This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams. It ran as “Na estrada para Três de Maio” on October 31, 2010. His line rhymes in Portuguese, Maio with saio, and there’s no way to keep that in English.
I don’t know his name, or I’ve forgotten it, but he was no older than 16 and he was hitchhiking on a high speed motorway, 2 lanes each way, or was it 3? That’s the least of it. With the calm coming off him there could have been 16 lanes and it still wouldn’t have been a problem. A country kid, short, looking up at me while he talked, giving off that unbothered air of a child mixed with the experience of a European explorer.
It didn’t look like his first time out there. Honestly it looked like his whole life had gone that way. His best companion was a rubber football, and nobody forgets being hit by one of those, the sound echoes with every kick.
Boinnnng….
Of the few words we traded, I can’t give back the ones I got:
When I see a car showing up on the horizon I get myself ready, I hold the 3 fingers in position, and when it comes closer I point and say:
I’m going to 3 de Maio, my life is there and I’m not leaving it.
And it was like that every time. He started his little verse well before the car went past, fingers curled in, concentrating, sometimes with his eyes closed, and when he thought the moment was right he stretched out his arm and showed the 3 fingers (Index, Middle and Ring). He got everything he needed across in one gesture.
While no car was coming he played with that lopsided ball, and every bounce of it put a knot in my stomach. I never saw anybody stop for the boy, I left before that. One of the last things I saw was his ball bouncing away out of control towards the lanes, or did I just imagine it?
I don’t even know where I was, where I was going, or what I’m doing here. I don’t know why I lost sight of him any more than I know what part I played in his life. Maybe on the third of May I’ll find out, either the day or the town.
Does the dream come true?
Years later, I drove out to Três de Maio in Rio Grande do Sul (Brazil) to see what would happen. It turned out the way it did; have a look. (It’s all in Portuguese :p)
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams. It ran as “Episódios” on May 2, 2010.
For anybody who hasn’t seen it yet, the second episode of the trip to Salto do Yucumã is out, with a dull and entirely inconclusive monologue, plus some deleted scenes thrown in as a Greek gift.
They’re over on the post about the trip. Just click the little arrows on the video to watch the other episodes.
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams. It ran as “Salto do Yucumã” on April 23, 2010.
I can’t remember exactly how I learned that the longest waterfall in the world by extension was in Brazil (or in Argentina, for the Argentinians). I only know that after that I drew up any number of plans to get there. After a few frustrated attempts, I finally arrived.
It was unthinkable to miss this opportunity!
The rumors that the falls will disappear kept growing, and you can only see them in summer, which was already ending. I tried to get in touch with residents or people who had visited recently to find out about the state of the river, without success.
Our first night on the road wasn’t one of the best either. We slept in the car park of the Chapecó bus station. Minutes before trying to get to sleep I thought this would be a good idea, and it wasn’t quite what happened. As well as the noise of cars all night, some people were trying sleep outside the bus station. I don’t know whether they’re trying to leave the city or arriving in it. The problem is that the children play and the adults argue until very late.
Things weren’t going the way I imagined. Leandra (the sunbeam of my morning) Silva was apprehensive about the trip and suggested somewhere closer, and we agreed that if the day didn’t work out we’d change destination. I haven’t even mentioned that Adriano (the dreamer) Couto woke up alarmed and told me this would be my last trip.
Last Trip
He was right. This trip motivated me to make the first video in the Last Trip series, expeditions in search of cities, cultures and places facing extinction, mostly inside our own country. This first trip is split into two parts, with the deleted scenes thrown in.
Derrubadas, RS
The town responsible for receiving the tourists is very small and seems to be shrinking every year. In 1993 it had 4,500 inhabitants, and by 2003 it was down to 3,300. There seems to be little investment in the town and its surroundings. Or will building the Roncador hydroelectric complex bring “development” to the region? The agreement between Brazil and Argentina has already been signed. Now we only need to find out whether that development is for the companies involved, or for the people and the environment.
Salto do Yucumã is inside the Turvo State Park, another place that only makes the news when somebody uncovers a scandal about guards hunting endangered animals or siphoning off money. It seems somebody always has to lose for a human being to win. If we really are winning.
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams. It ran as “Yucumã” on April 1, 2010.
Tank full, fresh oil, tyres at 30 and 35, and all the junk in the “boot”, heading for Salto do Yucumã.
The longest longitudinal waterfall in the world… … which could disappear in 2 years :/
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams. It ran as “Viajar de Kombi” on March 20, 2010.
Poetry, emotion and a great deal of noise always come along on a good Kombi trip. The video is a remix of moments from an experiment of a trip (me and Leandra) down to Rio Grande do Sul.
So? What is riding in a Kombi to you?
The day after, I put the original text from the video in the comments.
Riding in or driving a Kombi is:
sitting right on top of the wheel having to leave her in gear on the way down getting to 60 in fourth and wishing for a fifth having to turn around and shout to talk to the lunatic sitting at the back watching a waterfall pour out of the front when you brake on a rainy day having a wind deflector, driving with your arm out, and squealing the tyres in reverse parallel parking her fully loaded stopping very close to the car in front a constant fight with the play in the steering wheel loading up the whole crowd at the weekend going off camping without taking a tent flattening every road stud on the asphalt never having to hire a truck to move house being in no hurry to arrive
and answering with pride when somebody asks what car you have: I HAVE A KOMBI.
