The hour and a half drive from Rio to Casimiro de Abreu starts off like you might expect. The city's sky scrapers transform into regular sized home and suburban neighborhoods. After a few miles and curves we were surrounded by open green, rolling mountains. But sometime between jamming out to Samba, singing our national anthems and practicing Portuguese, we found ourselves winding through a canyon with lush mountains on either side. It was just the kind of jungle you'd imagine, with bamboo, vines, banana trees and thick green all around.
Eventually we pulled off the road to Casimiro de Abreu, which had somehow cleared through the brush to create a small town. Sabrina was thrilled to be stopped by a red light when we first pulled in. Up until a few months ago, the town didn't have more than a few stop signs. We quickly met with her family, who were next door neighbors in a line of tropical Latin homes. Each had a red ceramic roof overhead, yellow walls and beautiful tile floors underfoot. Their Brazilian walnut doors and shutters were open all the time. No one seemed to mind when a gecko made it in the house. It'll eat the bugs, they said. I loved it. We didn't have much time to ogle, though, because we were off with Sabrina's childhood friends, Clara and Jao, to the river.
Above: The main strip of Casimiro.Below: Sabrina's aunt's house.
Again, I underestimated how wild this would be. I imagined a few trickles, maybe more of a wash than a river. But when we suddenly pulled off the main road to a bumpy and muddy path, I knew I was once again in for a treat. We walked down a steep dirt path between mossy trees and rocks. Then we reached the bridge. It was just like the kind of wobbly, wood and wire bridges they recreate at Disneyland -- this one was real. And it crossed a raging river as big as any I've seen in Colorado. The trip across was the definition of adventure. I had the Indiana Jones song in my head the whole time. The middle section was the hardest part when the whole crossing swayed with each step. We eventually made it to the other side, where we splashed around in the water.
Crossing the bridge and on the other side.
Our tour continued with a pull off to see an amazing waterfall cascading down a nearby mountain. Next time we'll hike there to swim, Sabrina said. Later we drove to a family friends' weekend home, which was at the end of a bumpy dirt road surrounded by banana trees. On the way we passed a bar where people sat in the river and rested their beers on nearby rocks. The family friends' house was just as amazing, built right on the river and decorated with fruit trees and tropical birds that they raise. We were quickly ushered to the back patio, which was like an open-air house itself, and given beer, meat, pretzels and nuts. It was my first taste of the generous Brazilian hospitality to come.
The drive to the family friends' house, and the hut were we were fed.
Back at Sabrina's family's house we celebrated her aunt's birthday party. They'd hired a professional chef to cook the beef and chicken at their barbecue. It was better than anything you'd find at the finest US restaurants. And my beer glass was never empty, because someone always made sure to fill it up at the first signs of the bottom. Everyone wanted to communicate with us gringos, and used all the English words they knew, no matter how limited. It's amazing how I could feel so at home even in such a foreign land. Everyone, even the oldest of the crowd, stayed up drinking and socializing until 3 a.m. This is pretty typical for Brazilian parties, even 50-something birthdays. I think I was made for this country.
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