From Sao Miguel das Missoes we rode south towards the small town of Bossoroca. I followed a dirt road through large cattle pastures the entire way. Our first night on the road we slept in an old farm house. Friends from Sao Miguel put us in touch with the owner and he welcomed us graciously.

That night at 3:30am, Cluck Norris almost gave me a heart attack. Sleeping right near me in his cage, he began to crow like a mad man while flapping his wings. I dont know if he had a bad dream that he was on a KFC conveyer belt or what, but he scared the Jesus out of me. I awoke panting, ready to be brutally murdered when I realized it was just Cluck.
“Snooze, snooze,” I said hitting the top of the cage with my left hand.
After two days on the road we arrived in Bossoroca. We were greeted by Mauricio and his wonderful family.
“Welcome to my town friend, it’s so nice to host you here,” he said with a great big smile.
Mauricio, his older brother and father are one of the largest ranchers in the area.They run around 4,000 head of cattle on several properties. The farm where the mares rested was absolutely gorgeous.

Their pasture looked out into a green valley that seemed to go on forever.
“We also raise sheep and plant soya bean in the summers,” Mauricio told me over dinner that night.

They introduced me to a sweet bread/cake called Cuca. It’s a staple in the homes of Brazilians of German descent in the south of Brazil.
“My husband loves his cuca, if I don’t make it, he doesn’t eat dinner,” Mauricio’s mother said.
Well I’m going to take up this intelligent man’s thinking! Cuca is the best thing ever. You eat it with dinner so the sweetness of the bread mixes with the salty flavour of the food. I loved it.