Mosquito nets and other mosquito related topics

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Well, to put it mildly I did not have a good night. It was, of course, suffocatingly hot and I changed my mind several times about whether to have the window open or closed. There is a mosquito net over my bed - very reminiscent of early 20th Century novels about the Tropics. My host, whose English was normally quite clear, suddenly became a bit evasive when asked if there were many mosquitoes around. Possibly, but there could be a lot more, seemed to be the answer. Anyway, I don't know how standard mosquito nets work but this one you are supposed to pull out and over the sides of the bed from a sort of cylinder in the centre of the bed. This means that unless you are absolutely in the centre you are constantly getting entangled with the net, particularly if you a) have broken finger nails that you haven't had time to cut or can't find the nail scissors you brought with you and b) you are wearing a sleep-mask which stays on your head by means of Velcro. The net may have had a few holes in it before, it's certainly got a lot more now. Trying to switch the bedside light on is also problematic, especially if you have moved to the opposite end of the bed to get as near as possible to the fan. What with all this to contend with and the obligatory dogs barking all through the night I did not do well.

Nevertheless, since we are only about 5 minutes walk from the beach I determined to attempt my first swim in Brazil. Spent ages fiddling around with the armband contraption which is supposed to enable me to carry valuables with me into the water - in this case my glasses and the house keys - without them either floating off or getting wet. On the way to the beach I noticed that the path ran besides a nasty-smelling stagnant channel of water. Nasty smells are one of the distinctive things I will remember about Brazil . Hmm - will come back a different way, I thought, suddenly remembering about dengue and Vika. Took my beach coverall off, put the armband on with difficulty - it would only take my glasses -and hid the house keys and the rest of my belongings as best I could in a supermarket plastic bag - the approved method of not getting them stolen in Brazil. The beach was almost deserted but there were a couple of men swimming. Had already decided that I was going to get burnt if I stayed in the water for any length of time although it was only 9.a.m - but as I took my first steps into the water I looked down with horror - the water was a sort of murky brown colour and far too warm. Suddenly realised that I had gone right off the idea of swimming and went back to the house.

Breakfast turned out to be self-service or help yourself. I managed the bowl of muesli and banana all right but after several burnt fingers gave up the attempt to light a gas hob with a cigarette lighter in order to boil a kettle for coffee. Set off a little while later for the historic centre of Paraty. When I checked that I was taking the right route with a passing cyclist he informed me that it was a long way away. He wasn't wrong! The sun was already beating down and by the time I had covered the so-called 15 minutes walk I was soaked in sweat.

Parati or Paraty was briefly very important around the end of the 17th century because it was the route by which the gold mined in Minas Gerais, around Ouro Preto, in fact, was transported to Rio de Janeiro. At that time there was no other route through the mountains. It has an unspoilt historic centre with cobbled streets closed to traffic and its original colonial buildings are largely well-preserved. It is not however unspoilt in the sense of retaining any life outside tourism. Almost all the buildings are cafes, restaurants, and shops selling art-work/ jewellry or tourist trinkets, whichever you like to call them. Apparently lots of arty folk have made it their home so it's a bit hippy but also has some very upmarket restaurants,which I shall not be patronising, that cater to a well-heeled crowd. In fact at 10 a.m. there weren 't a lot of people around - it was already too hot - so I looked at the churches and the one museum, and had a wander.

I dithered about whether to go on a guided tour the following day, found the bus station and asked about local buses to apparently one of the loveliest beaches in this part of Brazil. To be precise there is one long stretch, or four of them, that vie for this description. Was miffed to find that I only had to ask for a Portuguese word or sentence to be repeated and whoever I was speaking to switched immediately to English. This place is not going to be good for my Portuguese. Also dithered about where to eat as I really didn't fancy another kilo place. Was almost back at the house when I noticed a sign up at a supermarket offering roast chicken. I ordered this and was told it was normally for taking back to the house - the cafe at the front was for drinks only - but the very nice woman owner agreed to let me eat mine there. I was a little surprised when a few minutes later her husband presented me with what must have been the whole of a large chicken cut into chunks. Ate a few pieces there - it was very good - and ended up taking the rest back to put in the fridge. Hoped that Alfredo would help me with the left-overs.

Retired to my room, took off almost all my clothes, put the fan on maximum and lay down on the bed to phone/ write but not under the mosquito net. Big mistake. Within a couple of hours discovered that I had too many mosquito bites to count. Am quite sure got them either on the way to and from the aborted swim or more likely in the bedroom. Later that evening I also developed the heat rash which I had for the first time in Colombia last year - it's caused by walking too much in very hot weather. What with this weeping rash, my mosquito bites and a cut which won't heal, acquired on the treacherous excursion to the waterfalls in Lençois, my legs are not a pretty sight.

Aggravated the heat rash by re-tracing my steps of the morning. Decided to do the boat trip on the grounds that when I arrived at the first ever so beatiful beach in Trinidade I would not be able to walk to the next three because of the heat and the strength of the sun. Ate in a per kilo place after all - so-so and went to a puppet show in the tiny local theatre where they are the resident company. This was not as daft as it sounds - the company has performed pieces for adults without words all over the world and has been reviewed in newspapers such as the New York Times. They - the two puppeteers did a series of vignettes. Two stayed in the mind - one of an elderly couple flirting with each other and another called Concepção, (Conception) of a woman masturbating! There wasn't a man in sight so I wondered about the title but she gradually shifted from masturbating to giving birth. The puppeteers wore black and although the lighting was focused only on the puppets you could see them shifting the puppets' limbs around This didn't seem to matter though. Not sure whether this was just very clever manipulation of the puppets or art as well - clearly the NYT thought the latter .

If there had been a taxi around I would have got one back to the house, both because I was very tired and also because the road was badly lit. In fact I set off, returned and set off again when I realised that there were a few other people going the same way. I attached myself to a mother and daughter who were walking on their own, almost to my house, and the three of us got back fine. The daughter also took advantage of the opportunity to practise her English!

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