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Published: March 4th 2008
Florianopolis (1); Planet of Women.
Spooky but it wasn´t me. I found these words on the banks of Lagoa.Thursday 15th March to
"The beaches are beautiful and the girls are even better. The best in Brazil". If I had a pound for each and every time I had heard someone say that in the last six weeks or so I wouldn't find myself in my current unenviable position of penny watching as I am and as it lay one third of the way to my intended destination of Uruguay twelve hours to the south of Sao Paolo I thought that that is where I would head.
An announcement over the tannoy at Congohas Airport solely in Portugese re; my flight spellt trouble, especially as boarding time was imminent but fortunately the delay was a minor irritant, just one and a half hours and I arrived in Florianopolis in heavy rainfall as darkness fell. During the delay I had chatted briefly to bearded European looking guy with deep set eyes a la Bjorn Borg who had told me that he was Jonas from Stockholm, that he was on a month's vaation and that, much like myself he had not the foggiest idea what to expect in Floripa. The delay had pissed me off and looking back I was
Florianopolis (1); Planet of Women.
Joachina Beach welcomed us with a beauty pageant. probably a bit short with poor Jonas almost to the point of being rude but as we waited for our bags to appear on the carousel a kindly Brazillian pointed us in the right direction and told us to head for Lagoa Conceicao, a town situated on the banks of the islands large Lagoon and followed by a description that would have seen another quid in my pocket.
Jonas and I shared a cab and were dropped in the centre of Lagoa. After ten minutes of aimless wandering looking for the slightest sign of a bed for hire we asked in a gas station and were pointed in the direction of the nearest accommodation and another ten minutes later found ourselves unpacking in the large windowless bedroom of the first Poussada we found open.
Jonas and I got along famously from the off. A 34 year old dog loving carpenter with a snuff habit which forever saw him inserting and removing tiny tea bag like parcels from under his stained top lip we wandered into town and found no sign whatsoever of the promises and tales regarding women. just a bar with plastic chairs and tables facing onto
the main street with a clientelle consisting almost entirely of rowdy young men.
When I woke Jonas was still sleeping so I ventured outside for my first glimpse of Floripa by daylight. Across the busy main road outside the Poussada the Lagoon stretched as far as the eye could see, backed by green rolling hills. Wonderful.
We'd talked the previous evening of hiring a car one day to explore the island and as I turned to return to the Poussada noticed right next door was a motorcycle rental shop. I enetered, still rubbing sleep from my eyes and was greeted by the girl in there with the biggest smile imaginable. I sat to discuss terms and within half an hour it felt as though we had swapped life stories and when I finally left it was with a sense of shock and surprise at my actions. I had a date.
Stella is a 36 year old Sao Paolistan mother of two who had two months earlier packed up and left her home town to start up a branch of her motorcycle rental business in Floripa. Despite the inevitable maturity brought on by raising a family, in the
Florianopolis (1); Planet of Women.
Above the river that connects the ocean to the Lagoon in Barra Da Lagoa. most part single handedly it was clear she was an interesting and fun loving girl with a huge passion for music.
Jonas and I rented a mountain bike each off Christiano, the Poussada owner, and headed to the nearest beach four kilometres away at Joaquina, a two mile stretch of white sand buffetted by a roaring surf and deserted for all but the first two hundred metres. As we locked our bikes we noticed an enclosed construction and were surmising as to it's purpose when the show began. Joaquina was staging it's very own beauty pageant, being screened live to TV's across Brazil and we were invited.
At one end of the long raised catwalk sat a table of judges, shaded and with pencils poised whilst at the other were two Bedouin style tents which soon started spewing out Barbie like cloned beauties all dressed identically in tiny torquoise bikini's. We had to wonder if the girls were stacked on shelves as one by one they emerged, teeth gleaming plastic smiles, like rabbits from a magician's hat. We ordered a juice and watched the show.
In Sao Paolo, other than the game of soccer my fitness had
suffered. With no where to run and with the hotel gym charging good money for entry that could be put to better use elsewhere I had entered a perioid of self imposed inactivity so it was time to act. I suggested to Jonas mid afternoon a run along the beach but after just a mile or so was forced by ankles still smarting from the soccer to lie in the sand whilst Jonas continued. It occured to me that I may be getting old.
