Porto-de-Galinhas, into the land of the chickens...

I arrived in Porto-de-Galinhas in the afternoon and was welcomed by the sight of rustic, sea-side bungalows and miles of shoreline--seemingly "untouched" in comparison to Rio and Recife. And as the name would suggest, this place had a thing for chickens. Everywhere you went, there they were.

And for the first time since I arrived in Brazil, the only thing left for me to do was put on shorts, head out to the water, and sit on the beach. There were no major tourist attractions to see, no tours, no scheduled events.

And best of all, there were no high-rises or obtrusive-looking hotels dwarfing the beach here. It felt a little strange to simply meander. To dip my feet in the water and not just look at it from a car window or balcony.

But not for too long. Let's be honest people, I can sit on my butt for only so long before I get itchin' to explore. I hopped a taxi to the downtown area and was dropped off on the main drag.

Chock-full of touristy shops, restaurants, and men walking down the street in speedos. Once again, I was in my element.

When in Porto-de-Galinhas, one absolutely must rent a dune-buggy, like the one above. It is the hippest trend, a most practical way to get around (on and off the sand), and definitely worth your time and money ... That being said, I in fact was too busy taking pictures of chickens and spending money on ice-cream to care about dune buggies.

Did I already mention that this town is a virtual ode to the chicken as we know it? Statues dotted every street corner, intersection, and side walk. I couldn't really wrap my finger around the why and how of it all, but I didn't really care. It was fascinating anyways. Here's a random sampler--

Chickens as phone booths,

restaurant meeters and greeters,

porn-stars (check out the full-frontal exposure),

and testaments to urban decay and termites. The list goes on my friends.

I then walked down to the water where swimmers and snorkelers can rent these colorful rafts called jangadas, which take them out to observe the beauty of clearwater rock pools and tropical fish.

Ummmm.....so.... I'll admit that I didn't really do that either. I was too content people-watching, wading, strolling, and of course eating multiple lunches and dinners and snacks. (The ginormous chocolate and berry-filled crepe with the pound of whipped cream on top was one of my fav's and a great pre-dinner snacky).

It felt like Thanksgiving. If I wanted it, I ate it. After all, there was simply too much culture to experience through my mouth, and too little time to do it in. Thank goodness for my amazing ability to pack it down and never feel full.... it's a blessing and a curse. Today, it was a blessing.

That night was oh-so relaxing and still. I brought out my journal, sat overlooking the pool and ocean, and contemplated life as we know it. There really wasn't a better time or place to let it all come flowing out onto paper.

Now pardon me for being a bit introspective for a moment, but have any of you ever sat down and made of list of all the things that you're afraid of? Besides spiders or killer whales? I'm talking things that might actually be hindering your progress, without you consciously knowing it? Well my friends, you should try it. Random? Most definitely. But also, most definitely, a great excersise in self-awareness. It is oh, so liberating and eye-opening to confront yourself in the face and take inventory. And what better place to do it than surrounded by warm breezes, gentle lapping waves, and naked chickens?

The next day, before catching a shuttle back to Recife, I raced back into town with the sole purpose of buying a souvenir chicken of my very own. I was enamored by a magnificent wooden creature that I saw hidden in a store window the previous day. I could just picture it sitting in my apartment, a colorful testament to the wonderful journey I was taking.... I was so tempted to buy it. And come on people, how could I not??

So I bought it. And packed it around with me in a HUGE box for the entire rest of my trip, cursing the day of its purchase (For the record, the blessed chicken is currently on display in my pad and looks great. Remember, when in doubt, buy it. You'll most likely never be back).

I got back to Recife later that night and decided I would make an effort to find and go to the Temple.

I hopped a taxi, and a very confusing 40 minutes later, I arrived...looking and feeling the part of a sister missionary gone bad. I stared at myself in utter humiliation and smiled.

The experience was magnifico mesmo. And oh-so worth it. Towards the end of the session, I looked behind me and saw two men enter in the back of the room. I did a double-take, as I recognized one of them as my old mission president, Presidente Soares. Talk about a moment. Couldn't have planned that if we tried... We made eye contact and signaled to meet up with each other afterwards.

Now pardon the gush-factor, but seeing Pres. Soares, even for a few seconds on such a random occasion, thousands of miles from home, stirred up some intense emotions. I just wanted to give him a big hug, because in that moment, he was a symbol of God's love and mindfulness of me right then. Just as God had taken care of me, blessed me, and recognized my efforts in the mission field so many moons ago, He was doing so right now in my life. And hadn't forgotten me.

And how's this for an anti-climatic and somewhat pathetic end to the story. I stood outside the Temple looking around for Presidente Soares, alone, in the dark, like a lost animal of sorts, waiting for my big bear hug. And as luck would have it, he had already fled the scene a few moments earlier!!! I was only slightly crushed when I made the realization that he probably hadn't recognized who I was in the first place! That's okay folks; I'm used to it, and my moment was still good!

