From Amambai we had a lengthy drive south skirting along the border with Paraguay which we very nearly entered for a third time but opted to not tempt fate so crassly again. I had wanted this elusive country's passport stamp and maybe buy a t-shirt. Have you ever heard of anyone who's been to Paraguay? Have you heard of anything whatever of this country? Yeah, I thought so. That's really the only reason I'd been tempted to cross in again but in the end I said heck with it and at last veered left on the long road back to Rio by way of Curitiba and Sao Paulo. This part of the country is more densely populated but still rural. The traffic picks up again, unwelcome though it was, and makes for often irritating games of playing chicken with the oncoming traffic of the other lane. Few of Brazil's highways have two lanes going in the same direction except for short sections going uphill where trucks slow down to a glacial tempo while belching malevolent fumes. My Dad and I pass the time talking about any conceivable subject and when we run out of things to say we retreat into the conversations within our own heads. Somehow I never run out of utterly trivial things to think about and can focus so intently that when my attention is disturbed by any outside stimuli, my Dad suddenly restarting a conversation or perhaps a truck up ahead disintegrating apart as it rolls off a cliff, I'm actually a little annoyed that my private fantasy was interrupted. I'm just odd this way.
Guaparuava is the name of today's stop if I got the name spelled right. The car's trip odometer shows 2500 clicks have rolled by, in kilometers, since we were given the keys a week ago.