A única coisa que se muda é o endereço.

Ever been to a rodeo? Cow ropin? Hog tyin? Barrel racin?

Spent any time around Cowboys?

This is a diagram of the traditional course for barrel racing. The video below is a different type of competition. I'm not sure of the name.

If you answered yes to any of the above questions, answer this:

Been to more than one rodeo in different towns? Different states? Different countries?

I won’t say that I “grew up around the rodeo”, but my small town of Isanti, MN hosted one of the largest rodeos in the state every summer. I was no stranger to the weekend excitement every July.

I won’t say that I “grew up around horses”, but, by the time I turned 12, I was an experienced rider. (Oh how I wanted my own horse when I was kid.)

I won’t say that I “grew up on a farm”, but my father did and as a child we grew or raised (or my father hunted) pretty much everything my family ate on the 12.5 acres we called home.

All of that must be why, while visiting my friend Francesca this past weekend—whose daughter recently became a proud horse owner, I was in no way put off by the prospect of watching some barrel racing in Macae,RJ, Brasil.

What I did not know, was how much I would recognize. For example:

Cowboys love country music and God (listen to the song in the background and notice as this young rider makes the sign of the cross after her run)

Skewered meat/barbeque goes hand-in-hand with ranchin’ (and cold beer).

Farms are dirty.

That my father and my uncles have Brazilian twins.

This man, from behind, looked so much like my Uncle Bob I wanted to give him a hug. There was another man competing who resembled my father; Sierra pointed him out but not in time to snap his foto.

It was such a fun experience to be around generous, kind-hearted, fun-loving people who literally spent 12+ hours on the ranch, racin and having a great time that day--in the hot Brazilian sun might I add. While we were all exhausted, drove back the 30 minutes to Francesca's oceanfront apartment, took hot showers, put on clean clothes, not covered in dust and smelling like horse, ate pasta, and crashed. The Cowboys and Cowgirls, on the other hand, finished their day of fun with a heel tappin, yee-hawin barn dance 'til dawn.

For a minute, I wished I had a horse and was a Cowgirl too.

I guess some things are the same no matter where you go.

The only thing that changes is the address.