And after all of the miles and the bumps, the buses and boats, the dramas and the laughs, I found myself back in a happy home! We were back at G´s house in Ouro Branco, Minas Gerais, a pristine area that attracts less than its fair share of tourists.

We fought over our different accounts of the stories we were telling to her parents and cousin, taking ad libbing and contradicting to a whole new level! And to give me a special taste of the home that I was missing in Ireland, my Mom had sent over a care package which was set upon and devoured.

This was the reward after months of traveling, the oasis at the end of the journey. And it was welcomed. But there were things to do and see, this wasn´t a convalescence home! On our first full day, we set off to go see an actual Rodeo, my first and it was interesting to see the ceremony that went into the preamble before the action.

Ok, interesting was one word, mind numbingly cold and drawn out could be others! It was bitterly cold as the clock ticked on to nearly 11pm before a cowboy came out all in white (his uber tight jeans looking suspiciously like it had been stolen from the Mardi Gras Parade) to rile up the crowd. His antics were actually welcomed as we sipped on hot chocolates laced with brandy.

But he went on, and on, and on until I feared that rigor mortis set in. To stave this off, he turned to divine inspiration as for over 30 minutes prayers were said to a large poster of Jesus and the Virgin Mary (unrolled to fireworks no less) and then another smaller statue to some divine entity I couldn´t see hovered over the rodeo ring. The Ave Maria was sung live and eventually the contest began.

But obviously the bulls had been kept waiting too long as they were less than enthused by the delays, some of them giving up the ghost entirely and making the rather sheepish looking cowboys actually climb off them rather than ejecting them like you see on TV. It was actually thoroughly enjoyable in a Monty Python kind of way..

Next day though it was my turn to face my fears as I went horse riding for the first time. Now this was truly exhilarating, putting my years of watching Westerns to good use by mounting the horse unaided first time off, I was a natural. But being a natural is one thing on the outside, but I was freaking out on the inside!

The first time you are on a horse and by some weird mix of whistles, clicks and kicks the beast interprets that you want to go for a gallop, oh my Good Lord, your entire innards try to escape the imminent fall by trying to escape through every orifice possible. It is truly terrifying in a wonderful way.

But soon I got the hang of it, dare I say it, I took to it quite well which is more than I can say for my posterior. We rode through the countryside, our `posse` got up to about 20 riders at one point (G cycled alongside now that she was reunited with her beloved bike) and it was a new `first` for me.

I must have been doing well because Gerrit, G´s Dad, insisted I take his big horse after our first break. I internally questioned the wisdom of this but my machismo wouldn´t let me turn down the challenge and then I could really motor (ok, fast trot I would have to admit!)

It was so much fun but you have to pay the piper and I was exhausted afterwards and yes, my bum was killing me next day!

But that wasn`t the only sporting activity of the week. Freed from the shackles of our backpacks, we went for runs, tennis matches on their court and I got to watch Liverpool on TV again for the first time in months (and anyone that has watched a game with me knows how much energy that takes)

We took day trips through the surrounding countryside to the more famous towns of Congonhes and Ouro Preto. The former is known primarily for the famed sculptures ``The Prophets`` which were carved by Aleijandinho, Brazil`s most famous artist, not just for the intricacies of his artwork as the fact that he had suffered from a terrible disease which left his hands as stumps and he had his tools attached instead.

As impressive as the sculptures were, the views that they looked down on were even more so. South American towns are beautiful, that is the truth of it. But here, with the multicoloured hills aching with colours as the sun set and the painted white houses with the woodstained roof tiles in the foreground, it really was a picture worthy of the great artists finest works.

Ouro Preto is a similarly beautiful town, all cobblestoned and colourful. It was the centre of a massive gold rush back in the day and at its peak, it had over twice as many inhabitants as New York. The churches were particularly impressive as the gold adorned everywhere. This was an area that the party mad backpackers that thing that they are `experiencing` South America definitely miss and I was thankful of seeing it, particularly with G as my guide.

Another trip away brought us to Belo Horizonte, the third biggest city in Brazil. We were there for two reasons, firstly to see the famous Sunday markets and secondly to watch a football match in the second biggest stadium in Brazil. You don`t even need to know me that well to know which one I preferred more...

I love markets, I really do. It`s the people that go to markets that kill it for me... The slow, shunt forward as everyone cranes their necks to see every single stall; the continual fear that you are providing such a slow target that it could be considered entrapment if you got pickpocketed; and then the mind numbing assertion that no matter what you see, you know in your heart of hearts that you aren´t going to buy anything because by buying something, you have to carry it on the road...

The football however was much better. You can spend the entire game just watching the crowd, such unbridled passion! Fortunately, unlike some of other South American experiences there was no violence on show and it was great to think I was seeing where many of the World Cup 2014 matches would be held. It`s going to be epic.

It had been such a great two weeks, I couldn`t believe it had been that long but then I had to go. I had to get on the road again and try to make sense of a few things, travel to a destination (Buenos Aires) that had been my initial goal in February before all of the incredible things that had happened to me in the interim 7 months.

The turning point was meeting Ollie, who put me on the road to La Paz and Olivers Travels, which put in a position to meet G, who has truly become one of the most influential and people I have ever met.

There is no way I could describe in words adequately what the last few months have meant to me as a traveller and as a person and I am sure she would rather that this not be the medium through which I try so I will simply but meaningfully say, "You are awesome!"

And so, for all of my future sins and triumphs, I was on the road again but with a heavy heart. I was set for Rio De Janeiro, a stop off as `I was in the neighbourhood´ and wondering where this wanderlust would bring me now.

The answer was an apartment turned tattoo parlour and an asthmatic dog!