Four Roads South Four roads run across the south, four numbers on the same old map. I leave Porto Alegre with the morning, and let the road decide the rest. Fifty-one. Porto Alegre behind me, the river catching the first light. Canoas, Gravataí, roads filling up before the day gets warm. The highway bends toward the coast, past fields and little towns. I keep that number in my head, fifty-one stays with this road. Then the land gets bigger. Fifty-three. Pelotas in the south, Rio Grande out beyond the fields. Farther west, the grass runs wide, and the fences seem to have no end. A horse turns its head beside the road. The wind comes hard across the plain. There is a different kind of silence here, the kind that makes you listen. Fifty-three. Four numbers. Four pieces of the same state. Fifty-one, Porto Alegre. Fifty-three, Pelotas. Fifty-four, Caxias do Sul. Fifty-five, Santa Maria. Say it once when you're passing through, say it twice when you're far from home. Four roads south, four numbers to remember, Rio Grande do Sul beneath your wheels. The road climbs now. Fifty-four. Caxias in the hills, vineyards running along the slopes. Bento Gonçalves, old stone walls, morning mist between the valleys. The road feels smaller here, the hills keep changing shape. Then the country opens again toward Passo Fundo. Fifty-four. And then I turn inland. Fifty-five. Santa Maria beneath a wide sky. Beyond it, the road keeps going. Ijuí, Santo Ângelo, towns scattered across the northern country. Red earth beside the pavement, long grass moving in the wind. The farther west I travel, the more the border feels close. Fifty-five. Fifty-one... Fifty-three... Fifty-four... Fifty-five... Four numbers. That's the whole trick. Fifty-one, Porto Alegre. Fifty-three, Pelotas. Fifty-four, Caxias do Sul. Fifty-five, Santa Maria. Four roads south, four numbers in the dust. When the map gets strange, these four can bring you back. Porto Alegre — fifty-one. Pelotas — fifty-three. Caxias do Sul — fifty-four. Santa Maria — fifty-five. Fifty-one — Porto Alegre. Fifty-three — Pelotas. Fifty-four — Caxias do Sul. Fifty-five — Santa Maria. Fifty-one, Porto Alegre. Fifty-three, Pelotas. Fifty-four, Caxias do Sul. Fifty-five, Santa Maria. Four roads south, four numbers I can trust. Rio Grande do Sul, I know these roads now. ©2026 FL.AIR | All Rights Reserved Crafted with love, passion, a touch of soul, a weird sense of Humor and so much more.
