Barry text: "Where are you?"

Kristi text: "At the exchange point!"

Barry text: "So are we!!!!"

     The morning of the relay was an uneventful one.  Becca, Amy and I had some pleasant chat in the room and met the gang around 9:00 for hotel sponsored breakfast.  Waffles, eggs, sausage, and potatoes, a good cup of coffee and planning the important stuff, like where to buy fake mustaches.  The costume goods that weren't provided by Becca's costume closet would come from the Dollar Tree on HWY 95.  Our group consisted of five women and myself, the lone ranger.  Becca and Amy were my bunk mates the night before the race.  We picked them up in Sandpoint where they dropped Becca's car.  Since we hadn't had much contact before this race they were both virtual strangers to me.  Fortunately, Becca and Amy turned out to be really good people.  My impression of them would only improve over the next twenty-nine hours.  Kristi was a new acquaintance as well.  The middle school librarian in Hamilton shatters stereotypes.  She has an adventuresome spirit, is a bit competitive, and has a great sense of humor.  We nicknamed her "Hot Rod" or "Violet" depending upon whether she was wearing the purple wig or not.  My other two teammates, Jess and Holly rode with me all the way from Missoula to Coeur D' Alene.  Holly and I are soccer parents and have known each other through those avenues for years now.  Holly is an asset to have in any endeavor that requires organization.  She is continuously upbeat and always a great person to have a conversation with.  Plus, when you need something done, its done right.  Jess is a food lover and we share an affinity for all things with bacon.  Jess is a comfortable person to have a laugh with.  Her encouragement and humor would be valuable for all of us later in the race.  Amy, Becca, Holly, Jess, Kristi, and Shannon were gonna make Montana Mules - Van #2, the envy of the entire race.  Then.....

     The text.  As it turns out the first exchange was at Sontag Park no matter how much we wanted it to be at exchange point #7.  Fortunately it would be the only detail of consequence we would overlook the entire race. 

LEGS SEVEN THROUGH TWELVE / VAN #2.

     The order of runners was set for the whole race right from the beginning.  Amy ran first, followed by Holly and then Kristi, Jess was fourth, I was fifth then Becca would be our anchor.  When the text came through that we were at the wrong exchange we hustled like crazy to exchange point six for Amy.  Generally speaking you would like to be in a place of peace and preparedness when you take the baton from your teammate.  The fact that Brandi, the anchor for Van #1, is over six feet tall lends an air of consequence to the hand off.  After all who would want to intentionally piss off a person who can get so much painful leverage on your body?  Obviously no one in their right mind.  Amy is a very right minded person and a solid team player.  Brandi had a great outlook, and in spite of the late hand-off we all shrugged it off and immediately moved forward.  Forgiveness is a powerful healer.  Amy headed out for a good leg and we were in the groove.  Over the first four legs we covered some ground in areas of Spokane that I hadn't seen before.  Spokane is a place that has consistently surprised me. 

     Holly's leg was along the river and her exchange was on a footbridge.  The area was full of natural beauty and serenity.  The trail was cooled by the shade of pine trees and the river.  The steady sound of water rushing by lent a meditative quality to the setting.  Kristi had the toughest leg in this set of six.  After taking the handoff from Holly she had a steep hill to cover after getting off course temporarily.  "This hill sucks balls", I believe were her exact words.  From the looks of things, it did.  The hill was about a mile long from its' beginning and it was steep.  Jess had a relatively flat leg through the center of town and Riverfront Park.  Her leg was made difficult because navigation wasn't very intuitive.  This was complicated even further by the fact that locals would occasionally play with the route signs.  Jess put together a good run for the team and I hit the Centennial Trail for my 6.17 mile leg.  By now it felt like it was ninety-five degrees.  Other than having to wait for one crosswalk I had a good run paced at about eight minute miles for the hand off to Becca.  By the time I handed off my shirt was soaked and I needed to put some water and electrolytes back in the tank.  Becca ran strong and we picked her up at another beautiful park just outside of Spokane proper.  Van #2 was done with their first set of legs.  Our race responsibilities were turned over to Van #1 for the time being.  We took a short break, got some pictures of the team in their mustachioed faces, followed Kristi in her captains hat and scarf to the car and sought out a place to get a good bacon cheese burger, with sweat potatoe fries and, much to the delight of Jess and I, an additional side of bacon.  On the way we had a couple of shots of bourbon that immediately took the edge off the run and added to the euphoria of the moment.  We finished the first set with everybody feeling pretty good running right on schedule ready for the next set. 

LEGS NINETEEN THROUGH TWENTY-FOUR 

     After burgers, beers, bacon and enduring the unfortunate company of an annoying mother sitting at the table across from us, we arrived at our next exchange point early enough to get some rest.  The backseat of the Suburban turned into a nice nest with the addition of a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows.  I had the good fortune of taking advantage of this resting spot and collected a few well rested moments while Amy hit the trail for a 6.5 mile out and back near Coeur D' Alene lake.  It was dark now.  Very dark.  On a overcast night.  Running in the dark has advantages and disadvantages.  Since Amy was our first night runner we were keen to hear what she had to say.  The fact that all the runners had to wear flashing red lights and a headlight made them easy to spot.  This turned out to be something Holly was particularly fond of.  We all agreed that it stoked the competitive juices a bit being able to see each runner you were about to pick off.  The lack of light also contributed to a lack of navigational capacity, but it also eliminated some of the monotony of straight and out and back runs.  This would be good for our spirits.  The cool was the most welcome quality of night.  We all agreed that the cool air felt great and it produced our fastest time splits of the event.  Amy turned in a solid time and came in feeling great.  The cool was refreshing and she picked up three "kills".  Kills equal runners passed.  Amy's ass kickin' leg was motivating and I think it rubbed off on Holly. 

     Holly's leg was ridiculously short, a fact we would not let her forget.  At 2.10 miles it was the shortest leg of the relay.  In spite of the razzing, she took complete advantage of her sprinter's background and the good fortune of short distance to turn in the fastest splits of the entire relay for Van #2, while picking up 5 "kills".  Holly is a bit competitive.  The kill per mile ratio being greater than two to one was really good for her attitude, and ours.  Evidently those blinking red lights represented one target after another.  After catching her breath she was all smiles.  Kristi hit the trail next.  Bolstered by the cool night she bested her average split times by about thirty seconds per mile.  She joined the popular past time of the evening collecting two "kills" herself and came off the course feelin' like she brought some smack down on S2S.  Night running was definitely good for us.  Three fast times and a lot of good feelings. 

