Day 13. Pirate bays and Desert Cities. Woke up early feeling quite strange in the bed and cabin I found myself in, in a place called Bahia Inglesa, so named because of the English pirates who hung out there. Weird because the night before, I thought I had come across some beach holiday paradise. I was excited and already working out how we could stay there an extra night. In retrospect, it was dark when we arrived and the rest of the family didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. In the morning I realised we had stumbled across a less-cheerful version of Butlins. Rows of chalets with paper thin walls so you can hear everything the neighbours say, wash and eat. The chalet had a feeling of neglect and of a hundred different families passing through
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