I knew little about my next destination except it was Brazil’s very own version of Ibiza in Spain. During the summer break the small beach resort and coastal city of Balneario Camboriu grows from an average population of around 100, 000 people to almost 1 million tourists seeking out sun, scenic beaches and some of the world’s best dance clubs which are gaining respect amongst today’s most popular Djs. 

A local couchsurfer had posted out details to all surfers in surrounding areas about organizing the first big cs meeting in Camboriu and had personally wrote to me offering a couch. Just a few hours north of Florianopolis and in between my next destination, I changed my plans to head direct to Sao Paulo and took a detour to the city still accompanied by surfer and friend Ryan Clark. We had been traveling together now for over three months through good and bad times and I had become rather comfortable with always having someone around especially during the long distance bus rides. Ryan is physically in much better shape than me however I had noticed recently he had been sleeping a lot more and the fatigue of traveling for so long was finally starting to have an effect. However his major advantage over me was his ability to fall asleep in any place. I have trouble getting to sleep in a bed never mind on a bus or plane or even sitting in a chair. As soon as I shut my eyes my mind goes into creative overdrive and attempting to sleep feels like a wasted opportunity to progress in life. Sleep after all is the cousin of death so why spend so much time with him when I feel so alive?

Greeting us at the station was the rather small yet bigger than life Eddy Ervin Eltermann (EDDYELTERMANN) aka Eddieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee my 94th Official host who surprisingly greeted me with a taste of home ‘Alright Wanker’ in his strong London accent he had picked up after living in England for three years. It had been a long time since I’ve been challenged with the English dark sense of humor and Eddy knew perfectly how to push my buttons. His voice startled me at first. I was expecting broken English with the usual Latin lisp yet found myself chuckling to Barry White on helium. Eddy was straight out of a ‘Guy Richie’ movie, small but stocky, shaven head, tattoos, thick dark rimmed glasses and a West End gangster voice yet he wasn’t looking for trouble, far from it in fact. He was here to greet his first ever guests from couchsurfing with open arms and a trusting soul.

Dropping our bags at his flat situated in the centre of the downtown area we joined Eddy and his friend Jean for a walk along the main ocean boulevard ‘Avenida Atlantica’ just a stone’s throw from his home. It reminded me of Miami and Cancun with skyscrapers dominating the sea view but I knew I was in Brazil watching old faces pass a giant cup of ‘Mate’ around and stopping to watch the retired play a beach version of grass bowls called ‘Bocha’ in little bowling arenas beside the beach. I wanted to play but it seemed you had to be at least over fifty and be up early enough to join the waiting list. The day was bustling with activity from Capoeira football, volleyball, surfing, running or simply walking at a steady pace with a beer to hand like me and my entourage.

Small bars along the boulevard kept us nicely refreshed with cold beers whilst corn on the cob and churitto stands where always on offer should we get a little peckish. We stopped to watch the local fisherman retrieve a giant net from the sea with help from passersby who would be rewarded with a free fish should the days catch be adequate. Eddy told me that a few years ago the net was packed with fish everyday yet all I could see after thirty minutes of hard work was one helpless fish in a bucket gasping for life. I felt mesmerized by its will to want to survive continuing to breath for over ten minutes before its tiny lungs surrendered to the sight of a dozen human eyes interested in how good it tastes rather than how it could be saved. Part of me wanted to throw him back in the sea yet how ironic would that be from a fish who escaped my own bowl and I certainly didn’t want a herd of hungry stinky fisherman chasing me down the beach on my first day. Sorry fishy, you’re fried!

Returning home we met Eddy’s wife, who he incidentally met whilst living in England, the warm and caring lovable soul Estefania Mello (STE TUMENAS). ‘Nice to meet you wanker’, followed by a hug and a welcome home smile, I knew this was gonna be one of my best surfing experiences so far. Eddy and Stef also had another member of the family who I was yet to meet, a five year old daughter called Sarah who would be returning from her Grandmothers in a few days time. Eddy was the same age as me and Stef just a few years younger, I was eager to see how they worked together as a family. After all this should be me I thought, settled down with a child, maintaining a steady job and married to the women I love. Although Eddy and Stef weren’t officially married, a piece of paper didn’t change anything and they seemed perfectly happy with what they had. Making us feel at home immediately we where showed to their daughter’s bedroom where we would both be sleeping during our stay. Bunk beds and pink sheets made me feel my youth again although I much preferred my He-Man collection over Barbie Dolls and a husband without a penis. Poor Ken! How’s a women ever gonna learn with that little rabbit nose stump? And what the hell have they both got to smile about if he hasn’t got his manhood? Poor design feature! Society is so fo*ked up. Just look at the toys we are given to play with as kids. Action men and guns for boys, no wonder so many young teenagers are brainwashed into joining the army. And is it a wonder why so many teenage girls want to get pregnant having spent their childhood raising a plastic baby that really cries when it’s not fed by invisible milk and learning how to behave well in a toy kitchen making sure to put the pots back in the right place at the end of the day? The computer games of today teach young children how to lead a battalion into war and fictional characters like the tooth fairy still exist. For Christ sake, don’t blame it on drugs when a young girl jumps from her balcony, maybe she thought she could fly? It was probably our parents on drugs that thought of the tooth fairy anyway. As for Father Christmas, don’t be so cruel; tell them it’s a farce while they are young because I was truly devastated when I found my dad on Christmas morning passed out on the couch with the whiskey and half eaten mince pie and Santa pants stained with piss around his ankles. And we get mad when our kids lie to us. Shame on you!