My deliberations over whether I was going on a date or if Jonas would be accompanying us were answered when Stella informed us she would pick us both up at 9:30. She took us out of Lagoa to a secluded bar on the hill out of touch for Gringos where we spent a nice night being serenaded by two guitarists whose stage bizarelly was perched precariously on top of the bar.
For two months whilst house hunting Stella had lived with Gabriella (Bibi) in a Poussada in the nearby town of Barra da Lagoa and she persuaded us it was the perfect place for us and the following afternoon, with Floripa covered in rain
clouds she took us there. The place was run by three women, big Chris, a hippy/biker chick of forty two who owned the place but spoke next to no English, little Chris, a beautiful twenty six year old surfer obsessed with her own beauty and Maria, the toothless old assistant. It was perfect, just fifty metres from the beach with a wood dominated lounge with hammocks, bean bags and sofa's opening onto the pooled garden with large L shaped sofa'd Pergoda.
Jonas and I returned from the beach on a cloudy Sunday afternoon to a crowd gathered around the pool and at second glance noticed they were all wearing motorcycle leathers emblazoned with their club colours, 'Mutantes'. The local hells angel chapter were encamped in Barra Da Lagoa......... In our home.
The route through the garden had to be carefully planned to ensure nobodies toes, jackets or helmets were stood on, easy when eye contact avoidment was all important and we retired to the relative safety of the Pergoda sofa to observe. After ten minutes or so it was obvious that hells angels was perhaps too strong a name, these huge men (and women) lathough mean in appearance
Florianopolis (1); Planet of Women.
There are friends everywhere on the beach. were bundles of laughter and fun and any lingering doubts disappeared completely when the biggest of the bunch approached Jonas and I and offered us a piece of still warm chocolate cake that he had just removed from the oven.
By this time Stella had joined us having dropped Bibi at a birthday party next door. Gabriella is the cutest little girl imaginable. Olive skin, bright blue eyes and blonde hair falling to her shoulders in the tightest tiniest ringlets and a sqweeky voice that repeated her mothers words in almost perfect English.
After four months of constant moving on it was nice to feel settled and in an environment of total relaxation. People who live in Floripa seem to have no stress in their lives at all and for Jonas and I it was a welcome case of 'if you can't beat them join them'. My master plan on Leaving Sao Paolo had been to spend a week here then another week in Brazil en route to Uruguay but I now decided having consulted travel costs and my dwindling bank account details on the internet that the more sensible option would be to stay here a while.
Florianopolis (1); Planet of Women.
Roasted cheese with herbs, a delicious mid afternoon snack. It seemed unlikely that my proposed return date of 3rd May would be achieved.
I took a walk on the beach with Stella on Monday evening, a walk terminated by the first drops of water which immediately changed to tropical monsoon that meant running was a futile excercise and after she had returned home I went in search of food. I noticed a figure that looked like Jonas sitting by a tent on the wider part of the beach and when I approached realised that it was. He was with an Aussie and two Norwegian girls and was plastered and when we returned home about 2am I began to see that he is a very unhappy guy. He told me he had been seeing a therapist for the past eighteen months and for the next two hours I took over that role for him.
Stella had woken one morning having had a dream where white sand met torquoise waters with the word Florianopolis floating on the water. Having never been before she hastily called a friend and arranged a visit, took it as a sign from above that this was where her future lay and upped sticks and
relocated just a month later. She had just moved into her new rented home, a wonderful 4 bed 3 storey timber place with a huge verandha and all for £ 300 a month. I told her one evening I was feeling slightly guilty with myself for quickly setlling into holiday mode in Floripa and with it quickly losing the desire and energy to keep moving and exploring. She answered in her typically optimistic yet realistic way by saying my guillt was a result of relying on my head as opposed to my heart and that was the way I should go and having thought about it I had to agree with her. After four months my body and mind felt as though it needed a rest. And that is what it was going to have.
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Ahhh...the perils of the honey trap! Falling in love Matthew?