A prostitute plants a juicy kiss on my lips as I walk out of the grocery store. She grabs my wrist and sticks her other hand into my front pocket. The first thing I do is drop my grocery bags and feel for my wallet, which is still intact. The second thing I do is wonder about how her hand felt so strong, and covered in callouses. The only thing I know for sure is that we are staying in the transvestite section of Copacabana Beachβ¦go with the flow. This is Carnaval in Rio, the largest party in the World dating back to My wife, Mare and I start this journey by roaming around Manaus, the largest city in the Amazon Basin.
We sit with an elderly man at the busy, open-air market along the Rio Negro. He eats quail eggs and we share beers with him. Another man stands across from us and serenades the crowd with a mellow song. Despite not knowing how to speak the Portuguese language, we feel the friendliness of folks in this city of two million, as we communicate with smiles and nods. Rain pounds onto tin roofs, sounding like approaching trains. Streets transform into raging rivers for a few hours each day.
Fresh fish and exotic fruits appear as faint colors under the dim lights of thatch-covered vending huts. The scent of grilled fish and meat blends with fresh, lush foliage. Many Amazon excursions start at the floating dock. Colorful riverboats bob in the water, waiting to fill the many hammocks on deck. Take a jungle trip from one day to several weeks in length, as all options are available.
You would not expect to find an opera house in the middle of the rain forest. Teatro Amazonas presents opera deep in the jungle, as it has since We wear slippers overtop of our shoes to slide across the hand-crafted wooden floors. Canvas paintings adorn the opera house, mostly depicting Amazon muses. The outside pavement mosaic symbolizes how black water from the Rio Negro melds with the brown Amazon River.
At night, this square comes alive with people enjoying cooler weather, and crowding the many cafes and restaurants complete with drinks, music and intricate lights. Each evening, a group of folks make a Mecca of sorts to the top of Por do Sol, a large dune with drastic sunset views. My wife strains to see his face, hidden behind locks of bronze hair draping his brown chest, ending above his six-pack abs. I look down at my abs, hidden behind hair and rolls of age, and promise to resume working-out in the gym when I get back home.