     Jess's turn to put in an effort.  Her leg was almost exactly seven miles.  A zigzag between Coeur D' Alene and Hayden.  The fact that her middle name is Hayden and she would finish on Lancaster Road, the namesake of the county she was born in, lent a touch of fate to this leg.  More good news, one kill and an uneventful hand off.  My nerves were getting the best of me before this run.  At 7.56 miles it was my longest leg.  I don't regularly run more than six miles.  The distance combined with the darkness, which is also new to me as a runner, and the lack of waypoints made me uneasy.  The map was a good friend of mine and I knew the route well.  My leg was straight for 5.58 miles then a left and on to the finish in 1.98 miles.  Not bad.  The author of the map made sure to mention one railroad crossing and two highways.  Be sure to stay alert.  He did not mention the second railroad crossing though.  The crossing that happened to be busy when I ran.  Just another curiosity to help keep you alert.  The cross road we made a left on was called East Cutoff Road on the map but was in fact Scarletto Road.  None of this would be of any consequence if you weren't running on one hour of sleep over the last twenty two hours in the dark in a strange place near the middle of nowhere, not a friend in sight without use of your cell phone.  Good judgment prevailed and I finished with eight minute splits.  Six kills. 

     The hand off to Becca was timed right and she hit highway forty-one with a smile on her face.  As we pulled out of the parking lot with Captain Rodriguez (Kristi) driving we were happily discussing our night runs.  Amy was asleep in the back and Jess and Kristi were in the front, Holly beside me in the second row.  Our conversation focused on how much fun this night running was and how great the pickles that Jess brought tasted.  Then we started up the long steep uphill portion of Becca's run.  I couldn't have been happier to be eating pickles in the van.  Becca's run would suck, but as we watched her cross the finish line she was in great spirits.  By then I had taken a shower and felt pretty good myself.  Becca handed off to Ken and we made plans to head to the next exchange and wait the five hours until Van #1 finished their final set of legs. 

LEGS THIRTY-ONE THROUGH THIRTY-SIX

     The lead-up to our final set of legs was a little more somber than the light hearted chattiness of our previous sets.  The effort thus far had taken a toll on our energy and the value of good teammates couldn't have been more obvious.  Amy again had the first leg.  It was her longest, at over eight miles.  Jess had a hip that was acting up and my calves were tired.  Becca was in an amazingly good mood and humor was still everyone's friend.  The idea that the end was in sight played into our hands as well.  At least when we were done with this round we wouldn't have anymore running to look forward to.  The fact that the finish was still more than twenty miles from our location started to become less daunting as the morning carried on.  There are times when there is nothing more reassuring than sharing a laugh with friends to convince your weary mind that all things are possible.  This hour was tailored for camaraderie and humor. 

     Amy hit her eight mile leg, van mates who needed coffee grabbed what they needed, and we hit the road.  The coffee was slow and Amy went out fast.  By the time we caught her I think she had covered about four miles.  As we pulled up, Journey's "Its' More Than A Feeling" came on and, being the supportive teammates we were, we felt compelled to serenade our friend.  She wanted to laugh but I think the stitch in her side got the better of her.  The smiling, grimace she gave us was enough to indicate how much she was suffering.  We drove down the road another mile or so and when she arrived we made a plan to have Holly pick up two miles of her leg.  Respite running is a part of endurance relay.  We drove to the next hill and waited.  Amy was apologetic, but we would have none of it.  She was our Guinea Pig.  She ran first.  We had the advantage of her experience before we had to run.  We had her advice from the previous relays she had run.  Her contribution was more than running.  Not to mention she ran more than fifteen miles of the relay in measured steady pace.  We couldn't have done this without her.

     Holly picked up and ran the last two miles of this leg and the more than two miles of her next leg.  Holly's flexibility was such an asset.  She killed her splits and handed off to Kristi who donned the purple wig for her last effort.  The day had heated up and the rain we were expecting never arrived.  This would be a theme that would not play out favorably throughout the remainder of the morning and early afternoon.  Kristi was so hot after her run that she jumped into the river to cool off.  By her reaction this may have been her best move of the relay.  I'm sure you could've convince her to swim a leg after her short dip, but Jess was on the road now and we needed to catch up.  Jess specifically requested that we wait a bit before heading up the road to catch up with her.  She wasn't sure how she would feel and wanted to get in the rhythm of her run before we caught her.  When we did I thought we scared her because of her startled reaction.  Hop step to the side, some shuffle jumping, and the words, "I'm so fucking hot" indicated that she was not scared but baking in the sun.  "Get me some water.  I need someone to pour some water on me.  I'm so fucking hot."  Water out.  Deluge over Jess' head.  Back in the van.  Jess on the road much cooler than before.  As we pulled along side of her we rolled the windows down and shouted, "She's so fucking hot".  Laughter.  We were getting delirious now. 

     I took the next hand off with water in my hand, two hundred yards behind Megan from team Rocket Cheetah.  The first two miles of my run were uphill.  When I caught Megan she had a cramp in her side and I needed some moral support from a fellow runner.  I asked if she would mind some company and we fell in step together.  Megan was twenty-one, from Spokane, with bright red hair, green eyes and a friendly smile.  Her company was great medicine.  She signed up as a single that was assigned by the race directors to her team.  We ran side by side for four miles and passed two more runners.  One of my regrets in this race was that I did not tell Megan how much I admired her spirit.  At twenty-one she signed on to run a twenty-nine hour race with strangers.  The courage she had surprised and inspired me.  Along the way my Montana Mules stopped a couple of times to play loud music and dance by the road side to encourage me to kick it along.  Good friends.  My hand off to Becca could not have come at a more perfect time.  My calves were crampy and I was ready to be done running.  Back in the van to cheer Becca on for the final four plus miles.  Becca knocked out her mileage and brought us home in 29:41:30.4.  We all crossed the line together happy to be done, better for the effort.

REFLECTION 
     There have been some great lessons learned from my first endurance relay.  The thought that you can do what you put your mind to may be the most important lesson gained from all this.  I will never again look at challenges in life the same way I did before this event.  I am still the same person that went but I will always carry the confidence of the resolve it took to do this.  The friendships that were forged because of this lunacy also carry great weight for me.  I owe my teammates a thank you for their support but at the same time gratitude for their friendship.  We were there for each other step by step.  Our individual accomplishments were of no consequence compared to our achievement as a team.  Add to this the achievement of Van #1 and its not long before you can see that harmony in mankind could be our greatest accomplishment.  Alignment and harmony are powerful concepts that provide tremendous results.  Never once did we focus on our differences, instead we had a common goal and the faith in one and other that its' achievement was within us. 

     There wasn't one team out of the eighty-three that entered that did not finish.  By my math that is more than 17,800 team logged miles in less than thirty six hours.  A monumental achievement by any measure. 

     Shed those things that throw you out of alignment and harmony, and have the resolve to do something great.  Remember you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.

     "Then my calf started to tingle and swell.  It would throb enough that I would sweat at my desk at work.  The only way I could get relief was to elevate my calf over my head and the minute I put it down the throbbing came back."

