Days 112-115, The CRTC has rated this post R

The following takes place between Saturday, March 19 and Tuesday, March 22, 2011

I am warning you now, this post is going to include a mention of a rather intimate encounter while in Foz. I warn you now. I’ll give you warning as to when it is. The reason I’m feeling comfortable about doing this, even considering that there is family that reads this(Trevor, perhaps you should black that portion out when you print it off for Grandma) is that this is my blog. With Jaime of the blog Breakaway Backpacker being so honest on his I came to the realization that I really shouldn’t be throwing myself back into the closet. This blog is as much for me as it is for others to read.

So, with that said, lets get on with the show!

Having seen the Brazilian side of the falls, and with information gathered from a couple gents I met at the gay club the night before, I decided to postpone going to the bird sanctuary until Sunday and use Saturday as an opportunity to go cross-border shopping in Paraguay.

Saturday is by far the busiest day for Brazilians to head over the Friendship Bridge from Foz to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. Things are much cheaper there and this particular part of the city is also considered duty free(except on electronics it appears). With the idea in my head that I needed new clothes, I grabbed the bus outside the McDonalds.

Much like Brazil, Paraguay requires Canadians to have a visa to cross into their country. I didn’t have one. Hell, the bus didn’t even stop at the border to let us off. It just drove right through. So there I was, in Paraguay, without a valid exit stamp from Brazil, and no visa or entry stamp for Paraguay. I’ll worry about that later.

Shopping there is insane. There are people and shops everywhere. I wandered the area for a good couple hours, purchasing a few new shirts, some socks, and a new pair of sunglasses. All told, I spent less than CDN$45. Though, as the streets were incredibly jammed packed, and I didn’t feel safe hopping onto a random motorcycle, I decided to walk across the bridge and back into Brazil.

Cue me starting to panic as I notice the gates leading us straight for customs. What are they going to say when they look at my passport and I don’t have an exit stamp!? I’ve crossed illegally into another country. Chris was right! I was going to end up in a foreign jail!

All the worrying was for naught though as there were two lines. One that people were just walking through, and another that people were being checked. I glanced at the second line and noticed everyone had electronics and were filling out what looked to be declaration cards. With my tiny bag of clothes, I went to the first line. The customs officer at the gate glanced at my bag while talking on his phone and then waved me through. I had done it!! I had officially left and re-entered Brazil without needing my passport!

The next day I took the bus to the large bird park/sanctuary. The place was deceivingly big. Paths wound its way past cages of different birds from around the Amazon and South America, and even some from Africa. There were even large aviaries to walk through and get up close and personal with some of the birds. Though I no longer have a favourable impression of toucans after having one think the strap on my sandal was food. It was cute until he decided my toe looked tastier. Those beaks hurt!

My favourite portion though, the area I spent a good hour or so in, was the Macaw aviary. Just sitting and listening the birds and watching as they would randomly dive across the large cage, sometimes close enough to feel the wings on your cheek, was so cool. Definitely the best part of the entire day.

Now that I’ve seen all that I wanted to see I booked a bus to Rio through the hostel to leave on Tuesday afternoon. I spent Monday wandering the streets of Foz around where I was staying and laying by the pool.

Ok, Stop now unless you want scandalous details rated somewhere above R(*cough* Jaime  *cough*). Just highlight the following text to see it:

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights became my scandalous nights in Foz. Using the website manhunt.net, I began chatting with a gent from England who was now living in Foz. He let me know about the gay club there and we made arrangements to meet there on Friday night. Which we did. He also brought his roommate, whom I will call Pedro[not his real name].

And you know me and my love of Latinos.

That night was a relatively event-free one. We danced, chatted, and drank a little. The two of them, Pedro and Foz[the brit. Again, not his real name], ended up walking me back to my hostel which was awfully sweet of them. We made plans then and there to meet at the club again the next night.

Saturday night, I turned up the flirtation with Pedro who turned shy with all the attention I was giving him. That is, until I saddled up close and whispered in his ear “I think you’re really cute. It’s taking everything in my not to kiss you right now.” He laughed, looked at me, grabbed my hand, and led me upstairs. Where we kissed. More than kissed. We full out made out. Much to the delight of the guys around us. And then we did something I never thought I would ever do. As I was in a dorm room, and he couldn’t take me to his place, we went into the back room.

Now, before anyone goes insane, there was no  . . . sex. Beyond making out, and having our pants off, we didn’t do anything more naughty then  . . . well, use our hands. It was kinda hot actually. Until more than two sets of hands could be felt on me. That was just creepy.

The next night(Sunday), I met up with the two of them again at their apartment. We went out for drinks at a little street side bar and when the bar closed, we went back to the apartment to watch TV and have some fresh made tea. While Foz was in the kitchen cleaning the dishes or making more tea, Pedro took my hand, led me into his bedroom and closed the door. “Hi,” he said before leaning back in to kiss me again. Clothes came off fast after that and . . . yeah. We were safe, before anyone gets worried. I wouldn’t do anything otherwise.

Pedro ended up giving me a ride on his motorcycle back to my hostel when we were done. Anything to wrap my arms around his waist.

Really. I’m not really this forward with guys at home.

And that’s that. I’m a bad bad boy.

And even with all that, Jaime and I are still tied at 5 with our Kiss Count.