PART ONE: This Way a Traveler Comes In Which Our Intrepid Traveler Lands in Foreign Hospices; Is Accosted By the Locals; And Escapes By His Wits Alone To Live Another Day. "WHY did you knock down that child with your suitcase?" the customs officer asks me again, framed against harsh bright lights. It is a decent question, I have to admit. At this point in the interrogationÑthirty minutes have easily passedÑgood cop-bad cop tactics have given way to naked curiosity. Both seem genuinely interested to learn how I managed, having only been in their country for twenty minutes, to have maimed a local boy with my luggage. It is a bit of a long story, though, and I am disinclined to share it with themÑmainly because I have no way of explaining the situation in a way that doesn't make me look intensely guilty of the crime, which I very much am. I wisely decide to cut to the chase. "I have sizeable bribes to give you." I pull out my knapsack and toss wads of money and candy bars on the table, then make for the door in the ensuing gold rush. I navigate quickly through the dimly lit corridor, looking for any means of escape I can find. One hour before this, I am disembarking from an airplane, greeted by the brute majesty that is Western Brazil. My quarry are the elusive Tobatu, the last tribe on Earth still untouched and uncontacted by the modern world. A secretive and, until now, unheard of people, the Tobatu hide deep in the thick shelter of the rainforestÑfeeling its rhythms, running around naked, not really caring about it. On the face of it, it doesn't sound too different from your run-of-the-mill nudist colony, but in fact it is. The Tobatu have until recently managed to not exist at all, coming in under the radar of the civilized world time and again like some primitive stealth plane. Only now have they been spotted, and the anthropological world is alive with the news. After so many years of silence, who will be the first to finally establish that coveted first contact, to shake a Tobatu hand, to say, "heyÑwelcome aboard, fellahs." Well, clearly me. In fact, I wanted in so badly I could taste it. With everything on Earth pretty much discovered already, this was to be my last chance to get my name in the history books. But I had to hurry, before some nosy interloper beat me to the punch. A thin hairy man with a disarmingly large forehead meets me on the runway. He is named Renatio, and he has been dispatched by the Brazilian embassy to make sure I don't run off into the forest like an idiot and get myself killed. I am not being modest; this is actually the exact wording of the government's letter to me. Renato shakes my hand and launches into a steady stream of foreign tongue that I don't even slightly understand. The last thing I want is to look silly in front of the natives, though, so I give him my hat and pray to God that he'd been asking me for it. He puts on the hat and seems very pleased with himself. Crisis averted. I should mention that Renato, besides being the new owner of a very expensive hat, is the head of Brazil's Tribal Preservation Department, and the only person to have ever formed a friendship with the elusive Tobatu. (In my defense, he does live here, so I don't think it counts as a discovery.) Renato is an Indian tracker and a nomad, and he has the telltale squinty stare of someone who doesn't get out of the woods much. Actually, he reminds me a bit of the guy who ran the Tilt-A-Whirl at the carnival I went to as a kid. Renato has nobly agreed to guide me into the forest and introduce me to the Tobatu, so I can officially be the first person to find them. He has also agreed to be paid obscene amounts of money to stick to this story, should any reporters come asking questions. Renato takes my bags for me, and I let him. We trundle off the tarmac and walk in the general direction of the customs shanty, where I can get my bags inspected and receive the proper certifications. Renato tells me that he has fought long and hard with his government about my coming. "Hey, that was nice of you," I say, looking at some nearby buildings with my brand new binoculars. "You misunderstand me," he says. "I argued that you should not come, sir, under any circumstances." He gives me his squinty look. "Give me my hat back," I say. "The Tobatu have lived as they have for centuries, isolated from the rest of the world," he continues. "Who is to say this is not the way of things? I am not so confident that we are doing the right thing by introducing them to the civilized world." "Ahhh, I'll be gentle," I coo. I am pleased with the binoculars I've bought for the expedition, which I am discovering are totally cool. I press a button and zoom dramatically in on some stuff stacked against a building. "Sir, could you please to take one of your suitcases?" he says as he drops my luggage on the ground. "They are very heavy, and it is very hot." I roll my eyes and grab a suitcase. As we continue walking, I realize that we have earned the attention of a group of local children, who circle around us yelling and laughing in their native tongue. Chants of farnoku basabu and farnoku basabu rabma greet my ears, and I turn to Renato for an explanation. Farnoku basabu, he explains, is the native word for "white devil." This strikes me as amusing, and I allow myself a small chuckle, throwing the circling children some quarters, which I can only speculate are worth more here than the children themselves. Farnoku basabu rabma, Renato continues, is also native Brazilian, and translates loosely as "silly-looking white devil." I find this less amusing, but the children, hearing Renato repeat their taunts as he explains their meaning to me, find it intensely hilarious, and I get another burst of laughter from the little loudmouths. Luckily one gets overcourageous, getting close to laugh at my safari pants, and I take the opportunity to clip him with my suitcase as I walk by. With this, I hear a whistle blow, and before I know it I am tackled by customs agents. "Keep the car running!" I yell to Renato as I am dragged away. "And find me some outback clothes that aren't so funny-looking!" intro / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8