     I mentioned to Holly that I had been stung by a wasp playing soccer tennis with Connor in the driveway four days ago.  Everything seemed fine until today.  The same day we were to travel for the relay.  This monologue was delivered to me through Holly's cell phone by her friend Mike, just before we left for Idaho to run Spokane to Sandpoint.  Needless to say I did not find this information encouraging on the eve of my nineteen miles of participation, and suffering, with my team of twelve runners.  The other passenger, Jess, was slightly amused and maybe a bit concerned by the news we heard from Mike.  Frankly, this was the best news we heard from him.  Mike went on to explain that a high-school athlete from central Montana who had signed to play with the Bobcats in Bozeman had a similar thing happen and he had to have his foot amputated.  Needless to say I was happy to have the company of friends while my stomach was turning.  They could shepherd me through this with humor and camaraderie.  We had a little over two hundred miles on highway two hundred ahead of us on our trip to Sandpoint then Coure D Alene.  Plenty of time to get to know each other and mentally prepare for the lunatics endeavor ahead of us.

     Spokane to Sandpoint is a two-hundred-four mile foot race where teams of twelve assemble to participate in what the layman would consider idiocy.  Roughly twenty-nine hours of sleepless running, providing support to teammates, navigating unfamiliar routes, to test the stamina of the human spirit.  Easy right?  Wrong.  The team, assembled by Ken and Katy seemed smart, which was also a bit confusing to me.  After all how could such an intelligent group of people do something this ridiculous.  Maybe they needed a challenge outside of intellect to balance the measured pace of daily life.  Perhaps they wanted to test the boundaries of their friendships and get ornery with one and other after twenty-nine hours of close proximity in a smelly van.  The notion of being able to say I have done something that you have not might also provide some motivation.  Personally, a sense of accomplishing something significant outside of rational is motivating.  The triumph of mind.  Putting it out there and rolling with the reality you are faced with, and living in the moment are important exercises of self exploration and character.  Who really knows, the answers would come over the next couple of days.

     On the way to meet for dinner Jess quipped that it would be fun to watch Becca finish the race tomorrow.  When I pointed out to her that we actually finish the day after tomorrow she said that she refused to let that alter her perception of the idea that this was a one day event.  The notion that over one day of running with a team was too much, forced Jess to block the reality and roll with what made her comfortable.  I admired her approach.  The mind is powerful, convincing your body to operate outside of reality might be a good skill set to possess in the next short while. 


     Dinner was only the second time that I had met most of the people on my team.  Holly is someone I have known for a while.  Her son and mine play soccer together.  The rest are strangers to me.  In life, new acquaintances have been one of the elements that make the doldrums disappear.  Riffing off of one and other humanity is a beautiful thing.  New acquaintances generally spice up the dish.  Giving it new depth and altering the flavor of your experience.  This group would not be boring.  Good humor, a sense of joy and a comfortable good natured banter would make this event doable.  The support of my teammates in Van #2 would get me through.  I am confident now.  Tomorrow at mile thirteen I might feel different.  Only time will tell.

    Remember, you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.   

     "I was running and they came out of the bushes along the beach".

     "Skylar, don't worry.  It'll be okay", Peter said.

     "Wait dad, there's more....".

     This was the exchange moments before the final between Argentina and Germany.  The day had been a good one, thus far.  "Just another shitty day in paradise", was how one of my good friends would begin calling extended vacations in amazing places.  Connor and I took the day off from the beach to hang around the pool and play some games there.  Understanding that our beach time would be cut short by the start of the World Cup final.  Clearly a momentous event, planned for days earlier, to be held at the Roxy Bar in Praia Du Frances.  Our good friend Peter making all the arrangements.  Personally, the wait for the final began months ago with the planning of this trip.  This game was charged with expectation.  What would it be like to witness the World Cup final in a bar in Brazil, the most soccer crazed country in the world?  The answer would turn out to be a lot different than I had expected.

     The game was not a disappointment.  There was a small betting pool assembled by Charlie Vandam that assured we would all have a little skin in the game.  Genius on his behalf.  The Roxy Bar had cold beer and pizza and a gigantic projection screen for us to view the game.  Being after 2:30 in the afternoon the edge had worn off the sun in our open air bar.  The table was set.  We arrived eager to witness the crowning of the undisputed kings of the beautiful game through the competition unfolding in front of us.  Argentina was the sentimental favorite of our group.  Germany was the rational favorite.  The Argentines possessing a solid defense and the ability to strike, through arguably the world's best player, Lionel Messi.  Messi is made even more impressive by his humble nature and very un-soccer like quality of not flopping, in combination with his magical ball control skills.  He holds the spirit of the game in his hands with children across the world, our boys included.  When they talk about Messi there is a tambour in their voices that is reserved for few.  They are reverent toward Messi.  He is a Demi-god representative of the soccer god's work here on earth.  The Germans, on the other hand, in possession of the best developed system in the game.  Bringing up quality players on mostly even footing playing a balanced and measured game grinding opponents into submission.  Confident and cool in their dismantling of opponents, they play from solid foundations with odds on their side.  Dispassionate but effective.  It maybe the fact that we were in Brazil or, it may be the fact we like underdogs, but by the time this final had rolled around we were all ready to witness a little magic happen.  We wanted to see a team that played with passion and flair win The Cup not some Teutonic super power.  Argentina in favor of Germany.  Then, "Wait dad, there's more....".

     Skylar had been out for a run before the game.  As any sane person would he was running on the beach.  The sun was shining and the ocean breeze made the heat more tolerable.  This day he was jumped by five Brazilians, three of whom had knives.  I cannot imagine how terrifying it had to be to face five, as one, in nothing but your running shoes and shorts.  Fortunately from them and him there was no language barrier, as Skylar speaks Portuguese.  They wanted his money, of which he had none.  They wanted to know where he was staying, to which he smartly gave them a bit of bad information, "A pousada in Praia Du Frances".  Then they informed him that if he didn't come back to them with $500 Real by 7:00 that night they would come to town and kill him.  On its' face an all together ugly situation, a pure act of bullying and cowardice.  In Skylar's understandably shaken self, terrifying.  The only reason I bring any of this up is that it provided me with a stark counterpoint to the rest of our trip.  We have been guests in Brazil hosted by some of the most gracious people with their arms and hearts open.  On the other side of the coin there are always less hospitable people everywhere you go.  Up to this point I hadn't seen any of them yet.  We spent most of our time visiting the state of Alagoas.  Alagoas is one of the poorest states in Brazil.  There are people here that don't have anything.  They live from day to day with bleak prospects and little to rely on.  In full view of the individuals affording meals on the beach being waited on hand and foot, sipping beers laughing and carrying on without a care in the world.  I imagine this can be hard to accept when your circumstances are so much less than your fellow man.  Envy is as destructive as anger, emotionally.  I also can imagine, being tucked away in the bushes far down the beach away from everyone they might've been getting high and Skylar was a target of opportunity they couldn't resist.  After all what did they have to lose.  It may have been a social balancing of accounts, in their minds the rational for their actions.  This was no Robin Hood and his band of thieves stealing from the rich to give to the poor, though.  Just five bullies acting outside the threat of legal retaliation hoping to scare up enough money for their next fix.  In conference with the owner of the Roxy Bar, it became clear that this happens a fair amount.  My singular intellengence on the perpetrators being high at the time of the attack.  One of the Brazilian friends in our group told us that there was no point in reporting this to the authorities.  Connor was nervous and it took me a while to help him reason through the likely hood of five guys coming to the bar to kill Skylar by 7:00.  It seem very unlikely to me.  Less so to him.  He kept his eye on the back of the establishment for a while.  I wish I could've offered him a beer to settle his nerves.  Skylar got an escort back to the guesthouse for a shower and returned for second half. 

