The Basuros and beaches of Brazil

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Our jaunt to the highlands after leaving Rio was short lived. After deciding we were both too stuffed and bus weary to figure a side trip to nearby Petropolis, we headed back to Rio in heavy traffic on a morning bus, connecting with incredible efficiency and genuine service, to the surf capital, Saquarema. Evidently this place heaves at carnival time and hosts surf carnivals and competitions of international standards. And testament to this, the long stretches of white sand extended from Jacone, our first coastal glimpse on the bus, to Saquarema about 30 more minutes away.

Deciding 15 Reals was a rip off for our midday hike to the hostel, we made the walk there in little time, hot 33C and bothered but with the choice of 3 rooms of different prices. This was despite being told they were booked out, had not booked our 6 month advance reservation in, and had seemingly overlooked a confirmation request we had sent by snail mail as follow-up to a phone call. Odd things aside, the location at Canto da Vila could not be better, although you needed to exercise caution at the beach (getting in and out of it was the worst part!) as much as exercising your tanning pose. You need also use imagination at the river/ estuary behind this place which was murky and smelly giving away the ‘we are clean’ tourism message. Given dangerous surf versus potential gastro poisoning I opted for the surf beach, and thankful for my lifesaving skills when surviving the 9 to 10 foot waves I was often faced with. Surfing heaven, dude.

How to occupy 2 days at a beach? HHmmmm, there was swimming, reading, shopping (if tourist tack like knock off Oakley sunglasses is your thing, you might get lucky……or perhaps authentic jewelry like in Ecuador, unlikely), wandering around Nazareth church on the hill, to Itauna beach, and conjuring up a cheap meal at an Italian eatery on the main square (like they all are) from imported salmon steaks with limp lettuce. The fish was uncooked, and then they cheekily charged us service, which we contested! Eating local fish, another unlikely opportunity. Must we wait to Arraial do Cabo we said?

Well we didn’t eat the fish in ‘A-hhaal’ and had a good time snoozing and catching up from hectic Carnaval in Rio. If only someone had told me why the ocean was so brown when they say it is so “pristine and unpolluted”, my visit would be complete. Maybe I’ll have to google that one, along with a using transducer google for my Portugese. Arraial do Cabo is a pretty peninsula at the end of some salt flats and stunning white sand stretches up the coast from surfy Saquarema. Getting there, the day began anticipating a 45km trip by public bus, probably an hour at the most….but this would be most convenient and like many things you notice when travelling to ‘highlights’, convenient bus connections are not great. And so the first stretch took us from Saquarema to Bacaxa, 20 minutes away and frequent buses could be hailed from the central stop in town by the bridge, or a hot and longer walk away to the rodaviaria (which was a collection of unmanned buildings masquerading as a rodoviaria!). Our faltered Portugese occupied another 40 minute wait with locals until the Araruama bus came, connection 2 we had since learnt. That got us there, but realizing we had 3, options, a 90 minute wait, 3.5 hour wait or one of those vans that never seems to leave. We opted out for the 90 minute wait given toilet stops and water (thinking it would beat the minivan option), then deliberated after waiting ages to buy water, and went for option 1.

But the 1.30pm bus never came….it did, actually that is a lie, but 45 minutes late. And so 90 minutes more later we got to Arraial and what a gem we found worth waiting for. Blue water, heaving with people, but not a reservation confirmation at Hotel de Canoa? Hang on, de ja vous? There is something about booking.com and Brazilian pousadas or hotels that do not communicate. Lucky for us the hotel was almost deserted we got to negotiate in Portu-spanglish to have air con and a small kitchenette for 90 Reals twin. This town seemed the best stop so far, and if you can get used to exposed cleavages, saggy bellies, big rears contained in the smallest speedos and bikinis 10 sizes too small for the ‘flaunt it’ crowd, you may indeed be in heaven. Mine was swimming related, of course. Rash shirts look far too serious for the frolic crowd, so I probably stood out like that sore thumb I cut in Saquarema, trying to swim across the polluted estuary on the first morning to the dangerous surf beach that was less brown colour but more dangerous.

Back to Arraial, there was more time relaxing, reading, trip planning, job applying, swimming, and swimming, and wintering out freak storms not only at Praianha but also at the frigidly cold Praia Grande with it’s Atlantic currents. How 2 beaches 2 km away (and us well situated in the middle next to the market and on top of the ‘Jesus Cristo’ centre) could differ in temp, it amazes me, the temp at Praia Grande almost a blueprint of the small rockpool we visited in the highlands of Teresopolis i.e. muito fria!

