After nearly seven months of travel through Latin America, I crossed one final border. A long bus ride took me from Uruguay into southern Brazil, my last stop on the continent.

It didn’t take long to feel completely lost. After many months immersed in Spanish, I had grown used to understanding enough to get by. But now I was in a country where Portuguese filled the air, and everything familiar in conversation suddenly disappeared. Tasks as simple as buying something from a store became inconvenient as I resorted to hand gestures to get my points across.

Brazil was different from the other countries in many ways; not just the language. The sheer scale of it hit me immediately. I learned that nearly half of all South Americans live here. The culture, the music, and the media is all unique. It reminded me of arriving in India for the first time, stepping into a place so vast and self-contained that it feels like its own world.

With two weeks before a flight to Spain, I knew I couldn’t see much. I picked just two places: the costal island of Florianópolis where I slowed down and surfed for a few days; and Rio de Janeiro where I tried to let go and flow with the rhythm of the city instead of trying to make sense of it all.

There is so much more to Brazil than I could begin to understand in such a short time. But I got a glimpse. And for now, that was enough.

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Discovering New Places

Florianopolis [Pop. 500,000]

Florianópolis (or Floripa) is a big island off the coast of Brazil, known for its beaches. There are over forty of them here and all are pristine. It’s a favourite getaway for Brazilians and Argentinians alike. My plan was simple—chill out and learn to surf.

A few weeks earlier, while I was moving up the coast of Uruguay, I had a chance to wade into the ocean and feel the waves. I felt at home in the water. The rhythm of it, the breeze, the immersion of nature all around. It stirred something in me. I knew I wanted more of that. So I decided to spend a week surfing in Brazil. That’s one of the things I love about this lifestyle. Making it up as I go and following the pull.

Surf School

When I got to Floripa, I signed up for a surf school. With so many beaches, it makes sense there’d be no shortage of them. The program was simple—an hour of lessons in the morning, then I’d stay in the water as long as my body could take. Usually three or four hours. By the end, I’d be wiped, but in a good way. The kind of tired that makes it easy to slow down and rest.

At the hostel, I met Chavi, a traveller from Spain. We were both here to learn to surf, and we clicked right away. He became my surf partner for the week. It made a difference, having someone to share it with (especially the falls).

A quick intro to surfing

If you’ve never surfed, catching a wave is more technical than it looks. First, you need to find the right spot. That alone can take years to really understand. It involves reading the ocean, knowing where the waves break, and how the tide and wind play into it.

Once you’re out there, you sit or lie on your board, scanning the horizon. When a good wave starts to build, you turn toward the shore and start paddling hard, trying to match the speed of the wave. If you time it right, the wave picks you up. That’s your moment to pop up explosively into a squat. Feet planted, knees bent, eyes forward.

If you manage to stay balanced, congrats. You’re surfing. If you wipe out like I did, over and over, you just paddle back out and try again. There’s always another wave.

Oh, and don’t forget to layer on the sunscreen!

Reflections from the waves

The waves, I’ve learned, carry a lot of metaphors if we’re willing to listen. My week in the water taught me about surfing, yes, but even more about how to move through life.

I’m still very much a beginner, so I’ll leave the technique tips to the pros. But there’s something about being tossed around, getting back up, finding your rhythm, and learning to trust the timing that stuck with me.

I captured some of the most important lessons the waves taught me. As I put it together, I realize that I made this just as much as a reminder to myself.

Presence and Mindfulness

1. Surfing felt best when I stopped trying to get better. The more I let go of pressure, the more I tuned into the amazing experience in front of me: the blue sky, the feel of the water, and the sense of peace in it all.

   If we’re always chasing somewhere else, we miss the richness of where we already are.

2. When I overthought each step of catching a wave—paddle, pop up, balance—I’d fail. But when I slowed down and felt the wave, I could ride it.

   We move best in life when we’re centred, not overthinking things. Life, like waves, gives us feedback. If we feel into it, we can learn the difference.

Surrender and Timing

3. Sometimes I’d head into the water and wait a long time for a good wave to come. Other times, things lined up effortlessly.

   Even with effort, if the timing’s off, what we want to happen won’t work. Accepting and moving with life’s rhythms matters more than control.

4. There were waves I could’ve chased, but something in me said “Not this one.” And that was okay.

   Sometimes inaction is the wiser move. Not every wave is ours to ride.

Adaptability and Flow

5. No two waves were ever the same. Each had its own speed, angle, and breaking point. The more experienced a rider was, the more attuned they were to this.

   Every moment in life is unique. We can teach ourselves to notice the nuance.

6. I often found myself waiting in one spot for the waves. This would work for a while, but I learned that I had to keep moving to meet the waves where they were.

