?” i pleaded.
It took us a while to struggle through my predicament. Back and forth through bad translations, and charades. They tried to explain how dangerous this area was. From the animals, and insects, to bad drivers, and criminals, and to top it all off, i was much further from the border than i thought i was. According to them, there was no chance i could make it on foot. i was relentless in optimism and my lack of options. As the conversation continued, the guns began to go away. Though their insistence that i would be devoured never feigned.
Silent, i thanked any and every God that i wasn't arrested, and that they seemed to be getting comfortable with me. i told them i'd simply sleep on the side of the road again, and they all groaned. This time two soldiers charaded giant animal's jaws with their arms, their fingers daggered teeth, and pointed at me. They had no doubt i would be eaten alive. i flexed my arms and told them not to worry, and suddenly the soldiers were laughing. At my joke, as much as at me and my biceps. They spoke amongst themselves, and finally one asked “ok, you sleep in car?”
i couldn't believe my ears, “Yes! i can sleep in a car! Thank you thank you thank you!”
"Not nice. Broken car," he tapered expectations, and with a smile "but no eaten."
And like that i was speeding down the small highway, sandwiched between two soldiers in the middle seat while they all joked with me, shook my hands, and told me to pay attention to the odometer and how far i would have had to walk. The music turned up, someone cracked a bag of chips and passed it around. i was elated. This was madness, and i couldn't be happier as they floored it to the frontier. Out of nowhere the two in the front seat started hollering and pointing to the road. For a split second i saw a shadowy animal leap into the brush. The men howled! Did i see!? Do i understand? The charades of my imminent death began again. i shook it off, and banished the thought away with an arrogant finger, “Not me, i'm Canadian. Maybe that could eat an American but no chance with us Canadians," i teased back.
They roared with laughter, punched me in the shoulder and told me i was a bad man. i couldn't believe this was happening. Thirty minutes of racing down the road passed with more jokes and smiles until we finally arrived at the Brazilian border post. i jumped out of the car with my new friends only to be greeted by six soldiers with more guns.
Oh boy.
You would think it would be easier this time now that i had already explained myself to the four that had picked me up in the car. My bag was again torn apart, passport checked, and story retold. My new interrogator was far more intimidating, completely jacked, wearing a black singlet. Somehow his dressed down uniform held more authority than everyone else's. i looked to my new friends to find their demeanour had changed again. No longer the friendly familiarity, they looked nervous, and as uncomfortable as i was becoming. The man poured over my documents, and grilled the more senior officer that picked me up. As apprehensive as the rest of them, his voice stammered as he pointed to an abandoned car sitting off the side of the road. They went back and forth in rapid Portuguese, until the senior officer snapped his attention back to me. His voice lowered and asked a sharp question. A translator beside me mumbled "he wants know what football time support you."
Soccer? My mind raced, i don't watch sports at all! All eyes were on me, and i could feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck. i remembered talking to a woman at a party in Rio who explained how, in her humble opinion, Flamengo wasn't only the greatest team in Brazil, or the world, but of all time. Fueled with her hubris, and because that was the only Brazilian team i knew, i spit the name as fast as i could.
Every silent soldier groaned, save for my interrogator. A smile cracked his stoic face, he threw his enormous arm around my shoulder, and welcomed me to their sitting area. The border was rudimentary at best, a single bar blocking the road, a small one story concrete building, that couldn't be larger than 1,100 square feet, and behind that, two enormous satellite dishes. The sitting area was a handful of red plastic chairs, underneath a black mesh tarp hung over four crooked wooden posts to protect from the Sun. Lashed to a corner was an old box television, and through the static i could make out the beginning of a football match. My interrogator stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Danny. i smiled, shook, and we sat together. "FLAMENGO!" he cheered as the others followed us in and took their seats.
One of the soldiers passed around plastic cups filled with lukewarm guarana, which i was grateful to accept. Danny charaded eating food and showering at me, raising his eyebrows. i nodded yes, i was starving and filthy. He snapped to one of his men and signalled for him to show me around. i grabbed my toiletries, a towel, a change of clothes and followed him to the far side of the building. Their quarters were small. A few rows of bunk beds to one side, a kitchen in the corner, and what remained from a giant glorious spread of food was left upon a large table. He pointed to an outdoor shower and i wasted no time heading straight there.