By the way, the market is Saturday’s only, and had this evangelic man encouraging people to follow the Lord at the front on a microphone, which the whole town could hear, just like in Chivay in Peru or a Turkish mosque in Kas. To more pressing matters, it was mainly selling a good safe travel staple, bananas, closely followed by red pawpaw and big juicy steroid infused avocados….a great place for a ‘see food and eat it diet’.

Next stop, Buzios. That was a fantastic wee spot once we had our wild goose chase with mis-directions from locals to get there, and a good pousada 20 metres from the Amacao beach. Unfortunately we paid Buzios prices for many things, our new addiction to Acai drinks being double of Arraial, and lodging rates at carnival time being 190 Reals for a twin room! But we did look over the beach and had a lovely reception man called Marcos to humour us, and we thought us them! What is it about big packs and small females carrying them? Our one long day free was spent as our other stops, but even of we were freely shuttled to Ferradura beach, when we arrived it was tout heaven and a case of gently refusing sales of tacky jewelry or the tiniest pieces of cloth to keep you modest. Sitting for free on the plastic chairs and admiring the views…that cost nothing. Got ample exercise on the beach swimming in clean water and seeking out a cheap meal under 70 Reals (!!), best found in the main square near the Artesenal markets.

Final day with my companion of a fortnight was spent on 3 buses over 10 hrs to reach Trindade, a lush haven nestled beneath rainforest 40 minutes south of Paraty and bordering Sao Paulo state. We parted at Nova Rio station and moved on in our different directions. Similar in location to Ubatuba, Trindade was an authentic village barely touching the tourist bubble, surrounded by misty hills and rugged surf crashing on the steep beach. Welcome relief to put my groceries for 3 days at the hostel room, I enjoyed 2 days of swimming, waterfall walking led by a Brit of 3 years there, rock hopping, and meeting the most Gringos of all this trip.

Torrential rain persisted over 48 hours that I was there, and I was lucky the 8am service on my leaving day ran in time to connect to the Sao Paulo bus I had pre-booked. A small break in Paraty before the 6 hour journey let me see some of the old town, and before I knew it I had met a friendly Aucklander and arrived in Tiete station of northern Sao Paulo on time. The basic hotel in the suburb of ‘dodgy Republica Central’ was not as it was made out to be, and all I need contend with was usual big city stuff like prostitutes in the supermarket, homelessness, and screaming locals, some with delight and others what could only be assumed to be drunkenness or Brazilian exuberance or surprise at seeing a fair skinned Kiwi carting her house on her back.

I made the most of the location by catching many architectural features with little time before the dark curfew (self-imposed), such as Largo Santa Ifgenia church at service-time, the Sao Bento Basilica, Praca de Republica and surrounds, before missing out on closing time for the Banespa tower (Bank of Brazil) and Mercado Central. There was large dose of Acai had too at one of the many juice bars, this one being a family affair - city prices at 6.50 Reals, but worth it for old time sake. Add a few locals selling their wares, stating I was ‘not a Paulista’ at the mini-market, or opening and closing shops with metal roller doors and that completed my Paulista experience.

The one day sprint to Iguassu meant I only got to see the Brazilian side due to airplane delays, TAM and NOT Aerolineas! Speak no more, I am sure they will come up with the delays if I really want them to......
Foz airport was a 16 Real ride away from the entrance on their side, and afer making friend with the guarda volumes (lockers) I headed off on a 12km bus ride with a touristy voiced maiden announcing our stops as we moved thicker and sultrier into the jungle! And when we arrived, what a spectacular sight to behold. Wet, misty, grandissimo waterfall after waterfall....and this was the lesser dramatic of them so i learnt. Meeting several creatures en route alike to a racoon, and several tourists, some from my direction back near NZ, it was time to leave and partake in some souvenir shopping at reasonable prices. Time was nigh to cross back to Argentina, a breeze and not even needing to complete a form! Then a grand night in a cheap but lush 4 star resort.....I won't want to go to that refugio tomorrow in the Andes.

And so the final installment will be that, and farther west (if not shaken away by another quake) and 6 nights on an island before......home, now is that a 4 letter word I wonder?

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