Feng laughed when I told him I was going to Blumenau—not my first option, but I was running out of ideas for this stretch of the trip.

Yes, Blumenau, in the state of Santa Catarina. No beach around, but a thriving German culture. That’s right. Blumenau is located in the “European Valley” region, and it’s often referred to as “Little Germany” because it was founded in 1850 by German philosopher and pharmacist Hermann Bruno Otto Blumenau.

Today, Blumenau is famous for its Oktoberfest celebration—yes, held in October, even in the Southern Hemisphere. It’s also a cheap way for Brazilians to experience European culture, I guess.

A trip to Blumenau had never occurred to me, since Florianópolis is arguably the best Santa Catarina experience you can get. I was aiming for anything, really, between Curitiba and São Paulo, but it turned out this area is mostly wilderness and small towns.

Did I really want to rent a house in the middle of nowhere? Absolutely not.

So I turned to good old Santos. Do you know what Santos Airbnb’s specialty is? Not providing linens and towels. All of them. And they weren’t cheap either—and I’m not that into Santos to begin with.

I looked the other way. Oh, right. Blumenau.

I don’t eat sausage, I don’t drink beer, and I don’t find German culture particularly exotic, but I am curious.

I booked Blumenau, where I found a very normal Airbnb that actually included linens and towels.

It was a bit of a detour, but a relatively easy one by Brazilian standards. Catarinense had a 10:30 a.m. bus arriving at 3:20 p.m. I booked the return as well, because I have to stop in Curitiba again.

Deal.

“Do you remember Curitiba’s bus terminal? It’s huge and very spread out,” Feng warned me. “Go early.”

“No memories of it, but thanks. I have to exchange my digital ticket for a paper one anyway.”

My departure the next day was very smooth. I got an Uber right away, I was early enough to line up at the Catarinense counter and get my paper ticket, and the bus was on time.

I promptly fell asleep.

I woke up because we weren’t moving.

I checked the time. Uh. A bit early for the semi-mandatory Brazilian lunch break.

I pulled the curtain aside and looked out the window. We were stuck on the road between giant trucks. Google Maps showed we were barely out of Curitiba. Traffic had come to a halt because of an accident.

I’m not sure how long we were stuck—at least an hour.

I drifted in and out of sleep, but I wasn’t comfortable because it was cold. Everyone around me had goosebumps too—why is the air con set so cold on so many buses?

We stopped for a 20-minute lunch break at 2 p.m. The driver looked pissed off, probably because it was so late, and lunch is serious business in Brazil. The buffet looked lovely too, but really, who feels like eating a full meal, cake, coffee, and more before getting back on the road?

I bought a cup of coffee, and I smiled at the cashier’s T-shirt: “Life happens and coffee helps.”

Well, life was certainly happening. According to Google Maps, we were still at least three hours from Blumenau. I texted my Airbnb host, who was waiting for me at the apartment.

And every hour or so, I texted another update, because for some mysterious reason we seemed to have just under two hours left—for hours.

So much for arriving at 3:20 p.m., finding my way around the city, and doing some grocery shopping for the night.

It took for fucking ever. The bus eventually pulled into Blumenau’s bus terminal at 6 p.m., and then it took another 15 minutes to find an Uber.

I can’t even explain why it took this long. Aside from the accident and the traffic jam just outside Curitiba, it had felt like a smooth trip.

I’m adding this one to the list of bus trips that took much, much longer than planned—all of them in Southern Brazil.

Damn. I have to figure out how to get back to Curitiba in just four days…