My journey into the epicenter of the Brazilian pro bull riding world happened like many things in life – through a random meeting with a friend of a friend of a friend.  Richard Todd, documentary maker, put me on to Ben from the Roar agency, who put me onto Chris from Express Sports Agency , who put me onto Paulo Crimber ( pro Brazilian bull rider who is injured) who introduced me to the other Brazilian riders. 

  I meet Paulo Crimber outside my hotel room.  He has a medium build, brown eyes, honest face.  His English is very good and accented with and pronounced Texan accent.  He wears a cowboy hat, checkered shirt and leather boots – and it is immediately apparent, of course, that I’m shockingly under-dressed in shorts and thongs.   Paulo tells me about his current injuries.  He broke the c1 bone in his neck six months ago.  Before that, he was out for another 6 months because of a broken bone in his neck.

  “So you broke a bone in your neck, came back, and then broke another bone in your neck?” I query, incredulously. 

  “Yep, it happened on my first ride back.”

  “Are you planning to ride bulls again?”

  “Yeah, is looking that way.”

  While speaking, Paulo runs a little metal cross through his fingers.  It does not feel right to question his religious beliefs.

  I follow him to the ranch of his friend Valdiron.  Valdiron de Oliveira is currently ranked 4^th on the PBR World Tour.  (He was leading the ratings earlier in the year but missed 6 events because of an injury.)   Valdiron is one of the most open and inclusive people I’ve ever met.  Immediately following introduction, he gives me a tour of every room in his house.  He actually walks me into the bedroom that he shares with his wife.  Seriously, who does that?    I converse with Valdiron in the broken Portuguese that I’d learnt three years ago when living in Brazil.  Having forgotten many words, my Portuguese is not fluent but he seems to appreciate the effort and speaks some English.  We come to an arrangement; I’ll speak Portuguese and he’ll respond in English. 

  I go horse riding with Valdiron, Paulo Crimber and another bull rider, Paulo Lima.  They promise me a tame horse, and, apart from brushing up against a fence and walking backwards, he’s fairly mellow.   Actually, it feels pretty good to be back on a horse.  While trotting around the yard doing my best not to fall, they’re darting in and out of each like maniacs.   Afterwards, we have lunch at a restaurant in town.  They each order a large margarita.  I decide not to have one – it may be a good bonding maneuver but I’ve resolved to give up drinking and am sticking to it.   

  In the afternoon we go to a bull riding “buckout”.    Essentially, everyone puts in 5 dollars and the winner takes the 500 dollar jackpot.   I sit down on a chipped wooden railing beside two old men with thick Texan accents, and listen to them talk feeling happy.  There is something immensely pleasurable about listening to wise old men speak with a Texas accent.   There is a man selling hotdogs and drinks beside us.  Young white guys, who all seem to look the same with their cowboy hats, bull riding bags slung over their shoulders and smelling of brute deodorant, begin showing up.  Some buy hot dogs from the vendor.    Valdiron decides not to ride (saving himself for the PBR event on the weekend) but Silvano and Paulo will ride and I have a feeling that no amount of hot dogs or youthful abandon will take the money from them.   Sure enough, they finish first and second and split the jackpot.  It is, frankly, unfair.

  They Brazilians leave the way they arrived – joking and laughing with Brazilian country music playing from their car stereo.   Valdiron expresses an interest in learning English and I promise to teach him twice a week.   Meanwhile, I have secured work in exchange for food and board from the man who organized the buckout – Chris.

   I do need buy bull riding equipment pronto, having left what I did have at Gary Leffew’s ranch in California.  Another post coming soon.