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It’s amazing how very familiar places can turn into whole new ones just by the people that are along with you. It’s amazing too how I, a shy person that don’t make friends easily, accepted to go on a trip as some sort of guide to a group of american tourists. The americans had came as missionaries to our little Bateias city, in south Brazil. Beyond going to church and helping the local community, we wanted to take them to the beach.So that’s how the peaceful Guaratuba turned into an adventure to me and my new friends. It began early in the morning. We put all the gringos (that’s how we friendly call foreigners) into the church van and went down the road to the coast. I knew quite well the way, but being with around 12 people that were from another country, changed it completely. The Atlantic Forest mountains, the green sea of leaves so well known for me, marvelled those people in a way that was almost funny. It troubled them. They keep imagining the kind of creatures that lived inside the forest. We talked to them about colorful macaws and prankish monkeys, and looking at the trees along the way they hoped to get a glimpse of a fearless yet mysterious jaguar. That forest became alive with all the mysteries that our imagination had created. Every branch could hide a rare bird, every water sound could point to a gelid river descending the mountain and every tree could have a dauntless and marvelling creature abiding within. And that was what we couldn’t see. For the view from the road, looking a long way down till you could see the bay, revealed the most beautiful scene of green trees speckled with blue and purple flowers and golden leaves from the ipes trees. Reaching Guaratuba beach a greyish roof of rain covered the city. The gringos had their lunch and tasted one local specialty, the ordinary yet delicious tangerines growing on the yard. I was finally getting used to talking just in English. Actually there were others brazilians with us but the pastor’s wife, a sweet and scary lady, strictly forbid us speaking Portuguese. So it was quite a experience to be in such a ordinary beach house, eating tangerines and watching the rainfall while hearing a bunch of foreigners words. Felt like being in a dream. The gringos wanted to see the sea despite all the rain and cold air. At the beach we found one of the most solemn landscapes that God put in the world: a long and plain way of soft sand leading to the infinity union of sea and sky, the first of dark-greeny water and the other of light-greyish clouds. The only sound you can hear is the wind. If you pay sufficient attention, you can hear it whispering. What it whisper changes from each person. For me he was worshiping his Creator, and my heart was in peace. We played in that quiet beach, the icy water chilling our feet.The Pastor called us to the final spot of the quick trip. We used to call it the Mount of the Christ. Quite different (that is pretty smaller) from his famous brother that stood in Rio de Janeiro, but attended our needs. A fog came closer to us and soon we’re immersed on the white veil, like Moses who had been immersed on the holy glory cloud of God’s presence. Thunder and lighting came from His presence unto him and changed Moses forever. Now we were in a distinct kind of cloud, but I surely felt God with us on that place. At the top of the Christ belvedere I looked to my new friends all around me. Their smiles, their sparkling eyes and overjoyed laughs, their peace of heart transformed that place. A very familiar place became familiar in a different way: despite the strange language, now it wasn’t just ordinary, it was familiar because it felt like home. And I hope that they had felt the same.