By 300 Sandwiches
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After 24 hours, I have arrived in paradise and reunited with E. I am in Jericoacoara, Brazil, a fishing village turned tourist destination for kitesurfers and others who enjoy getting off of the grid. Here is where I learned yet again that when E says, “the 24 hours of travel will suck, but you’ll love it once you get here,” he is a man of his word.
On our first date, E promised to take me to Miami. By our forth date, we partied in South Beach. On Thanksgiving, he told me he was taking me to South Africa, and proceeded to book a ticket and shuttle me between vineyards, kitesurfing and the best restaurants in Cape Town. E also promised me that after a 10 hour flight to Sao Paolo, another three hour plane ride to Fortaleza and a four hour drive through rural Brazil, I would arrive in the best place in the world.
I had lost faith in his word after I was left sulking over the bagged claim conveyor belt for 45 minutes at 4 am hopefully waiting for my luggage in Fortaleza, and then couldn’t find my ride to Jeri when I walked outside to the transportation area (and no, I don’t speak Portuguese). The only guy I saw that resembled a driver was a casually dressed man with a sign that had neon green illegible writing of a name that was not mine.
But after the driver found me (the name on the sign was E’s friend), we hopped in his truck and sped through favelas, countryside and fishing villages during a bumpy four hour trek. Somehow, some way, I ended up in paradise. Just like E promised.
This photo was from our first night here. Seems there would be plenty of time to obtain sandwiches for him while I’m here. Notice the Portuguese spelling. Saboroso!by
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