The City that Keeps On Giving

Not only does Rio boast the beautiful surroundings, happening nightlife and everything else I´ve waxed lyrical about in the last few posts, but a two hour bus ride and an hour-long boat trip will bring you from there to Ilha Grande – an island paradise the likes of which I thought only existed in the Caribbean. We´d checked the weather at least five times a day for about a week before we left – and luckily both BBC and MSN got it right with their optimistic predicitions. Unsurprisingly, it was to prove the perfect break from the frenetic pace of Rio.

The bus journey there was short and uneventful, apart from the very weird ´Santa-land´boarded-up theme park we glimpsed through the window. Despite the fierce sunshine, it looked like something straight out of Scoobydoo. After an ill advised trek with our backpacks from the bus station to the port (what do you mean there are buses and taxis you´re supposed to get? Oops…) we boarded the boat, where we bumped into a group of Israeli guys we´d first met at Mellow Yellow. I totally heart Israelis. They are the perfect mix of sarcasm, humour and hotness. They were with a bigger group from the hostel, and we had all coincidentally booked to stay in the same place in Ilha Grande. Yay!

To get to the hostel – Aquario – we had to lug our backpacks accross a wide expanse of beach, jumping over a narrow channel where the water from the mountains runs down into the ocean (scary…). It was such a lovely hostel. Sam and I had survived 10 days – our longest stretch so far – in dorms (Rio, as I may have said, is WAY expensive) so we checked into an uber-cute double room with a sense of relief. Its window looked out onto the sea, you could hear the waves from the bed, and there was a cheery flower painted orange on the wall. All this, and a private bathroom. Luxury.

We ate at the hostel, braving it only half way back accross the beach in the dark before turning back due to KILLER CRABS which were enormous, entirely otherworldly-looking and coating the sand in their hundreds. Actually, I was pretty brave (on that occasion). Sam squealed and legged it back to the safety of the path. Later on though, we pulled ourselves together and, picking up our feet like dressage ponies (really), we went back into ´town´ to explore. The quotation marks denote that it wasn´t actually a town at all – just three unpaved, sandy roads and a beachfront, studded with little restaurants, the odd bar, a few guesthouses and the odd surf shop. So far from the city, the stars were abundant, and seemed far closer than usual.

After a quick look around and a drink, we headed back and joined what was a particularly lovely group, including the Israelis and their Mellow Yellow friends at the hostel bar.

It was a quiet night – Ilha Grande is all about the daytime – and we were in bed early. The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and we decided to get a boat to Lopez Mendes, one of the hundreds of ´most beautiful beaches in Brazil.´It was stunning – swathes of sand, blue water, and a green mountain backdrop. The only problem was that the water wasn´t calm enough for swimming, but we made do with jumping in the waves and trying unsuccessfully to bodysurf back to shore. (We´re so hard done by…) The rest of the people from our hostel were there too, so there was a great atmosphere, even when that wily tide came in a little too quickly and soaked me, my ipod (which is miraculously still working) and everything in my bag.

It´s autumn here, and although it was really hot during the day, if a bit windy, once it got to around 4 most of the beach was in shade, and the tide was coming in pretty fast, so we headed back. Night fell with a swoop – the speed of which we´re finding is characteristic here. I think it´s because we´re nearer the equator, but then again, I know less than nothing about science. Science conversations are banned between Sam and I, as we literally never know what we are talking about and before long always call on the absent expertise of Wendy to help us…

Despite the fact that we were watching our cash, we decided to sign up for the 20 Real bbq at the hostel. And it was worth it. The food was delicious, the caipirinas and company better, and the Israelis taught us a brilliant card game called Yaniv which I am already itching to play with those of you at home who are into games. You know who you are. It ended up being a big party, with people from the next door hostel, as well as various island dwellers pouring in. There was even dancing. And highly tuneless singing along from Sam and I. And others, we weren´t like giving a show or anything.

The next day was one of my faves of the whole trip so far. With a group of friends we signed up to a boat trip to the mysteriously named Blue Lagoon. I was a bit cheesed off when we first saw the boat – i had thought it would be one just for us 12, but ended up being far bigger, with around 60 people on it. A tad too Club Med for my liking. But in the event it was great. The deck was huge, and covered in thin mattresses so that we could sunbathe between stops. Having so much space was excellent as we could chat, play cards and eat the delicious fruit that was laid on halfway through.

We made three stops. The first was at another beautiful beach, this one with calmer waters so I could have a proper swim; perfect, with stunning scenery floating by. It certainly beat St. Georges Pools on the Highway in Wapping. After around another hour on the boat, we docked at some rocks at the edge of the lagoon – a flat-looking stretch of blue sea with a deceptively strong current. Cue jumping from the highest point of the boat into the water, swimming out to an island – which was clearly owned by someone judging by the ´Private property´signs and beautiful house. Everyone promptly started planning how to buy said island for themselves.

The final stop was for eating. Stupidly we hadn´t brought any food with us; the day before we´d been prepared Patricias with rolls, cheese spread and tomatoes we had to eat like apples due to a lack of knives. There were a couple of restaurants in league with the boat, all offering the same food at inflated prices. Such as 3 quid for a tiny bowl of chips, which Sam and I shared in lieu of a proper lunch. A little annoying but it hardly cast a shadow on the day.

