I had a moment of anxiety as we drove Highway 317 toward the capital of Rondónia State, Porto Velho (the old port). It was a hundred degree Saturday, we were now in the Eastern Time Zone, and I needed to check in with Layne to make sure she was okay with this slightly off beat journey north to the Guyanas.
Rusty had got some skin infection we have to treat, he’s had it before in the tropics and here we are again rubbing lotion on a hot spot, poor bugger. The days are a hundred degrees or more and it’s too hot outside without air conditioning. Should we turn south to cooler latitudes I asked myself, and spare my family?
Layne said we were within 600 miles of Guyana so we might as well finish what we started so I surrendered to her decision. We are off the beaten path but we shall beat our own. We will do it together and Rusty will still love us after this madness is all over.
We stopped for lunch by the Madeira River a pretty spot with a breeze but ten bucks a plate for a buffet seemed a bit much. These buffet meals feel like fuel to me not a cultural experience. I can’t read what the food labels say and I have only a best guess to figure out what I’m putting on my plate.
Brazil is humbling as I realize how confusing Mexico must seem to a non Spanish speaker. Still the view was nice. 
Anyone who tells you one can get by with Spanish in Brazil is someone who has never traveled off the tourist path. We blunder ahead and hope for the best. We have a Brazilian app to find campgrounds but Porto Velho, the capital of Rondónia State is ill equipped to accommodate motor homes even though it’s a city filled with broad avenues. 
We decided to get a room in a hotel but I’ll tell you what: there are no hotels that take large dogs and also have swimming pools. We looked and none of the hotel receptionists spoke a lick of anything but Portuguese. What a struggle.
We took a room at the Slaviero hotel owned by an English speaking Slavic owner who doesn’t usually take big dogs like Rusty but made an exception for one night. We escaped the heat.
Tomorrow we tackle food shopping and look for a couple of fuel jugs and set our sights on the road to Manaus, red dust on the way to the heart of the Amazon. This is what we came here to do. Wish us luck.