The water was freezing, too uncomfortable to indulge in, but so welcomed. Even in the darkness i could see the drastic difference between the fresh water falling on me and dirty mud pouring off. As the cold began to sting i turned the faucet off and let myself glow while the excess water dripped to the drain. With wet hair i headed back to watch the game, only to have Danny shoo me away, insisting i make plate from what remained of their dinner. Not needing any more encouragement i was back to their dining room in seconds flat. Rice, beans, bread, salad, and a handful of bananas, its tough to say which was bigger, my plate or my smile.
i plopped myself down beside the troops, and began feasting while they introduced the rest of themselves. Despite being the biggest, and meanest looking guy, Danny turned out to be one of the friendliest. While we had struggled to speak to each other in an official capacity upon first meeting, the communication was easy while watching the game. Over an hour of high-fiving, cheering, groaning and swearing at the fuzzed out tv with poor jungle reception, the comradery over the match transcended language. It felt like worlds melting.
The game came to a close with Danny and i rejoicing and the rest of the camp cursing at Flamengo's victory. i marvelled at how behind the veil of authority these scary soldiers felt more like a group of my old friends that had to put on a show for work. A few of them toured me further, to the nearest side of the building, which included an office with a whacky communications room. Daniel strolled in out of nowhere with a mattress for me, dragged it to a corner and motioned for me to put my things down.
My luck continued to go up, it looked like i wouldn't be sleeping in the abandoned car anymore. We said our goodnights and i thanked them profusely as they headed out of the room to let me sleep. Before he hit the light Danny suddenly remembered something, grabbed a pad and paper, pointed at one of the satellites through the window, scribbled a random stretch of letters and numbers then wrote wifi underneath it. i stared at the paper after he left, this couldn't be real, wi-fi? When the tv reception was so bad?
i took stock of where i was about to sleep. On the table was a brand new computer, beside it sat what looked like a bunch of old world war two era submarine equipment. Weird light patterns, and seventies science fiction sounds fill the room every few minutes. Covering the walls were posters with advice on how to check for drug traffickers, common hiding spots in vehicles, and then there were the wildlife posters. Looks like the troops were right, i was beyond naïve to be wandering alone down that road. And exceptionally lucky to be sleeping somewhere sheltered. Leopards, crocodiles and many others called the Panatal home. All I could do was chuckle, breathe a sigh of relief.
After digging around to a hiding place in my bag i found my ipod touch, powered it up. What a crazy day. The wi-fi bars were exceptional, out of nowhere i had the fastest internet in Brazil. For the first time in close to week i had access to the rest of the world from the middle of nowhere. My emails downloaded in seconds while i rolled out my sleeping bag, stretched out on the mattress and got used to the strange sounds in the room. Exhaustion set in before i could do much more than let a few people close to me know i was ok before i passed out.
A sharp kick to my leg had me spring up from my mattress. Towering over me was a man holding a machine gun, his face covered by a black balaclava. “Arise Canada” said the enormous figure.
Where the hell was i!? Confusion came before fear, and it took a second for me to remember the night before, and that i wasn't about to be shot. “Good morning Danny,” i said with a smile.
“i make you ride Bolivia. Arise.”
Could that be right? Leaning around Danny i could see a brown car pulled over, and two of the other guards surrounding a very uncomfortable looking man. Danny pointed to the vehicle and made motions for me to pack my bags and get in. Unreal! i hadn't had it so easy the entire trip. It was a huge relief not to have to work to get my ride into Bolivia, especially so early in the day.
“Bolivia?” i asked the nervous looking driver after grabbing my belongings.
“Bolivia,” he nodded.
“Awesome, thanks!” and shook his hand with a smile.
"Canada! Halt!" i was beginning to suspect that Danny had only one cadence, that of a monster. Stalking over Danny handed me a brown paper bag filled with fruit, a roll, and a small coffee. He had packed me a breakfast, i was touched. We shook hands, from behind his menacing mask he never broke eye contact. "Flamengo" he whispered.
i gave him the universal nod with a smile, thanked him and the boys again and jumped in the car. The driver checked i had my belt on and turned up the radio. Through the static a Rolling Stones song started. As we rolled away from the border outpost i waved from out my window. The wind ran its fingers through my hair and i smiled remembering how remarkable last night ended up being. The asphalt road disappeared in an instant and with a sudden bump the road turned to dirt. With a new trail of dust the path changed from Brazil to Bolivia, and a new adventure began with the sun peaking over the horizon.
Thanks for reading!
Wazoo!
-Mr Write