I stood in the still of the night, dressed in the most hideous, frumpalicious, missionary-like outfit that I could possibly wear. I was decked out with all the appropriate gear: from the walking shoes; to the bag; to the unsightly cotton t-shirt and stretchy skirt ensemble; topped off with bare, white legs, no makeup, and plenty of sweaty goodness to go around.

I don't even think I looked this bad on my mission. And that's saying a lot. Meanwhile, an onlooker had been staring me down from a nearby bench. The silence was finally broken with her confession.. she thought I was a sister-missionary who had just ended her mission. Who was standing there alone, for the first time, with no companion. No family. No friends to meet her.

This girl's heart was aching for me.

In other words, I looked completely pathetic AND frumpy.

After enjoying a good laugh, I found a taxi back back to my hotel, dropped in at a restaurant to pig-out at a scrumptious Brazilian buffet, and walked home along the waterfront.

It was nearly midnight. I waited for the cat calls, but they never came...

*hmmm, my little taste of the northeast was sure a treat. I savored the dirty and the clean. The big city and the small towns. The chaos and the calm. And I was suddenly very ready to forge ahead----*

Brazil Stop 2: Jungle Walk (a LONG post, bring snacks)

As our plane descended into Manaus, I looked for any sign of city life. But all I could see were miles and miles of dense foliage and muddy rivers, as far as the eye could see. Parked along side the runway were three beat-up & tattered planes with old, metal parts scattered upon the ground. It was such a peculiar sight, and yet it seemed to welcome me, as if to say, it's time to get a little dirty. It's time to breathe in a little deeper and live a little freer. And yes, that is exactly what I did in the Amazon. It was pure, unadulterated freedom.
We loaded our bags onto a boat that would take us 2.5 hours up the river to our secluded jungle lodge. And no, I was not complaining about being rocked by gentle breezes in my hammock. On board with me was a Hungarian couple and an 18-year old, native tour-guide who had been sent from the lodge to retrieve us.

As the Hungarians busted open the Vodka to celebrate (I had to kindly decline their offer several times), I enjoyed talking with the guide. We taught each other new vocabulary from our respective languages and I learned about how life really is in this area of the world.

As our boat approached the "Ariu Towers," I honestly felt as if I had entered the middle of nowhere.

From the distance, we could see an array of circular, wooden structures that were raised up high in the trees, supported by beams. It was like out of a story book.

As we carried our things in, I was taken back by the beauty of the green landscape around me.

I was also caught off guard by the golf carts, used to transfer luggage from the boats. Just when I thought I had entered the wilderness, I was reminded that this was still, very much, a hotel.

Yep, the lady they hired to dress like a native and adorn us with beaded jewelry was also a dead give away. But hey, it was still a nice gesture.

I was thrilled to spot my first Macaw parrot, who had flown over to perch on one of many feeders.

And I was equally thrilled when I spotted a monkey running along the window-sill in the lobby. I couldn't wait to go discover where all his other monkey companions were hanging out.

What made this place incredible were the expansive wooden walkways. Raised high above the ground, these rickety mazes let you walk, quite literally, in the tree-tops. It was magical. As it was approaching sunset, I set out to explore...and find monkeys.

I spotted several of them playing in the trees and perched on ledges--not a single one willing to hold still for the camera. But I was perfectly content to sit back and watch them simply be monkeys.

As I continued my walk, I spotted a tall wooden tower with what looked like stairs that I could climb....sort of.

This intrigued the heck out of me because I love discovering the "undiscovered," locating hidden treasures and secret hideaways, and taking in ANYTHING with a view. I've realized that I simply love to climb things, (buildings, mountains, ladders, you name it) and then bask in the view from on top. I guess it's just my thing. So how perfect that I found a tower to climb. And since there was no WARNING sign or yellow tape strung across the edifice, I climbed.

As I climbed, I tried not to listen to the screeching wood or look down between the gaping cracks in the floor boards. When I reached the top, I wondered if I was even allowed up here. According to the sign above, this was part of the "Amazon River Project" (whatever the heck that is) and one is not supposed to "touch." Touch what?? The tower? Too late for that I guess.

Once on top, I felt like I had been transported to another world (and although I haven't quite mastered the art of taking flattering pictures of myself, I gave it my best shot).

I stood still and watched every last drop of sun go down...

staring at the expansive canopy of trees around me and wondering what kind of wonderful creatures were hiding beneath it all. And then, since I had my ipod on me (when do I not?), I busted out The Mission soundtrack to set the moment to music. It felt so cheezy, and yet so right.

When it was dark, I slowly made my way down the tower and back to home base. There was a wonderful spread for dinner, and I met up with a nice group of travellers--including a couple from DC who live just a few minutes from my house.

After dinner, it was time to play with the monkeys. Although they look innocent enough, if you go near them with food in you hands, it's all over.

As I stood munching on a piece of bread, I suddenly felt something jump onto my leg. I looked down and there was a monkey clinging to me. My instinct was to scream and start turning around in circles to fling it off. This of course made the monkey even more excited. He climbed up my shirt, onto my arm, and snatched the bread right out of my hands. Nasty little monkey.

If you've got cash to blow, you can complete your Amazon experience by staying the night in one of these super authentic suites with the thatched doors. Just thought I'd pass that along.

