Moving from place to place consistently has advantages. For if I experience a negative emotion, I’m simply able to sling my satchels stained with the soils of the world upon my back and walk out that ‘god forsaken town’ shaking the dust from my boots and smiling to a saloon doors squeak dwindle into a heavy horse trot across new lands. No need to look back, for how can one look a man in the eyes and play decent cards when the opponent forgot to take out the joker before the game? 

Even cowboys had a retreat, someplace to flee if the heat is on or to rest should the lasso of loneliness caste its leathery grip around ones waistcoat, forcing the air and dirt from the great outdoors to splutter deep from an unsettling breathlessness. Stop to stitch a gunshot wound cleaned with ruby bourbon, mould some roll ups for the empty tobacco tin or drop by to see a frilly skirt, leaving a few nickels and dimes beside the bed after a delightful recharge, sealed with a whiskery kiss to the cheek while she’s still sleeping. Buckle the belt, spin the barrel and ready for the road again.  

I, on the other hand just needed a friend I could trust. Maybe even enjoy some dancing to shake off those empty spirits clinging to me like toilet paper does to the arse when you drop a sticky poop! That’s why you should always carry ‘Huggies’, the gods have had smooth cheeks since creation, laughing at us from above grinding our teeth with each wipe of recycled wood shavings! Even Adam and Eve used leafs and totally understood the phrase ‘Your barking up the wrong tree’. When the hell were we told by our mothers that we are now old enough to wipe our sphincters with the same material once used for two signatures to sign away their souls in a promise now regurgitated into the basin of a toilet with last night’s Vindaloo? I was the ‘Lord Of The Ring Stings’ for way too long until the 8th wonder of the world spoke green in the baby aisle of which previously I had never ventured down before?  I no longer run backwards in the cornfields, but slide effortlessly on luscious grass fields leaving ‘El Bano’ like a 64 Pink Chevy pulling out of a car wash.

A friend, I found in Rio, well actually over the bridge in the non tourist town of Niteroi which faces opposite to the second largest city in Brazil across the bay without the glamour and riches. I had initially met my 96th official host Antonio Queiroz Junior (AQJUNIOR) in the couchsurfing film group more than a year ago sharing a deep passion for world cinema. We had remained in contact via msn since my surgery in Ecuador and his big smiley face at the bus terminal helped me understand why I felt so at home with a soul I had never physically met before. Antonio was genuinely pleased to meet me and ecstatic to show me his hometown and Rio where he occasionally worked as a tour guide.

Briefly meeting his wonderful mum and establishing a base camp for my bags, we wasted no time and headed out to a local Samba school rehearsal. I imagined a small indoor basketball court with step seating but suddenly found myself in the middle of an open top courtyard packed with gorgeous women shaking those big black booties to a full size cabaret on stages situated around the arena. An electric orchestra of drums supplied the thunder for thighs to get groovy, sometimes the ladies would shake their butts so fast I was expecting the Tasmanian Devil to stop in front of me, steal my beer then swizzle off again.

Mesmerized by one ladies dance in particular I fell blind sighted to her hand wrenching me from the crowd and into a circle of people before cocking her back for a face off.  Prior to having a chance to explain my dodgy knee I was spinning around, gambolling like Jim Carey in the ‘Mask’ and grinding my big white ass over a bottle of beer on the floor with everyone chanting for me to get down! ‘Balls to Samba’, I thought breaking out with some of my own moves ending in a ‘Torro’ Esq. stance with my eyes firmly fixed on hers, sweat pumping from our foreheads. The crowd’s applause deafened her whisper in my ear hence the reason I was slightly unprepared for our intended finale of me catching her with both hands in the air, instead sending her crashing to the floor. Again the crowd roared, more so this time with laughter which didn’t deter her from a second attempt and me finally getting a chance to hold firmly onto a pair of luscious legs topped with an ass reminding me of pudding at Christmas!  How nice it would taste smothered in white cream, sorry I meant custard! She told me several times to put her down but the crowd was so loud I couldn’t hear very well! Yer right! Like a little child with a giant chocolate bar I was frisson and unable to let go, only wanting to peel back the wrapper and gobble her all up yet contempt with a rewarding osculation finally opening my eyes catching that unforgettable moment disappearing into a crowd of succulent cheek meat!