     Brining us back to the game.  I missed most of the first half with all the commotion.  The second half was highly entertaining ending regulation in a tie, 0-0.  Both sides were creating opportunities and each had the chance to end the game in regulation but the fates expected more soccer this Cup.  Extra time finally yielded a goal for the Germans by a well placed substitute, Mario Gotze.  The goal itself a pretty piece of skill coming from a crossing ball from the left wing to be chested down for a right footed finish.  There was nothing the Argentine keeper could do.  The Germans celebrated, scoring what turned out to be the winning goal in the 113th minute.  In an ironic twist Skylar picked Germany to win 1-0 scoring in the 109th minute of play to take home the betting pool.  This fact alone is a sure sign that there are higher powers at work in our lives.  The dissonance early in the evening returned to harmony and balance.  Elemental justice.  Skylar smiling, everyone reveling in a game well played even though the sentimental favorites were being sent home in second place.  Messi was voted man of the tournament in another twist.  His hard work, beautiful play making, and honorable style earning him what the winning teams best player couldn't. 

     All in all a heady evening in Brazil.

     Signing off for the final time in Brazil, wishing you all the Karma you deserve, be it good or bad.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.

     "I'm not going to give everyone one a hug.  I'm too old and don't like goodbyes"

     Ada's comment before we all loaded on the bus once again and bid farewell to her Pousada.  She wasn't being rude but instead sincere.  I'm quite sure goodbyes were not her forte', she seemed a bit sad, and she didn't want to delay our already late arriving bus.  Our leather faced host with the Tom Waits voice was wonderful to us during our stay in Pontal Du Corouripe.  Filling us in on local politics and history while we ate.  Making her contribution to our understanding of the place.  One of the spices that lend depth to a dish.  I wanted to give her a hug anyway but thought it best to let it play out the way she preferred.  No hug.  Load up.  The intense sun was smoking hot this morning and the bus was packed full with luggage and people.  Not one seat open and luggage in the isles.  The air conditioner was not doing the job we had hoped it would.  Our driver was sweaty and I was sweaty.  The trip would be about an hour to Praia Du Frances.  We needed some ventilation and needed to get rolling.  Amy and Peter said a short farewell to Ada and we were off.

     The countryside is mostly what you'd expect along a coastal road.  Lots of palms, a few glimpses of the beach here and there, sugar cane fields everywhere, and a stiff breeze blowing in off the ocean.  The breeze felt so good.  Like a cool drink of water after a bit of work in the sun.  There were constant reminders we were in Brazil along the way.  Stray dogs here and there, very basic dwellings most of which would be used for storage in the United States, not living.  The road was rougher today than from Penedo, contributing to a pleasant rocking motion that helped me sleep off most of the trip.

     The word passed around from Amy was that the house waiting for us at the end of todays short bus ride was big and much nicer than our accommodations with Ada.  Confirmed upon arrival our house was big, had a pool and a yard with a small tiled courtyard that turned into a short sided futsol court at the whim of the boys.  Short games to two in a twenty by twenty cover courtyard added a pleasant hum during our stay here.  Even though the house had seven bedrooms and four bathrooms some of us had to sleep on the floor.  Although I would describe the house as nice it struck me as a true representation of the country we were visiting.  It looked good but, upon closer inspection, you had to let go of some of the details.  The hot water was in extremely short supply.  The mattresses where thin.  There were no pillows and we had to use dish towels for the showers we took.  Being that there were twenty one of us using the facilities the bathrooms had an unpleasant aroma and we would need to supply our own toilet paper.  Still, somehow I found myself wanting to like it here.  Much like a person would root for the underdog rather than the odds on favorite.  The perfect mirror of my feelings toward Brazil.  So much potential.

     We arrived early enough in Praia Du Frances to unpack and get in a little beach time.  The beach is why we were here, and if I'm honest it would prove to be a much better place to watch the world cup than Pontal Du Corouripe.  After settling in for an hour or so we collectively headed down the street to the beach front.  I cannot stress enough how beautiful the beaches are here.  Praia Du Frances had a busy beach but it was far from crowded.  The sand was fine like sugar and easy on the bottom of your feet.  The breeze blew in cool from the ocean and the water temps were outstanding.  The sun, after about 2:30 lost a lot of its' intensity, contributing to the perfectly balanced afternoon.  The surroundings here are so special I can't imagine being on a nicer beach in my lifetime.  After being here I don't care if I find a nicer beach in my lifetime.  Having been to the top of K2 I wouldn't need to scale Everest.  I took my fair share of turns trying to body surf but could only catch one decent ride into the beach.  No matter, I would count my blessings tonight with full realization that today was a landmark day in my life.  Another waypoint to measure the rest of days.

     Adding to the luxury of the day, was the fact that we had a kitchen now and some good cooks to go along with it.  Peter bought fresh fish and two kilos of huge fresh caught shrimp while we were in Corouripe and several people had been gracious enough to do some shopping while the others were at the beach.  Dinner that night was great.  The evenings we've had the company of the group for dinner have been some of the best moments of this trip for me.  The meals are good and the conversations have been entertaining.  Tonight, preparations were brought up a notch by the promise of the consolation game between Brazil and Holland.  Unfortunately for us this cup has been a tale of two teams for Brazil.  The one with Neymar and the one without.  I admire Brazil's willingness to take risks on the field.  Their style can be so much fun to watch, but without Neymar they don't have enough thread to sew the seems together.  Against strong teams this fact is magnified even more because they exploit your weaknesses mercilessly.  The goals came for the Netherlands in a similar fashion to the way they did for Germany against Brazil.  The game was disappointing to watch.  The disappointment washed away quickly with a great meal and the percussive sounds of two on two soccer in the courtyard. 

     Singing off from Praia Du Frances, Brazil, wishing you all my best on your way to K2, or Everest.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.

