Brasilia Terminal is open-air, a chaotic place; there is a little café and tables near our entry door into Brazil. Over there are rows of ATM’s where everyone seems to getting or exchanging money. Banks of taxis and cars line the curb. If it weren’t for Kelsie we would be hopelessly confused. Abadiania is a one and one-half hour drive south and a little west of Brasilia.
Kelsie has a taxi all ready to go with Bolivar as our driver, he is the proud owner of a white and very clean, nearly new small SUV. It’s still early and quite refreshingly cool with a wonderful dry breeze; much like a Colorado summer morning but it is the start of winter here and the dry season has just begun. The traffic is heavy in Brasilia and the city seems to stretch out in all directions endlessly. There is an area of large buildings to the left and a massive traffic jam going the opposite direction from us. We are leaving the city while everyone else is going in to work. It seems to go on for miles. Read More