Flicking through my wad of Brazilian reais (currency) and taking note of the variety of wildlife displayed on such colorful notes, which might actually eat me at any given time. I consider that my occupation whilst living there –shepherd- combined with my location of such job – 200km West of Belem or Amazon territory to you and me- makes my notion of becoming a predators bowel movement not as farfetched as it might seem.
I’m feeling pretty much prepared as I sit in my bedroom surrounded by paper work of flight details, travel insurance, health..fuck, I don’t want to even look at that pile of time consuming shite right now. So that’s all there, clothes folded and ready to be crammed into a bag at some point, camera, few books and my tablet. Even that stretchy rope thingy for keeping my arms in shape, all present and ready to rock.
I’m informed that mosquito repellent isn’t cheap and I don’t expect it would be but my minds more focused on the acquisition of leopard spray as harsh language will only see me so far.
*Images of a Tarzanesque Andy decked out in junglewear aimlessly crashing through dense rainforest muttering “Nae fuckin’ danger!” while hotly pursued by a carnivorous jungle kitty.
. . .
So what can we expect from this forthcoming adventure?
Something really stupid involving snakes and crocs no doubt. I can pretty much guarantee that as I am that idiot that has to touch. My ways have served me well so far, but feel free to tell me you told me so if I return minus a limb. Ten months in Costa Rica and the most savage attack came from the jaws of a terrapin (although it could have been far worse if we’d found that puma we were tracking in Corcovado or Derik the fer-de-lance snake we pestered) so do your worst mother nature for you are my bitch. –ok, so I do respect nature a little more than that-
Being something of a football fan although not obsessively, it hasn’t escaped my notice that during my time there a certain tournament will be taking place. I may however, be the only living thing in Brazil who will miss it all entirely. Just can’t justify to myself the possibility of forking out £300 per night in a city to watch sport. Especially if England win the fucking thing! –I’m Scottish- ‘Boo’, ‘yeah’! Fuck off, it’s just a bit o’ banter!
So don’t expect a 2014 World Cup review or even a travel guide of what’s hot in Brazil. Just expect the tales and photos of a man exploring something new.
Think Bear Grills meets Mr. Bean!