Cultural Immersion on a Brazilian Highway

One hundred kilometers per hour. That’s how fast I was riding my motorcycle up the more neglected part of Brazil’s BR-101 highway when the back tire blew out. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere and the only Portuguese I spoke was what I had learned in a free course I had taken online. After assessing the damage to my bike, it turned out that the tire had been rendered unusable. It was under these circumstances that I came to meet Ilo, the owner of a small roadside minimarket and my personal hero.
After spending over three hours making calls helping me find a replacement, he offered me to stay in his home for the couple of days it would take until the tire arrived to his store. I was immediately overwhelmed by the kindness that this man and his family showed me, asking for nothing in return. Without a second guess, they offered food and shelter to a complete stranger that looked like a drifter. I have to admit that when I pulled up to his market/pool hall (interesting combination, I know), I was a bit apprehensive of him and the five slightly drunken men that came out to see what all the fuss was about. Later that night I understood that having drinks at Ilo’s bar was just one of the daily activities that the locals engaged in to pass the time. And what a time it was. There was so much that was going on in this seemingly tranquil area of the country: shady politics, a strange government-financed plague of pine trees, ghostly apparitions that roamed the highway at night, and the most interesting , a bottle of some unlabeled liquor that was given to Ilo by a real-life witch.
I learned so much from Ilo’s family but the best gift they gave me isn't something that needs to be paid back, but paid forward. To aid another person in times of need is gratifying upon itself. Maybe it’s the warm feeling of carrying out good deeds or the act of creating a connection with another human. In any case, the help he provided me is now something I try to extend to others as well.