Samba had cast a wicked spell on my seat hugger and leaving the party I couldn’t control the urge to shake my big white ass. Antonio explained to me that there’s actually a sacred ground called the ‘Cidade Do Samba’ in Gamboa, a district neighbouring downtown, apparently the birth place of the ‘Carioca’ samba, whose ancestors presented the art of African Dance during their arrival in the 17th and 18th century. It’s no surprise to see such similarities with Brazil and Africa, just take a look at the world millions of years back during Pangaea when both continents where connected, which may also explain the African animals apparently depicted in some of the carvings at the Nasca Lines of Peru; said to have been made way before man had even learnt to traverse the seas? Or maybe it’s just the fact that we have always been connected through mind, body and soul and our true nature is our ability to express ourselves individually, freely but never as one.

The following evening I and Antonio ventured across the bridge to attend my first couchsurfing meeting in Rio. I always get a little frustrated if many people are to be expected yet even with a big turn out the Rio group seemed well organized and pleasantly welcoming and had arranged the meeting in an ideal location beside the beach with plenty of space to move around and talk. When I first began this venture the meetings where never more than twenty people, yet nowadays I’m experiencing on average around eighty people in the bigger cities. It’s truly a great way to make connections and I never get bored of meeting new faces from around the world.

It’s impossible to connect with every surfer I meet and by now I’ve become a true master of obtaining information through eye contact at any distance. If you study eyes long enough a pattern forms which you can then concur with body actions. It’s not easy though as some people are masters of perception and after all what we perceive is reality itself. Once I figure out who my crowd is, then I can go about directing my energy in the right direction which often leads to a trade in positive vibrations. If you find yourself let down by the people around you even though you have expressed only kindness and friendship, it’s because they take you for granted often leaving you bewildered or disappointed. Think of it like football, we are bred to believe we are supposed to support our home team regardless if they are good or bad yet unselfishly we always have the option to change and support something we enjoy without being disloyal to ones happy bank! With that in mind I set out with my new tailor made crowd for my first taste of Rio’s nightlife, the loopy ‘Lapa’.

Across the city, schools of children kicked off the Carnival celebrations at the Samba Dome showcasing their miniature version of Rio’s biggest celebration, whilst I wriggled my way through hordes of plastic pint cups in a Lapa overflowing with tourists pre-gaming the beers for a weekend of dancing and street parties. Couchsurfers unite amongst a world united; I lost myself in dark eyes and big black lips like two plump slugs making love. Who said heaven was white?

Antonio’s friend offered to host us both during the carnival weekend in downtown Rio even though he wasn’t a surfer. A doctor with a fine selection of exquisite liquors on offer from the self made bar in his house as well as an avid movie lover with a giant projector screen and surround sound system, I had plundered upon an unexpected luxury and an ideal pad to watch the Oscars with my fellow film fanatics. To celebrate our fellowship, doc cracked open a bottle of Jonny Blue, as rare as watching an episode of Baywatch without bashing the ol bishop!

Now I’m no ‘Frank Gallager’, and have yet to wake up the next morning in a wheelbarrow but occasionally I find myself in an unusual situation wondering how, why, who and what hellish decisions led me here. So imagine Doc’s car suffering a punctured tire on a main road at the foot of one of Rio’s most dangerous ‘Favela’s’ on the way back from a bar at two o clock in the morning.  Furthermore imagine discovering that Doc had accidently snapped all the screws attempting to change the tire in a drunken state (everyone drink drives in Latin America) forcing us to have to wait for a recovery truck sat beside a busy road loaded on whiskey, sleepy, a brand new car we are unable to move in full view of a neighbourhood famous for crimes, guns and definitely not a place for a gringo to be singing ‘I’m feeling gin & tonic’ late in the night. Top that with the fact that we had to wait more than five hours watching the sunrise in slow motion exposing our situation ever more to a hillside of pure bred gangsters, one may say this would be an acceptable time to shit my pants, chew my fingers to the bone and sweat like Michel Jackson at a high school play! Hail Jonny Blue, I was so wasted I slept through most of the ordeal and let my hosts explain the next day just how lucky we were to still have the clothes on our backs never mind the car in one piece.  