     Farewell Penedo.  Our eleven o'clock departure came a little sooner than we were all prepared for.  Peter, Amy and family had a lot of goodbyes to say.  Maybe a dozen friends came by the pousada to see them off.  It is clear that Penedo is very close to their hearts and the feeling is reflected by the people here they have befriended.  Some of them brought gifts but most I think just wanted one last word and a goodbye.  This could be the last time they see each other, though I imagine the Ragsdale-Starks will find their way back here.  Penedo has gravitas in their lives.  One of the many planets in their galaxy, it will always maintain its orbit.  I have a hard time imagining how one family can belong to so many people, the whole time realizing how fortunate I am to be among them.  I have learned a lot about generosity and community while I've been here.  The work that Molly did for the local capoeira and the donation she made.  Peter's time spent with the local soccer community and the games and parties he arranged with them.  Amy working with local officials to get Bentinho passage to the United States for a visit and exchange of culture with her dance company.  Skylar effortlessly arranging two on two games every night at the plaza with friends from Montana and Penedo alike.  All of this will be returned to them many times over both in friendship and community.  Most of the people here have very little compared to the standard of the US.  The locals do know they have community and the support that goes along with it.  I'm sure that if we came back five years from now we could still go down to the campo and see Manuel organizing games.  Bentinho will still be teaching capoeira in the community center.  Both understanding how important it is for their communities of people to have something to look forward to.  Realizing the work they do will be returned to them in less traditional ways than monetary exchange.  I was here to witness all this first hand, more or less as a participant.  What a blessing.

     The bus left at about 11:45.  On time by Brazilian standards.  The trip to Pontal Du Corouripe would last about and hour and a half.  As we got closer to the coast we passed coconut plantations and sugar cane fields.  The sun soaking them in a shower of beautiful light.  Our bus driver had a heavy right foot and we were making good time.  The journey to the beach was pleasant even if the countryside was rushing by.  Our destination today was Ada's Pousada. 

     Ada's Pousada is a quaint collection of simple casitas about three blocks from the beach.  The ceilings are open and the living conditions are clean and basic.  We do have hot showers though, and so far all of the outlets work.  Ada is the proprietor.  She was born in Italy and raised in Germany and Brazil as a child.  She has lived in Pontal since she was a young girl and has a strong connection to the place.  She's about 5'3" and ninety pounds.  I would put her in her seventies.  She has a smoking habit and a Tom Waits voice.  Towards us she has a very sweet disposition but I would hate to line up on the other side of the fence against her.  I'm sure she has a very strong sense of justice with indifference toward the conflict that can go along with it.  As our host, purely gracious.  As an enemy purely pernicious.  I could tell I was going to enjoy my stay at Ada's.  Happy that I was on the right side of the fence in harmony with our host.

     Our arrival was a bit chaotic as we had to get our things off the bus and out of the rain and settle up on who was staying in which of the many casitas.  Amy undertook that responsibility and we headed for lunch.  Our landing spot was a beautiful restaurant overlooking the beach.  Just a roof over a patio with a landing overlooking the bay.  Special.  The food turned out to be as good as the view.  We hung out there for about an hour and a half then got together for some beach time. 

     It was late in the afternoon by the time we got to the beach and there was a lot of space for us.  The water was as warm as the cooling night.  Of course there was soccer all around us.  Connor and I managed to kick the ball around some happily whiling away the time until the sunset.  The sun sets quickly near the equator making it very dramatic.  With a few clouds in the sky it was spectacular.  The cherry on top of a perfect day.

     We joined together for dinner at a restaurant owned by Ada's daughter Anna.  Again, the food was great made better by the company of friends.  The constant hum of conversations around us about soccer, the region, television shows, the day on the beach all contributing to the perfect balance struck in the day.  I would sleep good tonight in my shared accommodation.

     Signing off from Pontal Du Corouripe, Brazil, wishing you balance and harmony in your day.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.

     The focus of today was the campo game Peter had arranged for the boys and fathers who came to Brazil to play a bit of the beautiful game.  Unfortunately for me, the five stitches in between my toes excluded me from playing.  "Shannon, I really feel bad for you about not being able to play" was Charlie's comment to me before he headed off to the field with Peter and the seven boys. Coming from Charlie this really did mean something.  Both Charlie and Peter understand the significance of coming to Brazil for the World Cup, having the opportunity to play with the locals on their field with a mixed group and the loss you feel when half of that equation is not playing out the way you had planned.  Charlie's sympathy was welcome and I wanted to have a good cry but I didn't.  At least Connor was going to have the chance to hit the field with this group.  He was the youngest player on the pitch.  I'm proud to say he held his own for the first half before taking a knock and deciding to sit the second half.  The campo field here is one of the nice fields in Penedo.  It is mostly covered with grass, mostly flat, except for a few dips here and there, and the footing is good, except for a few muddy spots and the sandy areas in front of both goals.  Without a doubt Missoulians have nothing to complain about.  We can always move the bar up but compared to the average small town in Brazil we've got it good. 

     Brazilians at this level play a different, less organized, brand of soccer than we do in the states.  They really are more focused on individual effort than team results.  It can be beautiful and frustrating to watch.  Constantly wishing that they would pass the ball to the open man to make the game more interesting was a frustrating thing to see.  There were a few players on the field that possessed amazing talent though.  Aladine was one of them Juninho another.  They scored most of the goals.  Partly because they didn't like to pass when they were near the goal, and partly because they could bring the skill and quality to get open enough to have a clear shot without passing.  They were fun to watch possessing great athletic ability and amazing foot speed.  Aladine had the most powerful shot.  Made more remarkable by the fact that he couldn't weigh much more than a hundred thirty pounds soaking wet.  On the other end of the scale was a guy we called The Matador.  He had to weigh in close to three hundred pounds.  With a belly big enough to house a small family, The Matador didn't see much of the ball.  He could run a few short steps and hold space but as you can imagine his footwork wasn't fast anymore.  I admired him for his perseverance.  The game consisted of two forty minute halves then a party. 

     The barbeque was manned by the Brazilians and paid for by their American patrons.  We had pitched in to buy what was needed and by the looks of things many more people were going to join us while we ate, drank, and watched the Brazil v Germany semi final.  We were never joined by more people but we had a great time packed into the small clubhouse to watch the historic competition unfold.  Germany was ahead by five goals within the first thirty minutes of the first half.  Disbelief.  How could the host nation fall apart like this.  We all wondered what would happen with Neymar out, his back broken by a Colombian player in the previous game, and Thiago Silva on the bench with too many yellows.  It couldn't have played out any worse of the Brazilian team.  No one expected them to fall apart.  The Brazilian defense was full of holes the mechanical German team exploited with ease.  Brazil couldn't generate any offense to take the pressure off their defense and the result was the most lopsided loss in the history of a World Cup semi final.  It was so bad that the Brazilian president apologized to the nation the following morning.  The mood in our clubhouse didn't change much.  Still in a mind to party and drink, our Brazilian friends didn't slow down any.  They were upset, making fun of there team and country.  Using the Brazilian flag to clean up a mess here and there, but resolute in their quest to have a good time.  They don't have much to look forward to here.  Their prospects are pretty grim if I'm honest.  The promise of having fun in the immediate future outweighing the consequence of any future payment explained the temporary ideal most of the people we've met hear hold dear.  Nevertheless I was grateful that they didn't implode and get mad and cross.  We easily could've been leaving post haste afraid we might be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Instead, this group shook it off and had fun anyway. 