My room was very basic and very wooden. But I did have a small balcony that opened up to the trees. And although I was caged in by a fence, I enjoyed leaving the door open so that I could fall asleep to the sound of all things natural.

I was up bright and early. I wanted to make sure I got to eat all the different varieties of bananas that were on display (fried, cooked, baked, grilled, and smashed into pudding).

Running high on good carbohydrates, it was time to take a jungle hike with our two native tour guides. We took a small, motorized boat down the river to begin the mini trek--with swarms of white birds following at our side.

Our group consisted of 2 Russians, 2 Swiss, and myself. And then there was Ramirez. The Guide of all Guides--totally macho, purely Amazon-bred, completely "one" with the jungle. And I loved that he carried an assortment of knives in his pants.

Besides pointing our eyes in the direction of wonderful hidden beauties,

Ramirez and his boy side-kick taught us a variety of invaluable lessons about jungle survival.

For starters, we learned how to make blow-guns from sharp spears found on the local trees.

We were taught how to make fire from palms,

and how to extract "special" milk from the trees. When mixed with eggs, you get a wonderful steroid-like drink that people use here to beef up. But hey, it's all natural!

We saw trees that are used to make perfume,

and learned how to extract and eat larvae.

And most importantly, we memorized the three rules of what to NEVER ingest in the jungle. All things: 1. Hairy; 2. Acidic; and 3. Milky. Yeah, I didn't really get it either.

Finally, we called out bats from this tree and made crowns from palm leaves to adorn our heads.

I was so hot and sticky upon my return to the lodge, that I had to strip off all my clothes and lay like a lifeless creature on my bed to cool off. But not for too long...

I had spotted this little fellow around the lodge a few times before and wanted to see if he would pay any attention to me. So I waited until he flew down onto this ledge.

Being the "bird person" that I am, having grown up with three in my house, I figured that I would have a real knack for making friends with this little guy. I went over to talk to him,

and the little runt took it personally. He started charging after me with his beak wide open, out for the kill. Maybe he thought I was another parrot. After all, we were dressed alike in our blue an yellow attire. So much for being sweet.

The monkeys were much more willing to socialize and be affectionate.

The last part of my Amazon adventure took place one afternoon in the pouring rain. Since no one was willing to forgo our trip to visit the "native family," we decided to brave the elements. This time, I went with a boat full of Koreans an hour up the river. We were pelted by heavy rain and tossed around by the agitated water. The best part was that I was with a boat full of Koreans.

I did as they did, and sported the "Capo de Chuva." I was so grateful to have a big piece of plastic covering me.

OK. So I'll admit that I was a little skeptical of this so-called "native" family. I mean, how native could they really be--especially having tourists like me come to visit their "village" on a daily basis? I bet they were paid to be native.

Well, they definitely were native, but in an unconventional way. They lived completely off the land, rarely left their secluded village, and gave birth to 14 of their 15 children right there with no doctors. So I'll give them partial credit for that. But was that a bottle of Palmolive dishwashing soap I saw hidden on the shelf?

I enjoyed watching them make "tapioca" on the hot, open hearth and seeing how they grind their own tapioca flour from this medieval-looking contraption.

We saw how they worked the land using slash-and-burn agricultural methods. I observed their pots of herbs and plants used for medicinal purposes, and discovered that crushing and extracting the juice from pineapple leaves induces labor in pregnant women.

On our way back when the rain let up, our boat full of Koreans stopped to go pirahna fishing. Piranhas are plentiful in these waters, and come in various colors and sizes. So after a brief lesson, I gave it a whirl.

I felt a little wimpy with my catch of the day and a little guilty for taking its life. But I did taste the fruit of our labors at dinner--and frankly, it wasn't so tasty.

The night before I left, I took a boat out to go Kayman spotting along the river. Kayman are crocodile-like animals, but are generally smaller. With a large flashlight in hand, the guides partnered up to scope out the shoreline in search of these critters. And then came the highlight of the night; one guide jumped into the bushes to pull THIS out with his bare hands...

and bring it onto our boat.

This is officially the definition of "Hard Core."

The guide secured the creature in his hands, clamping down on its neck and jaw, and placing it in a trance of sorts. We observed it, touched it, and learned everything you could ever hope to learn about this species.

It felt surreal to touch something so completely fresh from the wild.

And then we let it sink back down into its dark, watery home. On our way back to the lodge, we learned how to spot the Kayman for ourselves. When you flash a light in their direction, you will see the reflection of their orange, iridescent eyes shining back at you. You wouldn't believe how many of these glowing, orange balls I saw peering out from under dark bushes and lurking right beneath the water's surface. And I was glad I didn't know, up until that point.

And finally, we stopped our boat in the middle of the river, turned off the motor, and sat in the still of the night. We listened to the sound of the river, trees, and sky. The silence was completely deafening. We just don't realize it until we shut up and listen.

It's good to take time to be still. It's good to take time to reflect. To remember. To see and not just look. To explore our environment and ourselves. To find the view and love it. In the jungle, or wherever it happens to be-- yes, profound, I know.