There's no easy way to get to Northern Brazil from the PNW. You're not getting there direct, so there's a stop somewhere, or as I like to think of it, a new opportunity for the airlines to ding and/or lose your surfboards and a random weather system to fuck your world. This time it was through Texas. And we were lucky. No dings, no weather. Now you go 10 hours south, as the jet flies, which is four hours past where you wanted to stop, which is Fortaleza. As I will state later, all of this is inconsequential when time has no bearing. When you finally arrive in Fortaleza you rent a car and head west along the coastline. Do not skip the turn-offs; the roads to nowhere. This is where you will discover your secret spots.
"F*cking off is a force like electromagnetism - both inherent and indelible. Three theorists have recently discovered that force is stronger near the equator." - Colin, Vindur Hao Co-Founder
Before you start reading our neurotic journal entries from a 16 day trip to Never Never Land, let me preface that I will never give away our “secret” spots because I’d be robbing you. Find it yourself and it will still be a secret. I do have some wise advice:
First, quit your job. Second, empty your bank account. Third, go throw a few board shorts, flip-flops, and sunglasses in a backpack or garbage bag, whatever you use for toting. Fourth, go to the airport and buy a ticket to Fortaleza, Brazil. Don’t bother parking your car at the airport, you’re probably not coming back for awhile. Once you arrive, get a car, or a buggy, or a donkey... or walk. Head West along the coastline.
I can only think of a few things that 16 days is enough time for. A juice diet. A fleeting romance. A writing deadline. In the context of a trip to the Northern Brazil coastline, there's not enough time in the Universe. Your boss’s enlightenment will be delayed relative to your own. Just keep sending her hammock selfies and sunrises over turquoise. She’ll soon f*ck off in her own chosen direction. You’ll be perpetuating this philosophy as much as Brazil perpetuates perfect temperatures and un-backpacker molested-fishing villages. Places where people are indifferent to your raison d’etre, only concerned if you are smiling; that your experience in the space they inhabit is remarkable.
There are few joys in this world that match the satisfaction of grand reflection. Now take that experience and put it on daily, sometimes hourly, repeat. Add a hammock on a perfectly breezed veranda and you’re f*cking lying. Anyone who has made a pilgrimage to the equator knows that. Time not in the water is hot and sweaty, with little solace from the sun’s beatdown presence. And when you’re not shitting out your organs, you’re biding your time for the next reprieve. However, in this dreamscape, the conditions were always good, dawn ‘til dusk. This was a true fish directly in the frying pan situation. But again, you all know I’m lying.
Obsession. It has many iterations. Sometimes it’s your lawn. Sometimes it’s your job. In the context of 16 days, it was the elegance of the path unknown. But the frustration and unavoidable blues over the fact that a certain adventure may be coming to an end is well worth the elation of searching for the next. We needed to be ripped from our bliss and faced with a familiar reality in order to land at our next point of origination. We don’t often seek balance in these emotions because that’s for the bigger picture. We are life living within a beautifully balanced Universe. To not experience it in the chaos of ups and downs would be a more punishable robbery from ourselves than the theft of our sandals from a lonely porch. I’ll keep being obsessed and unrested as my rollercoaster ride sends me screaming into the next adventure.
"I know where that road leads in life, I know where it ends up. Right now I have no idea where the road I just turned on to goes... and I love it." - Tom, Taiba Brazil 2017