Corraaaao! Wanderlust + Alcohol...

Ahh Itacaré! Piece of hell in the middle of the coast! Hot as fuck, but as they say "some like it hot". Stopped on time, where songs from 5 million years ago play as if they're the latest hits: "eu só quero é ser feliz, andar tranquilamente na favela onde eu nasci..."

There was Lucas mucho loco on last Friday night, heavily drunk, to say the least, and to two friends come up with the idea:

"Let's go to Ilhéus?"

"What... now?"

"Yes. But it has to be now!!"

"Let's go dude! Now!"

Nearly an hour and some arrangements later there I was in the backseat of a Pegeout 206 heading to Ilhéus! It certainly was the greatest madness I've done; but everything was chilled, we had enough money for a day and zero commitments for the weekend. However, none of these implications were thought, I just went with the groove and suddenly there I was in the middle of the Massal Mountains [a beautiful place as I could verify on the trip back], high on Shut Up and fogs.

Around 6AM we were in Ilhéus, we stopped at an apparently good bakery [note-to-self: "apparently" sucks!], drunkness was gone and we figured out what we just had done:

"What the fuck are we doing here?!"

Withou a single idea of where to stay or what to do, I suggested we'd go to Itacaré [a kilometers after Ilhéus], where at least there would be nice beaches to see.

Once there, we'd check into an inn with the condition of an air conditioning in the bedroom; despite conquista's heat, us plateus kids are not used to plains' heat, especially on the coasts. And the first thing to do after settling up was: sleep. Before fallin asleep I thought that that was the most extravagant nap of my life, and laughing of the whole thing was the least to do, after all shit was already done. lol.

It was a tranquil weekend, dispite the sudden isanity - but, for all the time, I was thinking and certified myself of the uncontrolled core of wanderlust. Even if other had sung the desire to move, I believe that none was as eloquent and genius as that Icelandic devil, with her highly opportune screams and that brass section full of energy and wandering life.

Obviously trips like these are filled with revelation and unexpected, but certainly good acts. The greatest kick of the wanderlust drug is the fact of jumping into the unknown, so the unexpected was embraced by 50 million arms. However, they're sacred - then, they'll remain in secrecy.

[Song: Tout Doucement - Feist]