The Last Stop

ALMOST BRAZIL -- It´s close. Heck, the final country is even in sight if I crane my neck just so. Riding up to the border, signs inexplicably begin drifting into a Portuguese until -- SHAZAM! -- the roadside distance markers cease ticking down to zero and spring up to 600. Now, however, is not the time to talk about what lies ahead. Sure, a day or so will be whittled away getting paperwork cleared; but I´m talking ¨1200+-miles-to-Rio not the time¨. The remaining road lies long yet. Instead, a Thanksgiving recap is in proper order, no? For once, I made light of a heated boast and discovered that sandy beach, found that driftwood to prop against. Even the hammock was put into play!

Admittedly, I didn´t have the opportunity to lash it to palms or bore into a coconut from the same tree but the weather only gets warmer farther north. It´s certainly a start. Dinner, concocted of what can be made on a single burner of mediocre heat, was simple. In the true Turkey Day spirit, we made juuuuust enough to leave leftovers. Slap together a crackling fire, uncork some fine, fine wine, and all that´s lacking is the family and the dark meat.

With no one in sight and only the swell to talk back, I can´t exaggerate how relaxing a beach holiday can be. Give it a shot sometime.