Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova (54 page)

The
next morning we said goodbye after a shower blowjob and I never saw her again. She was probably a prostitute but never asked me for any money.

It
had been nearly three weeks since I last had sex and I had struggled a lot during those weeks in which I sometimes went out five times a week. I finally got it over with and no longer felt like a failure. Anyone who says it’s really easy to get laid in Brazil is either getting very lucky, spending a lot of money or a very skilled player. Or probably just one of those liars I had met plenty of while travelling.

The
next night I was supposed to see Patty again. We agreed to go to a Latin party organized by another hostel. I was going there with the group from my hostel anyway. She didn’t show up at the agreed time and place and I found the Latin Party on my own after walking around a lot. Luckily it wasn’t that far from the hostel. I walked in to the small but crowded club and didn’t see her there. Nor was I on the guest list as she promised, so I had to pay fifteen reals to get in.

Later
I realized she used my Facebook name which, for obvious reasons, is different from my real name on my ID card.

I
saw Paul and walked over to him. As I started talking to him I felt someone pinch my butt, I turned around and saw a thick girl with a very cute face laughing. I gave her some cocky/funny lines and turned back to Paul. A minute later I went looking for Patty again but didn’t see her. Pinchy Girl was still on the lookout for me and I began flirting heavily with her. I took her to the dark smoking room and kissed her there after she tried to evade it just once.

The
old saying: “When in Rome, do as Romans do” worked well here. Brazilian guys have an aggressive way of flirting and kissing. They move in for the kiss very quickly, sometimes just grabbing a girl and holding her tight and forcing themselves on them. In the western world that would be sexual assault, but here it’s an everyday thing. Brazilian guys make it a sport to kiss a lot of girls and feel like quite the heroes about it among friends, but don’t get laid much. I kissed tons of Brazilian girls in the first few weeks, especially in São Paulo, but got nowhere near a lay with them. Very frustrating, because usually kissing a girl is half the work done on getting some lovemaking.

After
talking and kissing a bit more Pinchy girl sat on my lap and my fingers went under her skirt. She was quite drunk and getting her horny was very easy when I felt her up and told her what I was going to do to her.

We
left for a love hotel only 45 minutes after I first met her. She walked out of the smoking room to give her apartment key to a friend and when I walked out as well I saw Patty. I pretended I didn’t see her and rushed for the door, even though I heard her call my name.

Pinchy girl who now introduced herself as
Marcela had her own apartment but her girlfriend was staying over that night and it was a studio with just one bed. I tried to go there anyway because I didn’t want to whop out another thirty to forty dollars for a motel. She said no and we took a taxi to a love hotel nearby her apartment.

When
we arrived at the motel the prices were very different from the ones the night before. A room was 165 reals, which is over eighty dollars. I told her I didn’t have that kind of money and she paid half after some initial grumping about it.

The
room was excellent, with an enormous bubble bath and a separate dining area. After the shower we started fucking straight away. As I said before, she had a chubby body but a very beautiful face and giant hooters came with the package. She was fanatical in the bed and we had sex at least three times over the next six hours.

We
woke up and were served a small complimentary breakfast and coffee. We walked over to her tiny but cozy apartment and she made some more breakfast for me. Marcela was Brazilian/Lebanese, which is a rare mix. I asked her where she grew up and she said Brazil, so I couldn’t claim the Lebanese flag which would have been awesome.

We
exchanged Facebook names and said goodbye. She wanted to meet me again that night but I already had other plans. I tried to go for a three-in-a-row one-night-stand record but didn’t succeed that night.

I
met up with Patty again and she helped me out at the phone store again. I told her to act angrily with the sales guy and tell him that she had been waiting for me a few times because my shit phone didn’t work – which had the advantage of actually being true. I got my money back and since I was really sick of the shitty phone situation I went over to a real Nokia store and bought a decent cell phone there, costing 200something dollars. It never worked out with Patty. We kissed all the time but she was not up for sex with me. Looking for a boyfriend probably. I was happy with my new phone and tried to arrange a last-minute date with a beautiful girl. We met in a mall and had lots of fun. I seemed to push the right buttons but I was cock-blocked by her parents, of all people, who came by the mall later. After saying goodbye to everyone in the hostel and feeling bad for leaving Rio, a city where I would gladly spend a year I took an early bus to Salvador.

Brazil – Salvador

Salvador, a place where, according to many Brazilians, I’d have to beat the local girls off with a stick. Being tall and blond was the magic formula to get laid here. I had already stopped believing any pick-up “advice” from locals. I stayed in a hostel in Pelinrinho, which many guide books pointed to as the tourist area of Salvador. The backpacker trail is a small world: I met a Japanese woman I had talked to before in Rio. There were also two Swedish girls and a Swedish guy travelling together. They were supposed to just be friends, but the guy and one of the girls were making out a few times. There were a couple of Japanese guys in the hostel too and I talked to them a bit. They were much exited that I had climbed Mount Fuji back in Japan, since it is the dream and almost the duty of every Japanese person to do that at least once in their life. Or so I was told by a Japanese girl.

On
Tuesday there was a street party in Pelinrinho, which is right next to some favelas and quite dangerous after dark. The Tuesday night street party is famous and a must-see for foreign visitors. I went there with the three Swedes, one Japanese guy and one super-annoying guy from New Zealand everyone disliked but who kept inviting himself along.

The
street party was very nice, lots of bands playing and thousands of people in the streets dancing and partying. I was being pretty cautious with my valuables, because Salvador is known as one of the most dangerous cities in Brazil and probably South America except maybe Caracas in Venezuela. The New Zealand guy got pick-pocketed and left early. I felt bad for him losing a brand new camera but kind of thought he wasn’t being careful enough. I had my phone with me, a camera and quite a lot of money in case I picked up a girl and needed money for a love hotel.