To save money I avoided paying the overpriced ticket for the live carnival parade and joined my hosts instead watching snippets on Tv. It’s very impressive but after a few hours I was bored and easily distracted. I favoured instead to hunt around the city joining the numerous ‘Bloco Parties’, where hundreds of people gather to march the streets following a small car or truck loaded with a loud crappy speaker repeating the same five songs over and over. Empty beer cans crunch beneath my feet, whilst fresh ones pop froth over my face. Hands grab me from all directions pulling me in for a kiss, before the smooching is over I’m already lined up for the next constantly losing my friends in a hustle of non- stop affection. Like being back in school with just an hour’s dinner break to kiss as many girls as possible I dodged and weaved between the hot and the goofy totally avoiding the toothless and occasionally regretting the taste of brace metal or dog breath caused from the chain smoking forty five year old with lips like sandpaper.  A kiss is a kiss but unlike the Jews I was taught that kissing a wall can often be related with insanity.

My host continued his overflowing passion to show me the sights guiding myself and some friends up one of the new seventh wonders of the world, the famous statue of Christ (Christo Redentor) overlooking Rio. It’s definitely a wonder, why so many people believe that praying will change the course of their lives? I’d love to be an ancestor of Jesus; the royalties must be richer than the Queen of England with the same tax exclusions, a few plastic moulds here, concrete statues there, mini gold crosses everywhere and suddenly your local priest has a Mercedes secretly stored away in his mansion hideaway. Coca Cola fucked up using Father Christmas and polar bears for their marketing campaign?

‘Jesus Drinks Coke; he’s loving it’!

Even the church could charge extra to wet the baby’s head with Holy Coke, a white soda in a see through can! You honestly think priests abide by all gods expectations? Settle for a little gloomy old fashioned house beside a spooky cemetery, alone every night reading the same book over and over never once thinking to use some of Sunday’s donations to nip out for a six pack and swap the little white collar for a raggy t-shirt stained with the cries of last week’s best behaved choir boy? Wake up world, where the hell do you think all that money goes to? And don’t you agree it’s a little insensitive to replicate the very appliance used to kill your hero? Do you see Bob Marley fans walking round with a gun on a chain? Obviously it was the twittering of our fanatical brainwashed children in the past that led the sane to say such things as ‘Oh My God’, ‘Jesus Christ’ and ‘Hail Mary’, confusing the insane to believe that the non believers where actually praising the lords name. Simply put, it’s like pulling a toothless minger with your beer goggles on, realizing the next morning just how God awful she is but your irresponsible urge for sex has shamefully injected the once untouched virgin with a heightened self esteem. Her new found confidence renders you sickened and speechless as she glides out the door with the un-sexiest of sexy walks leaving you muttering through clenched lips,

‘You can’t polish a turd’!

Our tour finished with a walk around the foot of the symbolic Sugar Loaf Mountain. Having paid one fee for the Christ trip I opted to miss the cable car ride famous for the memorable fight scene between James Bond and Jaws in the 1979 Moonraker movie. Always reminds me of Christmas and Bank Holidays and urges me to drink something tangy ‘Shaaaken Not Stirrrred’. At the foot of the mountain I followed my host on a footpath through surrounding jungle stopping occasionally so the tiny ‘Mico’ monkeys could nibble on my nuts. “Da namessss Bond, Jamess Bond, licenseeee to thrilllll.

Antonio was one of my favourite hosts so far yet living across the bay proved difficult to join in with the many cs activities in the city hence the reason I pursued another couch closer to the centre. I had met my 97th Official host Laura & Marcio previously in Uruguay who had said they could host should I have any problems. Ideally situated close to the Subway, a stone’s throw from the beach, I could now relax a little and catch up on some writing which has been hard to maintain recently with so much moving around. I find myself wanting to write but often can’t find my comfort zone, chasing my tail like a dog looking for that exact position to drop myself into. Also writing indoors without a fan in the increasing heat often leads to sweat filling the grooves between my keyboard frustrating my fingers like a fish trying to escape my grasp.

Marcio works as a freelance director and fortunately for me had some free time to show me around. I joined him for a cruise on the back of his motorcycle, in my opinion the only way to truly feel the collaboration of a big city and nature combined, gliding through traffic at ease with a gentle breeze, epic rock formations erupting from the sea cause the sun to hide then appear again like a hot fresh flannel to your face, lush green trees line the central cause ways spreading a vibrant summer sensation with every turn we make. I felt like Magnum PI winding up hillsides, the great natural rock formations getting smaller as the sea opens up into a mass of rippled blues hugging the horizon slowly preparing to digest yet another day.  

