It amazes people how much it rains in Brazil. In January I managed to catch the Minas Gerais rainy season. My last day was spent in constant tropical rain as my host tried to shield us both with an umbrella. For my last meal, we took a bus up winding hills to visit her cousins.
“Favela?” I asked.
“Sim [yes],” she said.
When you think of Brazilian favelas you might not think of morbid obesity. Yet that was the state of many of her cousins on this hilltop. They were all very welcoming and spoke to me in slow portuguese so I could half understand them. The food never stopped flowing, rice, beans, meats, salads, beer, all kinds of chocolate desserts.
The next day I took a bus up to Belo Horizonte, the capital of Juiz de Fora. Of course, it was raining when I arrived. It barely stopped all week.