The other day I returned home from school early. I saw my host dad riding in a carro (bull cart) with one of his helpers, so I asked for a ride. Cristhian, my host brother, and his friend scrambled up the wheels into the cart. I tried the same, failing miserably and scraping up my arm in the process because the cart had started to move. I got up the more conventional route, sitting down on the back and hoisting myself up. The two bulls were new and the two men were testing them out, with success. They even let me steer the cart for a while, which is much harder than it looks (and that ride is much bumpier than it seems!) After the ride, I went out to the fields with my host parents where I helped them pick mandioca, while my mom mocked me for covering the back of my pants in red dirt (from trying to get into the cart). I broke the mandio off in pieces, covering my hands in dirt. I then walked with my dad through the farm while he talked about the cows. I returned to the house, my hands and pants dirty, my feet scratched up from walking through the chacra in my sandals, and my arm bruised, but completely content. I realized that this is why I’m in
P.S. Anyone who can tell me what movie the title of this blog is from wins a prize.