I was struck with awe as we graced through Santa Terresa, one of Rio’s most popular neighbourhoods high in the surrounding mountains. Home to the rich and artistic, its growing trend has attracted foreign students to rent local properties and spirited a boom in expensive resto bars and high class restaurants. It had a very European feel with narrow roads catering for a cheap tram that chugs you up and down the hill for less than a dollar. Aromatic flavours bounce off mouth watering menus chalked upon blackboards advertising the dish of the day which many of the locals simply can’t afford to buy.

Close to the summit of the mountain lives a friend of Marcio who had invited us both to play poker. Walking up the drive way of his home I was disappointed to not find any garden fairies or pixies playing in the jungle of wild colour and exotic plantations. I did however find a huge monkey in a cage, the house pet Sofia, who was keen to take from me the many fallen fruits I managed to salvage from the floor.  I was mesmerized by her every swing and lost myself in amazement at just how monkey like I am!

Failing to understand the many different styles of poker play, I hid the shame of an early defeat and resumed my curious observation of Sofia. Occasionally she was released from the cage to run freely around the huge grounds but always favoured to return back to her wire box rather than into the wild. God forbid should any of us ever consider life beyond what we perceive each day, better to stay in our comfort zones, away from danger with an ignorant bliss. I wish more than anything to be back behind those four walls, looking at the same view everyday through my window, happy to see piles of bills pouring through the letter box each  morning, pulling weeds from my garden and keeping up with the joneses making sure my car is nice and polished every Saturday morning. Ha!

The following day, Marico showed me more of the city by motorcycle cruising down Copacabana beach passing the Palace Hotel, the most luxury hotel of the Americas back in 1930. After a quick slurp on some fresh coconut milk, my host took me for a typical Brazilian style Sushi Banquet, reasonably priced and extremely delicious. Marcio had very good taste for food and was passionate about living life a little above the average standard. Being a backpacker for so long you often forget what it’s like to enjoy exceptional food, feel smart in well ironed clothes or a suit, walk the streets in shiny shoes and benefit from a clean hot shower twice a day. I think the most important thing for me now is what new things I allow myself to perceive in life, feels like Christmas every day except the gifts I receive are beyond anything I could wrap.

Before the suns descent behind the two brothers peaks we cruised by the famous Ipanema beach packed with locals drinking beer and cooling down with my least favourite Brazilian snack, the bitter tasting Aca’i which contains eight spices of palm trees native to central and South America. I’ve tried many variations of the purple mush but it always seems to taste like soap to me. Unlike the over populated, grungy run down Copacabana, Ipanema seemed more vibrant and modern reflecting the Carioca spirit of the people of Rio, welcoming visitors eager to join in the fun, which I soaked up with a beer and good conversation with a new friend.

Every Sunday night in Rio during summer is a VIP party in a museum surrounding tailored for the rich and famous. I was invited to join Marcio and his wife Laura with a discounted entrance. Whilst in the Dj box trying to blag my way on the decks, my attention was turned to a familiar face I was sure I had seen before but couldn’t quiet remember where. It was only one of Brazil’s most talented and famous actors, the Brad Pitt of South America, Rodrigo Santoro, who featured in a few episodes of Lost, played the handsome geek in Love Actually, the big bad Persian King Xerxes in 300 and recently Raul Castro in the new Che movie. After enjoying a pleasant thirty minute conversation about movies and screenwriting, I was amazed just how down to earth he was although I guess I would be if I was boning Natalie Portman! She can run around my bedroom dressed as Madonna singing ‘Like A Virgin’ any day.

Wrapping up my final day in Rio, I met with Antonio for a quick tour of some of his favourite places, passing through the old town to check out an ancient library full of man’s quests for knowledge and the truth to our existence. Definitely not a place a tourist would stumble upon which is why I’m glad I’m not your average tourist. However there’s still the odd place I just couldn’t resist. Since I arrived to Rio I was eager to have my photo taken on the famous steps from ‘Snoop Dogs’ music video ‘Beautiful’ located in the Lapa area. I even managed a rare shot of me and the actual artist who has spent years collecting the tiles from people all over the world, carefully assembling them all to form a true representation of Brazil, big, bright, and extremely eye catching.

Sharing a bowl of the most delicious fried fish Balls ‘Bolinho De Bacalhau’ after a hike up the steps to Santa Terresa with Antonio, I felt lucky to have found a true friend, who’s smile reached as far as my imagination that maybe one day, we can all enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company without fear, reservation and only the will to be true to our natural self. Learning from Antonio, the best way to begin is to smile, so that I did.