We
went to a big square to see a wild reggae concert and that’s where trouble started. Some 14-year-old boy started dancing up to me and made indecent movements, grabbing his crotch and trying to ride up against me. I thought I was getting setup for being pick-pocketed and pushed him off. He did it again and I felt him touch my pockets so I pushed him off again while trying to protect my back pockets which I’d divided my money between. The boy was lighting fast and grabbed the camera out of the front pocket of my shorts. I immediately grabbed him by the throat and said “Give me my camera” to him. He looked shocked by my action and pretended he wanted to give it back to me. I let him loose and he quickly ran off. But this old dog is fast too and I chased after him through the thick crowd, grabbed him again and threw him to the pavement. I choked him quite hard and felt his pockets. My camera wasn’t there anymore and I wanted to give him an interrogation beating but then I realized half the ghetto was watching me. Lots of big muscular black dudes were staring at me while I was choking the life out of this drugged-up boy. I always act before I think and live by the ancient old rule of nature: An eye for an eye, but I realized that I was alone in the Salvadorian ghetto, surrounded by people who will protect their own and don’t have much to lose anyway. A three-year-old camera is not worth getting my ass beaten or killed for, and I let the boy go.

During
the whole scuffle I was still holding a half-liter can of beer in my hand, even when I searched the pockets of the thief. I smashed the beer can on the ground and was furious. I was going home in two months and had protected my camera for two-and-a-half years and
now
it got stolen. All my pictures of Rio de Janeiro were gone and so were the last pictures I took in São Paulo. My pictures of me and Miss Brazil 2001 and lots of pictures I took for a business idea were gone too.

Most
favela people were shocked by my brutal action,  though one actually complimented me for not taking shit. The little boy, who was obviously already drugged up on glue or something, kept around us, teasing us, even snatching a cigarette out of my mouth. The boy had nuts the size of bowling balls to keep teasing us like that. He probably had a whole gang with him. He surely wasn’t alone, because he’d handed my camera to someone while I was busy with him.

The
small group from the hostel I was with got scared of losing their stuff too and we left.

For
the rest of the night I was a bit down. I now had to buy a new camera in a country where electronics are super-expensive. Buying a new camera would set me back at least $250 for a regular Sony Cybershot camera and I would be protecting a brand-new camera again. I had just paid over $200 for a new phone and I was running out of money fast.

I
was expecting a lecture from one of the hostel people about beating that poor little third-world country boy who probably had to steal to survive but nobody dared to say anything to me. That was just as well for them, because I was definitely not in the mood for a hypocritical leftist lecture.

I
think one of the Swedish girls was turned off by it but she didn't say anything. The Swedes were nice though. They were going to the holiday island Morro de São Paulo and I told them I would go there a day later.

I
went to look for a camera in one of Salvador’s biggest malls. It was hell taking the local buses there and once inside I didn’t see that many hot girls around, and the cameras were horribly expensive, so I didn’t actually buy one. I left to the island Morro de São Paulo the next day.

Brazil – Morro de
São Paulo

B
y high speed ferry the boat ride took two hours and the Swedes had already sent me the name of the guesthouse where they were staying. Morro de São Paulo is a holiday island recommended by many Brazilians. I first heard of it from the Brazilian girl I kissed in Cordoba and many others I met along my trip had mentioned it.

There
were lots of couples on the island. There were so many of them it quickly became clear that this was a romantic getaway island. There were hardly any girls around without a boyfriend and I thought to myself
Ok, I will try something with the Swedish girl and just lay on the beautiful beach a lot
. It was actually only the second beach I had visited in all my months in South America. I had been inland most of the time.

The
first night there was nothing to do on the island and I stayed in the guesthouse. The guesthouse had dorms for twenty–five reals and after all the money I’d had to shell out in the last couple of days I thought it would be better to stay there and keep it cheap. That night the blonde skinny Swedish girl and I went out for a few drinks but since it was a small beach island there wasn’t much open and most beach bars closed at eleven. There was a small beach party going on and we drank some caiperinhas made of different fresh fruits, which were delicious and quite cheap.

I
saw two hot Brazilian girls dancing at the beach party but didn’t bother talking to them because one of them looked like an obvious prostitute. She was an average-height dark-skinned girl and had an incredible round and tight ass. I saw her talking to some old guys and assume the other shorter girl was the same.

I
decided to take a shot at the Swedish girl I knew from the hostel. She came to the party with me because the Swedish guy had the shits and the other girl stayed with him. The Swedish girl had a nice body but was a bitchy butterface. I had seen her ass in the hostel dorm when she was sleeping with her blanket off, and it looked great. But her attitude didn’t match her body and I couldn’t exactly figure out her position on me. I could see she was a bit jealous when she saw me talking to other girls. She kissed the gayest-looking guy ever and was boasting about it. The guy made a really gay comment about my rock star bracelet to me, I’m sure he at least liked both sides. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay.) I think she just enjoyed pissing me off, especially after she found out about my website when I talked about it with some tourist guys. She tried to make me jealous, saying things like “Oh, I’ve been with like thirty guys this year but you can’t have me”. Like I cared about her, I was just interested in fucking her and getting a Swedish flag. I was very close in Malaysia and New Zealand. Got them (semi)naked but couldn’t seal the deal. Her saying “I think I have to throw up” and kissing an ugly gay-looking guy didn’t exactly gave me a raging hard boner for her.