" After seeing those 50 men gingerly moving that
banana car of half the capacity of one of Sir Herbert Martin's
box cars, I began to catch the idea.
We had lunch in a super class French restaurant. For some unknown
reason our host and his sprightly wife wanted to take us to The
Jungle--a real, for sure Brazilian jungle some 140 kilometers on
beyond Sao Paulo. We started, but long, long before The Jungle we
practically ran out of road. They were improving and re-locating
the highway. We held a caucus. Our host was as game as they come.
. . Open revolt came when our host said he had inquired and was
assured the road would get better farther on and that he would
have us back aboard ship by midnight, perhaps before that time. A
vote was taken. Three were for returning then and there, with one
not voting. We turned around and headed back for Sao Paulo.
On the way out toward The Jungle we met truck after truck loaded
high with sacked charcoal enroute to Sao Paulo where it sells as
high as a doctor's bill back home. It is used in cooking. There
seemed to be no coal. Gasoline is expensive and oil men tell me
it is not as good as our "regular." No Ethyl.
Our host, knowing we had driven from Rio to Petropolis, at the
day's end told us we had traveled almost half of the total good
road mileage of Brazil.
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