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Published: July 13th 2006
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(Excuse the digression, but right now I am sitting here in La Paz, thinking of grills. I have come across one of the weirdest phenomenoms, for which I have ever been exposed. There are thousands of stout, strong quechua woman walking and hawking amongst the street. They seem like the perfect grandmothers, with children in tow, businesses strapped to their back, and dainty little hats topping their bright outfits. The weird thing is, they all have iced out grills. It is like i was transformed into some underground dirty south hip-hop show, emceed by the ying yang twins. No joke, i saw one with turquoise inlaid in her teeth, and another with gold hearts. What?, but i digress.) Below is the story I intended to write when I sat down.
His grill gleamed, but without any ice. Higugo Boss had it, the stuff of legends and Colgate ads pasted the world wide. A 100% natural, totally organic, bonafide million dollar smile. And he had every right to be smiling and so did the thousands of other beaming Brazillians we came across, but why? Why were the Brazillians that much happier than the other peoples I have come across in my
travels?
...This question plagued me as georgee stared bewitched into the fire once again. I searched the sky, my soul, the souther cross, and I ran through my memories like Uta Pippig in her heroic victory. Like her, I accomplished my goal, but was bloody and shit stained.... (this will make sense after the paraguay entry)
From Argentina, we had made our way to Campo Grande. A slummy little town spotted with buffet joints, drunken downers, and fat whores in short skirts. We were frzoen on the street by the stare of Luciana, she was different. She sung to us in sweet short sentences about the ecological adventure upon which we would soon embark. Each line was punctuated by her smile. That crooked tooth smile, which shined brightest when she spoke about jaguars, boars, boas and simple swamp living.
...The fire needed stoking so i gathered some small brush and piled it 6 inches high. I stuck my face in the flames and blew until it burned. I got up, light headed, and for some reason that felt right.
Igor inherited his dad´s million dollar smile, and it was plastered across his face as he pulled
piranhas from the murky water below. He laughed at me over dinner, because he had provided two fish for the meal, and I, none. On the hammocks after dinner I was digesting and digressing as the world slowly spun, and I slowly swung. Then Sosa´s wife came running from the kitchen. Tatu, tatu she squealed. She had caught sight of an armadillo rooting around under a bench. We all pointed and laughed at the gangly grey creature until it rushed into the underbrush and out of our lives.
...As these memories and more danced in time with the flames, I searched for the common thread among the laughter and smiles I encountered. Then I remembered my seminal moment in the Pantanal.
I awoke as I did every morning, with the cock crowing into our window as light peeked from the horizon. I slipped from my bed into my sandals and onto the early morning dew. Hundreds of birds flitted in every direction as I walked across the swamp towards the low grumbling of the trees. No sooner had I entered the jungle, when I was accosted with a guttural grumble from afar. I searched the ground for a
warthog warning me of his presence, when I heard the growl again. It was coming from above. The treese were alive with 6 Howler monkeys swingin in the soft sunrise light. The older males stared in scorn at my presence. The women took no heed of me as they groomed themselves or a close friend. And the children, ahh the children, they delighted in the branches above, swinging and leaping from one tree to the next with the ease of a famous footballer on his favorite pitch. It was magical. I stood silent and reverent as a smile swept my face. It was this memory that unlocked the puzzle of the beaming Brazilians. It was the same smile I saw on the faces of the others, and the same smile I would see again. I saw it when we came across capybaras, or 50 pound carp. The same smile my comrades caught when they came across and anteater scurrying up a palm tree, the same smile Hugo had as he tried to catch a cayman by its tail. The same simple smile, the same warm feeling in the middle of your chest as you see a six foot stork take
flight into the sunrise. It is this warmth, this smile which emanates from people who have cultivated a real relationship between nature and man. This union is freeing for the soul, like sex, only the afterglow lasts longer.
...And as I sat staring into the flames, I felt the transformation in myself. A release really, like the release of bright color and intricate patterns when wood is emancipated through fire. And at that moment, the fire and I were one. Both dancing in time to the pulse of the Pantanal, the beat of Brazil.
Both being, nothing more.
And I smiled.
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