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Published: June 16th 2012
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Paraty is a 17th century colonial town. A pretty mix of narrow cobblestoned streets, white washed buildings with brightly coloured frames and very high kerbs to stop the shops flooding at high tide. We have a little wander around with the group and end up spending an extortionate 24 Real (abut 10 pounds) on a brown bread and salami sandwich i could have made better myself.
Brazil is SO expensive or maybe its just where we are taken...but i find myself wistfully thinking about the tuna nicoise wraps from Pret that don´t break the bank. After a little walk with the group i head off myself to try and find the beach Alfresco has mentioned.
I have no idea whether i get to the right place - Jaquarabi - as its empty apart from a family of Italians. But it suits me. The shoreline is covered in white sand and shingle. The water is warm and milky and stays shallow for ages so i wade far out up to my waist. The beach is surrounded by hills, dark green and wooly and shrouded in mist. Scottish Jenny from the group has already said it reminds her of the highlands.
A lone guy walks his three dogs along the beach, one is running behind with a coconut shells in his mouth.
Sometimes its nice to get away from the group. I get out my notebook to write until it starts to rain and it gets too wet, then i go sit at a beachfront bar by myself and drink a 600 ml Brahma. The beer in Brazil comes in massive bottles and ice cold. Somehow the weather means it tastes good even though its probably on a par with Fosters.
Later I try and catch up with home in one of the internet cafes. I had made a decision to limit the amount of time i am on Facebook while i´m away but this has proved to be impossible. I cannot use my phone so it is the only way i have of both staying in touch with friends back home but also meeting and making plans with the friends i meet while i travel.
In one sitting i see my very first boyfriend has sent me a friend request, that my ex has a new girlfriend and some weird flirtation going on between two of my
friends. I hate facebook.
I try and find the group but have lost them. I wander into a store selling hair care products. Kerastase for 60 pounds. Ok this is not the way to budget. I need to save money after almost bankrupting myself after lunch and decide to try the street food. A man is cooking up meat on a stick- chicken on a stick, sausage on a stick, beef on a stick. I sit down on a plastic chair next to him with a beer and a stray dog at my feet and try all three. Its the best meal i´ve had so far and it costs about three quid.
The next day the group do a boat trip around Paraty that makes a couple of stops at beaches for sunbathing, snorkelling and swimming in the beautiful deep green water. The harbour is crammed with a dolly mixture of tour boats painted pink, mauve and purple - as if Barbie herself is about to captain them.
We are fed and Alfresco makes sure the free Caprinihias are regularly topped up. At the end of the trip the boat moors and Alfresco has somehow managed to
fashion a cauldron of Caprinihia from an old drum. a bucket of ice, several litres of pure alchol and a lime tree.
A few of us remain and the crew (no doubt delighted and convinced by Alfresco that we just need a bit of lubrication and are all theirs) come up to join us. The boat men have incredible deep brown washboard stomachs. Alfresco lifts up one of their shirts:
"ehhhh ´ów you like some chocolate tablet eh?" he grins...
Unfortunately for all concerned none of the girls remaining want to get drunk. A row breaks out between Sarah and Alfresco, she is upset because he is calling us boring. In his book Chief Experience Officer means running some kind of club 18-30 party where all we do is down neat alcholol and get wasted. He has misjudged this group entirely. When the crew realise that the English are not about to "put out"... we are kicked off.
We go for a meal in town and then sit in the main square for a drink. Here, a homeless man comes up to shake my hand and then leans in for a nuzzle. This is the first
Boat Party on Paraty
Out of the 12 of us 8 of us have quit our job to travel
Ladies. WE ROCK. but not the last time i will be molested by a hobo on my travels.
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