After that it was a lazy journey back to our town. I put on my ipod and lay down. My god, I have never been so relaxed in my life. It was like all troubles just swam away.

Ilha Grande also boasts literally the BEST icecream parlour I have ever been to. It´s self service, with 30 flavours, almost the same amount of toppings, from chocolate chips to nuts to penny sweets, 10 different sauces, including a vat of melted chocolate and warm cherries. Wow! If only we lived in a hotter country this idea would be my ticket to a fortune – and possibly how I could purchase that island in the Blue Lagoon. We all piled in there like Sweet Valley High kids to the Dairy Queen and stuffed our faces. So yes, my lunch was icecream and chips, but hey, I was a happy girl…

Sam and I moved to a new place the next morning. The poussada up the road was cheaper, and actually nicer. It felt more like a hotel, and besides, we´d forgotten to reserve at Aquario for the extra night and it was totally booked up. We found the nearest beach and set up camp there for the day, soaking up the last rays of sun before journeying back to Rio the following day. That night we went out for a delicious meal on the beach. I don´t want to make anyone puke but it was soooo romantic. It had been great being with a fun group for a few days, but was nice to be on our own too.

Although we have taken that a little to an extreme now that we´re back in Rio for a couple of nights. We wanted to try out a new area – Lapa – where there´s a street party every Friday night. The hostel we´re in got a great rating on hostelbookers (our new bible) but in fact it is Ghost Hostel. We are the only people here, save for one other young boy in our dorm, and an older couple who seem to be in the private room. The atmosphere is pretty weird. It´s a pretty place, but to get to the toilets and showers you have to go through the kitchen and outside. I guess it´s lucky it´s so empty or all and sundry would have been, erm, treated to the sight of me scurrying back to my room in my towel.

Also, the staff here are a little annoying. They just sit and watch the big TV in the lounge (which is supposed to be for guests), and we are charged for everything, from internet to towels. Still, it´s cheaper than staying in Copacabana where we were before, and we are ideally placed for the Lapa street party which we went to last night.

It was just another brilliant side to this brilliant city. Countless bars, food stalls, mobile cocktail bars and beer stands are strung out accross three or four roads that fan out from an old, eerily lit up aqueduct. It was packed – it felt like all of Rio was there, from favela kids to gringos, transvestites hanging around the gay bars and Cariocas (the name for people from Rio) dressed up to the nines and raring to go. The atmosphere was amazing – it felt like a festival, with people teeming from the bars and dancing in the streets. And it goes on every Friday. I blame the caipirinas, which are totally lethal. We wandered around for a little while, enjoying the pounding assault on the senses. What a place to people watch! After a while we bumped into the guys we´d been in Ilha Grande with, which meant squealing and hugging as if they were long lost friends we hadñ´t seen for years, not people we´d only just met and saw yesterday. All part of the fun.

As we met them the heavens opened and we ran for refuge in the nearest club (1 real entry – that´s more like it). Unfortunately, it was BOILING and playing hip hop – not really our kind of music. It was really fun to be with the guys in a big gang, but before too long, Sam and I snaked our way back out to the street to find somewhere else. We plumped for what looked like a corrugated iron shack with an excellent mix of Brazilian music and songs we knew blaring from the partway open roof. If I´m totally honest, I was just a little bit worse for wear by that point. We danced Brazilian style and chatted to some other people we´d met earlier in the trip. At about half three we staggered back the hostel, giggling crazily and me wondering whether the combination of beer, caipirinas and a caprifruta which was not as benign as the caprisun it sounds like, being as it involved rum and what i think was condensed milk, would make me puke later on… (Only a tiny bit, is the answer to that).

Today, I have been mostly nursing my hangover. In the afternoon, looking but perhaps not feeling too fresh, we headed over to the Museum of Contemporary Art. The weather was crap, so the beaches were out. Plus, I´d seen a picture of the crazy-looking museum before we left and really wanted to visit it. Designed by Oscar Neimeyer, it looks exactly like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise (thanks for my education there Dad), and is located in a perfect position on the oposite bay to the rest of Rio. From there were breathtaking views of Sugarloaf and Christ. It took us nearly 2 hours to get there, on a combo of buses and boats (we are, like, so brill at doing foreign public transport now). And well… the museum was a fabulous building and the views were ace, but inside the exhibition was a load of pants. Maybe I just don´t understand art, but it was all about light and colour and consisted of various boring abstract paintings of, well, colours. There was a cool-sounding colour experimentation section where you could have a go, but in reality it consisted of things like putting blue gels on top of yellow ones to see what colour you would end up with. Yawn…

We´re back at the hostel now, and I´m quite glad that it´s quiet. I plan to stay up as late as I am able and then crash out – probably this will happen in about 20 minutes.

Tomorrow we leave Brazil behind. I´m sad, because there is so so much more to see here. We could have spent the whole trip in this weird, wild and endlessly fascinating, endlessly different country. But I am also totally psyched to go to Bolivia. Where in just 3 and a half short weeks we´ll get our first visitors from home. Yay to Kate and Jon!

More when we can speak Spanish, pay just 2 pounds a night for accommodation and leave behind glitz and glamour for a while.

xoxo