     Connor had come back to the pousada for the game and by the time I got back he had showered and explained to me that he didn't want to play in tomorrow's arranged game.  His ankle was bothering him a bit but more to the point he didn't like playing with the Brazilians.  Their sense of team and system of play was all wrong in his mind.  "They're selfish", he said.  I couldn't agree more.  Then he headed up to the square above the pousada with Skylar and the boys to play two on two soccer.  Usually a little soccer therapy is just what he needs to clear his mind and come around.  Surprisingly tonight when he arrived back he was standing by his decision to not play.  It looked like we'd have a little more father son time tomorrow which was just fine with me.

     Signing off for the last time from Penedo, Brazil, wishing you all a little adventure and promise in your day.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less the you want.

     Today I had to make my first visit to a supermarket.  Not sure what to expect I was pleasantly surprised how easy it was to get the various sundries I had run out of on the trip.  Now I could take my shower and head to breakfast, get my bearings on the day and see Penedo.  Penedo is a town of about twenty thousand people that was originally colonized by the Portuguese.  The buildings are all shoulder to shoulder painted in various bright colors trimmed in white.  Some of them have faded a fair bit.  The sun bleaching the pigment turning them into pastel colors.  Painters here have permanent employment as far as I can tell.  There are churches all over the place.  In fact the pousada we occupy was formerly a wealthy land owner's house that had a private chapel attached.  It is quaint and steadfastly beautiful against the weather of time.  Welcoming and hospitable.  Home for the four nights we stay in Penedo.

     Amy and Peter had graciously agreed to show us around town a bit so we could be a little self sufficient while we were here.  Connor and I joined the group and saw the local market.  Much larger than I had expected, you could get anything from a twenty dollar fake Rolex to bulk rice and beans.  In our tour we visited the old theater in town.  A beautiful house of about four to five hundred seats it was marvelous to find such a place here.  Contributing to the soul of Penedo with performances for over a hundred years bringing  the town together on occasion to see children perform ballet and adults put on theater performances.  The grand dame that brings people together for the arts.  Truly amazing.

     We dined for lunch and turn the corner on the rest of the day's agenda.  Futsol at the local private school. Soccer again, bringing two cultures together.  The Futsol court at the private school had a vista view over a working class neighborhood that overlooked the Rio San Francisco.  The pool for the school was about twenty yards down hill from the court.  The setting was  picturesque.  Futsol is a short sided game played with five players per side on a hard surface the size of a basketball court.  Small goals make the scoring more difficult, a quick surface and small court make the game fast and entertaining.  Our boys were out matched in the first half of play.  They continued to try too control play on a small court and got caught short handed on defense a couple of times and had no goals to show for their effort in the first half.  Charlie gave them the coaching they needed at half and they opened play a bit.  We have athletes on the team and they showed their mettle in the second half.  Moving quickly and opening things up to nearly even the score.  I am proud of their effort and discipline.  They played a team game and showed the Brazilian side they had game to bring.  Another example that Americans can play the world game.  Then they all went for a swim before gathering for a snack. 

     Back at the Pousadsa Thirty Four we freshened up for Capoeira.  Molly had put together a fundraising effort to support the local Capoeira and was ready to make her presentation to them tonight.  The presentation was preceded by practice that we could gather around to see.  A first hand telling of Capoeira in Brazil is an uncommon opportunity for an American.  Things were a bit disorganized at first but they finally came together and we got to see authentic practice.  Capoeira is a form of martial art that was originally practiced by slaves in Brazil.  The predecessor to break dancing in the United States it is a bit acrobatic and looks like a martial art.  There is a dance like quality to it.  Two partners dueling in a show of skill.  As a counter point to what we saw in Salvador performed by the Bale' Folclorico Da Bahia this was much closer to its origins.  Not a Hollywood version of an ideal.  It was an honor to be there to see these "real" people doing something that they love to do.  I was impressed with the layman version.  Many of these individuals had a great deal of skill sparing with their partners.  Molly made a presentation at the end of the night and we heard what the practitioners had to say about her efforts.  The emotion in the room was wonderful.  One mother spoke about how Bentinho, the master, was helping her son stay off the streets and how what he was doing gave her boy something to look forward to.  Most of what Bentinho does is gratis so it only seemed fitting that Molly provided so much to them in her fundraising effort.  One of the students spoke and you could feel the emotion in his voice as he described that he was thankful for what Molly had done.  That it was more than their own town of Penedo was doing for them.  The moment was starkly genuine and I can't believe that I was a part of it.  Another fortunate turn of events provided by the Ragsdale-Stark family.  We had to let go of the moment to head back to the pousada for the last item of business on the day.  Ross's birthday.

     Ross turned fifty-five today.  We celebrated with him in the restaurant at the pousada.  Another meal, this time with a theme, celebrated in the company of friends.  Ross's son Mathew is one of the soccer playing posse on this trip.  I didn't know the family before we were thrown into this trip together.  They have been great company during the trip.  Welcoming.  Friendly.  Genuine.

      Signing off form Penedo, Brazil wishing Ross many happy days and the return of friendship for years to come.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want.   

     "Okay, the bus we hired to take us to the bus station is not here, so I am going to get taxis to give us a ride.  If everyone would please get their luggage and bring it to the curb outside the pousada that'd be great."

     Peter was speaking to us in the lobby of the Magna Rosa after giving up hope the bus they hired was coming to pick us up and deliver us to the station for the beginning of a long days travel to Penedo.  Given the fact that we spent an extra twelve hours in San Juan on the way here gave us a real insider's perspective to what happens when you don't get where you're going on time.  Connor was not feeling good so he had to throw up in the lobby bathroom before we got going.  It was not the start any of us were looking forward to.  Peter did an amazing job organizing the cabs for us as five of them were waiting for us by the time I got to the street.  We loaded up and hit the road in the rain that started to come down on us as we left.  Peter gave the drivers directions about where we were headed and then we were off.  First, to do a lap around the block to end up right where we started.  Our driver was shaking his head and I'm sure Marta and I were wondering together if we were ever going to make the bus station on time.  The group was now split up.  What was happening with the rest of the crew?  Personally I found myself wondering if we were fated to another night on the lobby floor, this time at the Mange Rosa?

     As it turns out we made the station and had time to get things put in order without a rush.  Peter and Amy had a chance to give us instructions about how to check bags and where to load onto the bus.  Happily luck was on our side today.  Earlier Peter had mentioned to me that these were not your run of the mill buses.  They were very luxurious.  Being American I had a hard time conceiving the idea of a luxury bus.  I didn't have to think about it much longer and was introduced to the real thing.  First hand accounts are always best.  Our bus was a double Decker and our group had the first twenty rows on the upper deck courtesy of Amy's planning.  The seats reclined into virtual beds so sleeping on the bus was not easy and restful.  That rest was welcome after four hours of sleep and a sick kid, who by this time was recovering nicely.  There was also going to be entertainment provided by an American movie shown dubbed in Portuguese.  Turns out "John Carter" was tough enough to grasp in English, let alone Portuguese.  The bus rolled out of town on time and we were off on our first leg from Salvador to Aracaju.  Four hours of restful travel on the cloud liner of buses. 