Eddies friend Jean invited us over to his home for a welcome dinner cooked by his mother who was ecstatic about having two foreign guests. We had the choice to pick any of our favorite dishes and all agreed on my latest addiction to ‘Noquis’ however with little time to prepare we opted to buy them ready made. Jeans mum made a delicious homemade sauce and spectacular salad but I’m still yet to be convinced that ‘Palmito’ is meant to be eaten. It’s like a soggy white tasteless carrot but Brazilians go crazy for it. I just don’t understand how the middle of a tree can be appealing? Maybe it’s because I never grew up next to the jungle and was fed a hearty diet of Ketchup butties as a kid?

The next evening we celebrated the first city meeting of Camboriu with a bigger turn out than expected. People from all over the world gathered together to share travel adventures and make new friendships. It was great to have a chance to walk around the tables and talk with each person individually rather than be overwhelmed by a huge group like Buenos Aires. The smaller meetings seem to becoming obsolete these days as the couchsurfing site nears to the one million member mark.

I joined a few of the surfers for a sample of Brazil’s nightlife watching Dj Axwell at one of the top five best clubs in the world ‘Green Valley’. Clubbing isn’t what it used to be anymore that’s for sure and drugs are only recently becoming popular in Brazil. It’s funny watching society’s future gurning on the dance floor, ecstasy pumping serotonin through the pleasure domes of their mind. I remember when drugs and music were all about love, equality and harmony. Nowadays people just want an escape and will put anything in there’s bodies to achieve that. Ibiza was a special place for me when I was young, yet when I revisited a few years ago I was shocked at the levels people go to get out of their minds, unable to string a sentence together and wandering around a club looking like they escaped a mental institution after paying ridiculous amounts of money to sniff brick dust and house hold cleaning products. In Brazil however it isn’t cool to do drugs and even worse to look like you’re wasted. The people have a clean and respectful look about them and conversation is thankfully still present in the clubs and bars. You never see a Brazilian women stumbling around with makeup streaming down her face or groups of drunken lads smashing each other’s faces in with broken beer bottles. People are proud and have class and aim to look and feel good yet like any new trend, I’m sure as the clubs gain more popularity with tourists so will the drugs on the dance floor.

Back at Eddy’s house I was finally introduced to his daughter Sarah. I couldn’t believe how well behaved she was for a five year old. Never raised her voice or stamped her foot to demand attention and always carried an angelic smile that would lighten up every room she entered. I envied Eddy and Stef, watching them play together as a family with the joy of their life, a true unconditional love, their whole world orbiting the spirit of their two souls combined, an atomic admiration dancing together in synchronized smiles. Sarah would always clean up her toys when she finished playing and cared for her dolls like a mother. “How did you teach her to be so well behaved”? Eddy and Stef explained that every time Sarah did something good she was rewarded with a paper star, which she could then trade for a gift. The more stars the better the prize. By now however she had already out grown the exercise and become a star on her own! I was impressed. Proves that we don’t need to beat our children to make them listen or spoil them to keep them in control. Sarah was learning that she must work for the things she wanted and appreciated them more once she got them. Very smart indeed!

Like most Latin American countries I had been pre-warned about the dangers of Brazil but as of yet felt a total opposite. The people are incredibly friendly and the places I visited forever bursting with color and character. The country moves at a steady pace and life seems more relaxed with time to spend pursuing the things you enjoy. I guess I’m reflecting on my own lifestyle but even the hard workers have time for an afternoon catnap in the shade. Yet I knew I had to keep my wits about me regardless. Watching the afternoon news on TV reminded me of the dangers lurking in the bigger cities especially. I couldn’t believe the content being shown so early in the day, a full scale urban war in Sao Paulo had broke out after a policeman killed an escaped convict forcing hundreds of gangs to charge down from Favala’s and terrorize the urban communities burning cars and shooting machine guns in the street. Not exactly the perfect advertisement for my next planned destination. Even more shocking was footage of a man getting shot through the head in his car whilst waiting for his garage door to open which had been recorded via the security camera on his driveway. My lunch began to taste a little sour feeling like I’d accidently turned on the executions channel. No, it was just the regular news. Why does news always need to be bad? Hasn’t anyone ever thought to make a newspaper covering happy stories like doctor saves babies life or front page special ‘President Bush has been assassinated’. Why not? Probably because we live in a sick world of jealously and hatred and self motivation for power and success and the thought of someone else being happier than you would make your stomach turn inside, right?  We prefer to watch the famous get torn apart, read the gory details of the footballer’s compound fracture ending his latest goal tally, give a dumb blond her own TV show after sucking some jock off on camera, destroy a great musicians soul with presumptions and speculations and bending truths the way we wish to see it.

Well I’ve got a happy story for you. People like Eddy and Stef and baby Sarah, that’s a story I shall never forget and one that will make me smile for the rest of my life. Bless your souls, I love you guys.