Water Sports

As it turned out, I never did switch hostels here in Paraty. I should be on the bus to Sao Paulo but decided to stay here one extra day just for admin duties and relaxation. The last couple of days have been full of Adventure.

Saturday finished off with Em Concerto, the quirky and silent puppet show down one of the towns many cobbled streets. Seven pieces, all on different aspects of life, made up the one hour I enjoyed, sat glued to the entertainment on the front row in the cosy theatre. It was a wonderful form of entertaiment that I´d highly recommend, if ever you´re passing through. When me and the like-minded intellectuals had vacated this creative oasis, I headed to the snazzy Che Bar to meet up with Ciaran, who had been sinking numerous beers while I´d been away. On the menu, I particularly liked the sound of ´Fidel´s Chicken.` Also present were a Dutch couple we´d met briefly on Ilha Grande called Anouk and Stuart (another loose translation) and a group of three girls visiting the area. Their network was made up of Adrienne from Sao Paulo, Lesley from Australia and another girl from Rio, who´s name at this point eludes me. We had drinks and laughs until around 2am.

Of the many days in Brazil where I´ve been faced with rain, Sunday was one where I had no such encounter. It was therefore fitting that on this day, we chose to take a group trip to the seaside. Ciaran, myself and the three amigas we´d met the night before jumped into a packed mini-bus and headed to Trinidade, a touristy coastal down with lots of delightful beaches.

The twenty minute journey down the Emerald Coast was extremely scenic, with the coast on one side and rich, green rainforests to the other.

Our first stop was, as expected, a big beach. We climbed a big rock which was excellent for getting a better view, then strolled along to another point for more opportunities to give our camera lenses a suitable workout. Sadly, Ciaran dropped his camera and it broke. He was down but not quite out.

When we were all satisfied with what we´d seen, we piled back in the Adventure Paraty mini-bus and advanced to the next stop a few minutes down the road. This was the centre of Trinidade and this being a Brazilian bank holiday weekend meant the beaches were packed. After a quick beer in the sun, me and Ciaran decided against a long walk and opted for a boat ride over to a natural swimming pool on the other side of the bay.

Upon arrival, the initial sense was one of confusion and resignation. As the only real way in and out of the place was via boat, and the queue was constantly pretty huge, we figured we best try and find a rock like all the other people and just hang out. We did find a rock although we did look liked prize idiots due to it´s size and shape but it was the only place we could a) find and b) climb.

Here we chilled for an hour or so before heading back on the boat with the three girls who had now joined us again. On docking at the beach, all with bags and clothing adorned, just as we were about to disembark, a huge wave from behind me and Ciaran came crashing over us all and instantly covered our group in despair.

Dripping, we headed to a restaurant by the sea, where the girls had a big fish with salad, I polished off the leftovers and Craig sat shivering while he hung up his t-shirt and towel to dry in the chilly afternoon breeze.

Satisfied and tired, we headed back to Paraty. Being a bank holiday, the town´s bars and restaurants were packed, spilling out onto the cobbled streets, with markets, clowns and music also adding to the party atmoshphere. While the rest of the gang waited for food at the restaurant, I headed off in search of a bargain, which resulted in a deep fried pizza pasty and a chocolate crepe on a stick. When all was digested, we strolled round to Dinho´s, a popular bar with live music. Here we marvelled at the locals dishing out their dance moves and downed a couple more Itaipavas.

Another day, another trip. And for this warm Monday, it was a jeep trip to waterfalls and distilleries.

As a result of a previously unmentioned meal me and Ciaran sandwiched in the night before, my stomach was feeling none to well when I awoke. An initial visit to the hostel banheiro confirmed my fears. Regardless, I joined Ciaran and a two Brazilian couples in the back of the jeep and off we headed into the wilderness.

Our first port of call was essentially a huge rock that doubled up as a waterslide. Crazed locals ran, surfed and jumped down this cascading wall of water and we were encouraged to do the same. With my own digestive mechanics playing up, alongside the fact I was wearing underpants and weighty shorts, socks and trainers (and no towel), it would be fair to say at this point I was cautious about the idea. I imagined a worse case scenario for my dilemma and it wasn´t pretty.

Peer pressure got the better of me though and soon I was sliding down the rocks on my back and plunging into the pool at the bottom. My second attempt didn´t fair so great as I got too much grip and had to shuffle myself down, much to the amusement of Ciaran and all the other onlookers. If my pale white skin didn´t already attract enough attention, my retarded surfing technique certainly did. My guide Carlos later told me, `You not from England. You from Moscow!`

Fortunately from here, the rum distillery we visited was just over the road from the rock slide. On realising this and feeling my insides turn to hell, I asked Carlos where the toliet was. Despite missing out on how it is you make rum, I was content. Temporarily relieved, I rejoined the group and tasted some Cachaça.

Then we went off-road seemingly to nowhere through the jungle until we landed at a place where there were beer cans growing on the trees. After a five minute trek, we landed at another natural swimming pool, like the day before, but this was more secluded and intimate. Ciaran swam in the cold water, belly-flopped and then just dive-bombed until he could do no more.

When everyone was suitably dried, we jumped in the jeep and ambled to a seventeenth century farm which is now a rum distillery and restaurant among several other things. We had a lovely steak meal and some wonderful homemade coffee. Me and Ciaran also found some guns to play with. I said before I came out here that I wanted to get a picture of someone with a gun but a cockney in a QPR shirt with an antique rifle wasn´t quite what I´d hoped for.

Our final stop was again in the middle of the jungle/forest and involved a pool of water and a rope. By this point, my internal issues seemed to have resolved themselves and so I had a new found vigour and purpose. Despite the now darkening skies hanging over us and my shorts drying out by the minute, I was determined not to let this moment pass. After an excellent demo by Carlos, I followed him up a muddy path, grabbed the rope and swung like an ape before plummeting into the big black pool of water. Ciaran soon followed as did bucket loads of rain, at which point we made a hasty dash to the jeep for our journey back home.

After a good power-nap, me and Ciaran headed round to Anouk and Stuart´s hostel where they made us pasta and steak, which was delicious. We headed into town which was deserted in comparison to previous nights and I had a truffle and a Snickers-like block of something before, again, we had some beers. To round off the evning, we sat in an empty bar where we were treated to a wonderfully intimate performance by a couple of musicians on a Spanish guitar.

Today I´m just hanging out and going for food with friend Ciaran before tomorrow, we head to Terra da Garoa (Land of Drizzle) and the brand new Olha Hostel.

All the new pics are HERE on Flickr. Go take a look...