“Yeh mate,” said John the tall Australian with the round belly, “Thailand is a pahty.”

We were at the Gecko hostel in Paraty, Brasil and when I’d reflect on this sentence later, I’d reminisce that if Thailand is a party, Brasil is a poem. It was my first exposure to my favorite continent, and from the moment my plane’s wheels touched down until I departed, every moment seemed touched with a pinch of sepia whimsy.