   Even when life has worked, we can’t expect it to stay that way. The flow of life changes and we need to adapt.

Perspective on Growth

7. I started on really small waves. Whenever I let my ambition pull me toward something bigger, I’d wipe out. The big waves moved too fast, and I wasn’t ready. The small ones taught me what I needed.

   Starting small and moving slowly isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom. The basics lay the foundation. Skip them, and we often end up right back where we started.

Resilience and Impermanence

8. One moment I would feel in control. The next, an onslaught of big waves would come and I was fighting just to stay above the water. The sea shifts fast.

   Life moves like that too. It can change in an instant. Being present isn’t just peace—it’s awareness. Prepared, but not anticipating something going wrong.

9. Every wave rises from the ocean, has form, and eventually crashes back into it.

   We’re each a momentary expression of life. We’re always connected to our source, we have form, and return when our time comes.

Final Reflections From the Waves

After a week in the water, it all started to make sense. Surfing isn’t just a sport, but also a metaphor for being alive. I look forward to getting out again and again as I travel to come back to these lessons.

Surfing is full of life and spiritual analogies because it teaches us how to live. I’m encouraged to come back to this activity. I already see that it’s more than a sport, but a way of connecting with myself and nature to learn through this connection.

Exploring the Island

Between surf sessions, I carved out time to explore the island. My favourite spots ended up being the quieter ones, tucked away from the crowds and chaos of the main beaches. Luckily, Floripa has no shortage of hidden corners. Some required a bit of a hike to reach, which made getting there feel like part of the adventure.

Rio de Janeiro [Pop. 6 million]

Rio has a lot to offer from beaches, nightlife, football, a vibrant culture that pulses through the streets. It’s also known for its favelas and high crime rate. Both are part of the picture.

When I arrived, I got it. I understood why this city is so iconic. It’s alive here. Nature spills over into the city, and the humid air buzzes with life. It’s a place that reminds you that we’re not separate from the world around us, we’re part of it.

Rio holds contrasting beauty and chaos. As breathtaking as it is, it was also sobering to see the scale of poverty. Even in the touristic places, it spilled in. The inequality is real, and I could feel it.

Spending a week in Rio pulled me back into the travel mindset. The kind where you try to go as deep as possible in a short time. The city’s vibrancy and raw energy reminded me that some parts of life can’t be measured or explained. How do you quantify the feeling of being alive? How do you capture the experience of a place that’s both beautiful and complicated?

Rio showed me that not everything important fits neatly into numbers or words. Some things just need to be to experienced.

I was warned about crime in Rio, and while I got lucky, the stories I heard confirmed the risks. One Canadian I met had his bags stolen at gunpoint waiting for an Uber during the day. Petty theft and pickpockets are common. I made sure to practice caution like not pulling out my phone and avoiding going out alone at night.

Still, some of my best memories came from wandering without a plan. Each neighbourhood felt unique, like its own world within the city. Rio’s culture changes a lot depending on where you are. Some places are full of music, dancing, and energy. Others feel quieter, more worn but still alive. Walking from one neighbourhood to the next is like stepping into a different world. Each spot has its own vibe and story to tell.

While roaming the streets of Rio, I noticed many people asking for food—not money.

That struck me as a call to do something small. I bought ingredients for lunch bags and recruited some help from people at my hostel. A friendly Austrian joined me, and we spent the afternoon handing out about 30 meals along with some clothes.

It was a small gesture, but the gratitude from the people we met was unforgettable.

Want to keep these small acts rolling? 💙 ☕

This experience has sparked something in me—to keep these small acts alive throughout my travels. Contribution is one of my core intentions and I want to keep it up!

I’ve started a ‘Buy Me a Coffee’ page to invite support on this journey.

If you feel called to support this part of my path, you can do so here. Funds will help cover my website costs so I can keep sharing stories like these. Anything beyond that (around $50/month) will go directly toward giving back to others.

I’ll share these moments along the way. It’s my way of keeping positivity flowing in a world that can sometimes feel like it’s running low on it.

☕Support here☕

My First Football Game

I took in my first football game here at the Maracanã stadium – one of the most famous in the world.

It was everything it was hyped to be. Even though it was just a regular season game, the crowd stayed alive the entire time—there’s no assigned seating, and people barely sit down during the match. Despite the Flamengo loss, the whole experience was amazing.

Night Life

I was told that the night life was an integral part of the culture, especially in Rio. While I’ve largely sworn off drinking and partying (the hangover is rarely worth it), I figured I’d keep diving in here.

While the clubs and bars were like those found elsewhere, I enjoyed the street life—the mix of all kinds of people, laugning and dancing with music and drinks. Social class seemed to disappear as everyone was out for a good time.