     The countryside we covered was really quite beautiful.  There were rolling hills covered with banana and coconut plantations, cattle ranches, and eucalyptus farms.  The natural vegetation was varied; palm trees, conifers, open fields of grass, combined with red dirt and vista views of the Atlantic ocean.  Rivers ran here and there.  Rural villages dotted the route with everything from fairly substantial haciendas to huts made from sticks and plastic tarps or palm fronds for walls and a roof.  It was not what I had expected but I really hadn't thought of it that much with all the soccer on my mind.  Perhaps this contributed to my astonishment a bit.  The scenery turning what could have been a very long trip into an enjoyably short ride.

     When we pulled into the bus station in Aracaju, the provincial capital, another pleasant surprise was waiting to greet us.  It was without a doubt the cleanest bus station I have ever seen.  The floors were clean, bus stalls were swept out and concessions were spotless.  The bathrooms stank to high heaven, though.  With a methane capture system they could've powered the whole bus station.  By conservative estimates.  Truly an eye watering experience.

    We hopped a much smaller bus for the remaining two hours to Penedo.  Not nearly as comfortable, but effective nonetheless.  We could feel the end of our destination nearing and were looking forward to stretching our legs there.  Our last ride would be by ferry to bridge the four hundred yards of river between us and Pousada Thirty-Four.  Where I am writing you from right now.  It was great to feel the cool river breeze in your hair after a long day of travel.  My spirits were lifted having gone from a puking sick son and rushed departure from the Magna Rosa that morning to a cooling drift across the river with a soft timely landing on the banks of Penedo.  I think Connor felt the same way strolling across the street to a very nice looking pousada.  I have my own room and Connor is spending time getting to know the boys better rooming with Skylar, Brody, and Carson. 

     By this time Peter was ready to play some soccer, so he hit the street followed by about eight boys and myself headed for the barefoot playing field along the banks of the river.  He was like the pied piper leading us to the promise of fun times on the field.  The fields were rough hewn.  Barely a pasture.  There was some tall flora and some short grass.  No touch lines were drawn.  I remember walking past one burro and two horses on the short distance off the promenade to the field.  This was confirmed by the mounds of manure off to the side of our landing spot and the burro hee-hawing in the background.  Peter immediately took up with some of the locals.  He is a sort of hero to them.  They played together when Peter's family spent a year here.  He helped them get to games by making contributions of money and time toward their cause.  Peter is a master at establishing relationships with people and holding on to them.  A month or more can go by in my life without seeing Peter and he and I can pick up where we left off.  Which is what he did with Aladine, a fresh faced kid slick with sweat carried on a wiry frame in possession of some seriously fast feet.  Five aside soccer ensued.  Soccer therapy after a travel day is usually just what the doctor ordered.  Today solidified this foundation.  It is also a kind of universal language.  You don't need to know Portuguese, you just need an understanding of an aesthetic.  Another boundary beaten down by the greatest game on earth.  The 'Mericans played a much different style of game than the Brazilians but I had fun watching what unfolded in front of me.  Saddened by the fact that I couldn't join in but still having a good time.  It was clear that Peter has a home here to the end of days and I found myself a bit envious of that.  He is an example for me how to make connections and live through the lives of others.  He and Amy both have that quality.  To me their lives are bigger than they are, as it should be, making contributions to those around them with unassuming generosity.

  The day ended as most do on this trip, sharing food and drink with friends talking about the day and our place in it.  Cheerfully living lives that are bigger than our own vicariously through the eyes of traveling companions.

     Signing off from Penedo, Brazil wishing you bigger perspective on what you already have.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want. 

     Today was our last full day in Salvador.  I am going to remember it as a fun visit with lots of learning and some great soccer.  The second game of which we went to see today, between the Netherlands and Costa Rica.  The friendliness of the people who live here has been amazing.  We've had a lot of fun as a group and the my experiences here have taught me quite a bit about myself and the people of Brazil.  Some of my favorite things have been the Pelourinho neighborhood, the soccer, the Bale' Folkloric, and of course the game we've attended.  There have been numerous times I've had to put my faith in friends, affirming that they are wonderful people.  My more unfortunate moments teaching me too carry on in my belief that humanity has not run afoul.  I am also going to remember this city for a number of unpleasant things, not the least of which is the fact that my soccer playing prospects for the trip were ruined here.  The apartment we stayed in was far from perfect.  The WiFi didn't work all the time, the outlets didn't all work.  Only one air conditioning unit worked and we only had a hot shower in one of the bathrooms.  The stray dogs  and trash in the street a constant reminder you are in a developing nation.  In spite of this, the place still maintains a charm and you can't beat the honesty. 

     Being our last day we had to get to the Mercado near the Pelourinho.  Connor and I wanted to do a bit of shopping for Lisa and Sloan.  He and I both needed to make sure that we got some trinkets from Salvador to share with them when we got home.  The bus trip landed us at the famous elevator over the market.  The Mercado is housed in a building that offers two large floors of crafts from local vendors.  The place is bustling with tourists and I'm told is overrun with pick pockets.  Thankfully we didn't have any experience to confirm this.  We bought a number of items for friends and family. As we left samba dancers were performing at the Mercado gates.  They were having a great time and the crowd was too.  We bought a number of items for friends and family and headed to watch Argentina - Belgium. 

     After watching Argentina beat Belgium on TV in a fairly lackluster performance we hit the streets to walk to Arena Fonte Nova for the real thing.  Dave and Ian were our seat mates for this game.  I think we all had mostly recovered from the US's heartbreaking loss to the Belgians, and were ready to get in some more soccer therapy.  We were all looking forward to watching Holland play.  They are know for a quality side and some of the more boisterous and supportive fans in futbol.  They all dress in orange and follow their team with relish and pride.  The costumes are outrageous and they bring numbers everywhere they go.  There are times I believe Holland has the home field advantage in away stadiums.  For those non soccer fans reading, there are a number of top line players starting for the Netherlands.  Arjenn Robben is one of them.  He is a world class winger who breaks down defenses almost single handedly with his play on the right side of the field.  His quickness is hard to describe, and though we had seats in the second row on the eighteen his feet were so fast that you couldn't tell what he was going to do even from such a close distance.  The electricity generated when he has the ball is astonishing.  More often than not when he is in possession he is going to be make a fool out of someone.  Also for Holland are the likes of Robin Van Persie of Manchester United, Dirk Koyt, and Wesley Schneider in center mid along with world class keeping that would rue the day for Costa Rica.  On the other side of the ball there were a lot of unfamiliar Costa Rican names that were not going to let the Dutch run them over, which was made clear from the first whistle.

