Or as they call it here. The Caminho da Fe
It’s a 300 mile trek through a part of south east Brazil. It’s supposed to be the cool time to walk it. If you can call 82 degrees cool. Which I don’t
Took the best part of 36 hours to get here. I badly miscalculated. I thought the flight would be 6 hours. Not 11.
Some kind of world traveller I am
The flight was fun. In the same way as sandpapering your eyeballs would be fun.
The huge Brazilian dude in front of me immediately and violently reclined his seat,.spilling hot coffee into my crotch. Im grateful I dont know the Portuguese word for knobhead.
The TV screen on my seat beamed perfect HD quality movies. Unfortunately there was no sound. None.
The cabin crew promised to sort it. Then ignored me.
Eleven hours is a long time with no amusement
I slept fitfully. Dreaming alternatively that we were landing in my old village high street and the elderly woman next to me was trying to get into my blanket. Freud would have a field day with that.
My seat was right at the back. Next to the toilet. I mean RIGHT next to it. It flushed with the force – and sound – of a hand grenade.
It was most ….unnerving. several times i leapt in my seat convinced a terrorist had set off some device
I won’t bore you with my hapless adventures in Brazil so far. Except to say I repeat the phrase “I am English” as an excuse for every stupid mistake I made.
I get on the wrong bus: ” I am english
I have no idea how to pay for the meal. I am english.
I don’t want any food just beer. I am english.
I am in the wrong town. Help me. I am english.
I start the trek
tomorrow. Pray for me.