t a closed course. We’re careening through the heart of the CBD. My blood is pumping as I anticipate what’s ahead, just around the next blind bend.
In an attempt to calm my nerves, I try a little ill-advised chitchat with one of the straw-hatted drivers, whom I later learn are called carreiros. “Is this your first day?” I ask, in a feeble attempt at a joke. Ha ha. The man doesn’t even smile. “Yes,” he responds, from his perch standing on the back of the sledge. No further comment. But, soon enough, we glide to the finish, safely at the bottom of the two-kilometre route. It’s both a relief, and, somehow, a triumph, despite the fact I’ve done nothing but sit there in that traditional wicker basket sledge.
Getting out, riding an adrenaline high, I’m ready for the next big adventure.