     Frankly, the first twenty minutes of the game were boring.  The Dutch worked the ball around in their midfield without making many forays into the Costa Rican defense.  After the first thirty minutes though, things began to open up and Robben started to assert himself.  At one point he split two defenders so quickly all they could do was foul him on the edge of their box.  In the process of fouling him they actually hurt each other a bit.  One play, three players on the ground.  The Dutch put the pressure on the Ticos with precision and speed.  There is a grace about their game, with accurate crisp passing and blinding speed.  For the remainder of the second half they tortured the Ticos but did not score.  Costa Rica managed to put in a couple of good efforts but produced no results.  The second half began as the first ended, with the Dutch demolishing the opposition.  Robben was on our side of the field now and we witnessed first hand what a devil he is to guard.  He manufactured opportunity after opportunity for them.  Still no goals.  In the waning moments of the second half the Ticos came up with a chance to put the game away but the ball sailed wide and we were looking at extra time. 

     By now the players were exhausted after ninety minutes of play.  Things began to open up more for the South Americans.  They may not have been as good a team technically but they played with huge hearts to the overwhelming support of their fans.  They came up with a few chances and the surprised Dutch beat them back.  The supporters for Costa Rica came alive more now than ever and their chanting overcame the Dutch by a long shot.  We were all on the edge of our seats thinking that one team would go up, but they didn't.  I will go on the record saying that the Netherlands had a better game.  The combination of Koyt and Robben on the right side make them hard to handle and their defense is solid.  They move off the ball beautifully and created chance after chance.  Consequently the Costa Rican goaly had an amazing game.  Penalties were next.  Connor wanted me to video the whole thing on my phone so I obliged. 

     The Dutch were mechanical in their approach without a lot of flair, however, when the ball hits the back of the net I think they lose touch for a moment.  Though they are focused and concentrated most of the time they do not lack for emotion.  The Dutch keeper saved the first and fourth attempt.  Final result, game tied 0 - 0 in regulation with a 4 - 3 result in penalties.  A game I will never forget.  One that I hope to tell my grand kids about someday.  Robben, who hand been the picture of focus and concentration during the game, came to our corner of the field and roared like a lion toward the Dutch supporters in the stands.  As you can imagine they were all too happy to salute their hero in return.

     After the game we walked for about a mile and caught a private bus full of drunken Brazil fans heading to FIFA Fan Fest.  I was surprised to hear two of them speaking English to me.  Clearly.  As American's we have been finding some new found celebrity and the welcoming embrace of people from all over the world while we have been visiting.  They were charming in their own way and didn't break anything.  Thankfully.  We roled into the Pousada at about 9:30 for dinner with some supportive Australian fans, and upstairs to our room at 11:00 to pack for early departure in the morning.  The day was an example of the world coming together in Brazil in support of the individual teams, realizing the whole time that we having more in common than in difference.  I was awestruck.  Happy.  Exhausted.

     Signing off, for the last time, from Salvador hoping you find the magic in your life.  It is there if you look for it.  Know that you will never have less than you need and always have more than you want.

     "What's' your name", I asked after handing him thirty Reais.

     "Chocolate"

     Chocolate, had just given my group of six the taxi ride of there life in return from our evening's festivities in the Pelourinho.  The end of a great night in Salvador. 

     The first significant task of the day was to find Connor an authentic Brazil jersey.  Connor has been having the trip of his life, but he has been patient with me while the nights slip away in conversation with friends new and old. Those conversations have little interest to a fourteen year old youngster.  We agreed that we would take care of this important piece of business today.  Understanding the magic an authentic Brazilian jersey "from Brazil" can have I was enthusiastic to get this taken care of today for my most important traveling companion.  After all when you worship soccer like we do how can you deny the opportunity to have a piece of voodoo working for you, a totem from the birthplace of soccer.  The adventure for this purchase took us to two malls in Salvador.  Unfortunately we did not find the jersey at the closest mall to our pousada, but instead found it at Shopping Salvador.  An upscale mall about thirteen kilometers from our place.  The jersey was verified to be in stock with some help from the man at the front desk off the Magna Rosa.  We located the shirt in of all place the Nike Town store in Salvador.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that we would not have to race there to pick this jersey up because they would hold it for me until we got there.  All we had to do was ask for Jane.  Evidently the retail gods at Nike Town Brazil are different from those in Seattle.  Liking Brazil more by the day we headed off and accomplished the first task of the day.  The attitude of my traveling companion improved the minute we picked up the jersey.  One of the most important requirements of this trip having been accomplished for him.

     We headed back to the Magna Rosa and off to a group dinner before a candomble' and capoeira performance by the Bahia's regional dance company "Bale' Folclorico Da Bahia".  Dinner was arranged by Amy for the group at an Italian place in the Pelourinho.  Bruschetta, octopus, pasta, and filet were on the menu.  The meal was outstanding made more valuable by the friendship we were building. 

     From there we were off to the Bale Folclorico.  The performance was without a doubt one of the most athletic things I have ever witnessed on a dance stage.  Magnified by the fact that I was only two feet from it.  The entire stage may have been difficult to see from where I was sitting but the relationship you have with the performers when you could reach out and touch them is tangible.  You can see their eyes and their expressions like you were setting across the counter from them.  They were powerful and balanced, limber and graceful.  To describe the male dancers as having defined bodies would not do them justice.  They were all beautiful in movement and body.  The education in dance vocabulary we got from the more authentic version a few evenings before came in handy.  I understood some of the story lines a bit better watching this performance and the fact that the performers were professional dancers helped the movement come through a bit cleaner.  Every attempt could be made to describe what I saw but they would all fall short of the mark.  I was completely enthralled by it.   A rapturous performance.  It got my heart pumping and by the time we had reconnected as a group outside the theater it became clear that the feeling was shared with everyone in our group.  Most of the adults who were dance fans were wide eyed with a fair bit of adrenaline pumping through their systems as well.

     Chocolate was a rather large statured guy.  His cab held six so we had to split into four groups for the cab ride back to Porto De Barra.  Evidently Chocolate was in a hurry and so were the other three drivers.  Traffic had dissipated enough that we were given the space to race in a diamond shape formation of four cabs through the streets of the Pelourinho on to our destination.  Passes were made, car doors dodged, pedestrians spared but only barely.  Our bodies were shifting and heaving inside the cab like we were on a Disney rollercoaster.  Needless to say much of the time we lost in San Juan to American Airlines was gained back in the reckless but entertaining ride.  We got back from the Pelourinho in about a quarter of the time it took us to get there earlier.  Maybe faster.  Then we got ice cream and discussed the evenings events.  A festive night.  Good vibrations abundant.

     Signing off from Salvador, Brazil wishing you fun times on summer evenings.  Know that you will always have more than you need and never have less than you want