A popular drink here is the caipirinha. It’s basically just alcohol with some added lemon and sugar. One of these was enough to put me in a good place.

I also reconnected with my friend Dieg on one of my last night. We first met when he picked me up hitchhiking in Argentina. We then had a chance encounter when he showed up at the same hostel in Chile. Now, here we were on the streets of Rio—yet another example of the magic of travel.

The Favelas of Rio (Rocinha) [Pop. 200,000]

Talking about Rio would be incomplete without mentioning the favelas. Over two million people live across 800 of them in this city alone.

A favela is an informal settlement, usually built up over time with little to no government support. Homes are often self-built, and infrastructure is basic. Access to water and electricity can be difficult. Many favelas are run by drug cartels who take on roles usually filled by the state. They offer protection, enforce rules, and collect fees instead of taxes.

I visited Rocinha, the largest favela in Brazil. Over 200,000 people live there, packed into less than a one-kilometre strip.

Heading into a favela, I was expecting something dark and dangerous—drug dealers, guns, chaos. But what I found wasn’t so different from low-income neighbourhoods I’ve seen in other parts of the world. Despite their reputation, favelas have grown into complex communities with their own economies, subcultures, and rhythm of life.

The ones in the south of Rio, closer to the tourist zones, are considered safer. Some have even been “pacified,” meaning there’s a stronger police presence and less cartel control. Tours run in a few of these areas now, but many favelas are still considered too dangerous to visit.

The movie City of God was famously filmed in the favela Cuidad de Deus. While the film’s portrayal of gunslinging and lawlessness is dramatic, it highlights realities people have had to face there. Today, Ciudad de Deus is still considered too dangerous to visit, even by locals.

I opted for a tour of Rocinha—for both safety and the chance to learn from a local. As we wandered through the maze-like alleyways, it felt like the houses were stacked on top of one another, with barely any room to breathe. Still, people were used to it and accepted it as part of their lives.

Here are some other things I learned while exploring:

• people live in 20m² homes with up to 5 people. Often, there’s one bed, and others sleep on the floor.

• Despite small spaces and basic infrastructure, most homes have a TV, smartphone, and internet. These are modern essentials, even here.

• There are no formal addresses, yet Amazon still delivers.

• Garbage is collected up to three times a day from piles built up on the streets.

• Favelas have incredibly low crime and are ironically safer than many other parts of the city. This is because drug cartels govern the area and don’t want police interference. Crime invites attention.

• Collaboration between police and drug groups exists, though it’s complex and not openly discussed.

• Cartels run their own “justice” systems, including informal jails and in some areas, brutal punishments like feeding thieves to crocodiles (our guide showed us one such video).

• Kids often begin sexual activity very young here, pointing to deeper systemic issues.

• Community organizations fill the gap where government services are missing, providing food, education, and social programs.

• Street parties happen every weekend and are famous for their energy and usually inclue armed patrols. Tourists are welcome, though mostly for the cash they bring (including for drugs). I didn’t attend any of these, but met several tourists who had.

• Michael Jackson famously filmed They Don’t Care About Us in the Santa Marta favela, bringing international attention to these communities.

Visiting Rocinha challenged the image I had of favelas. Yes, there’s poverty, and the presence of gangs is real, but so is the sense of community, resilience, and life. It’s a world running on its own terms, with its own rules and pace. Like so much of Brazil, it holds the contrast of beauty and hardship in the same breath.

Final Thoughts

From Brazil, I made my way to Spain for a quick reset before beginning a new chapter in Morocco. I’m now based in Marrakech, volunteering with the High Atlas Foundation for the next few months. With that, my time in Latin America has come to a close.

As I shared in my last post, this shift feels like a natural invitation to adapt how I travel. My priorities are slowing down, finding routine, contributing where I can, and going deeper into Arabic culture and daily life.

Looking back, it’s wild to think that seven months in Latin America have already passed. From celebrating Day of the Dead in Oaxaca to hitchhiking across Chile, this journey has been packed with stories I’ll carry for the rest of my life. It’s been raw, uncertain, sometimes deeply uncomfortable. Yet, not once have I regretted taking this leap. I’m filled with gratitude for every place and every person I’ve met, and for all that I’ve discovered about the world and myself along the way.

And yet, despite all of it, I’m still me. I’ve learned that this journey, like all of life, isn’t about sudden transformation. It’s a slow unfolding and listening for the quiet whisper of what calls next.

There are still hard days. I still waste time on my phone. I still forget the lessons I’ve already learned. But in all of this, I’m practicing grace. I’m learning that all of this is okay because imperfection is part of the path too.

Thank you so much for continuing to follow along. I look forward to sharing whatever comes next!

“The further I go, the closer I am to myself.” — Rumi

With love,
Adam