One week in

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Part 1 - Ubachuvas. Sunday 6 September - Thursday 10 September

I think I’m having my first real OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING???? Moment. Let’s go to the beach, I said, lets have some quiet time in a small town between the craziness of Sao Paulo and the craziness of Rio. I had forgotten that I had vowed to make it easy for myself in the beginning, stick to the gringo trail. I hadn’t considered that the national holiday this weekend would mean the hostel would be full of young Brazilian party animals (think “spring break - woohoo“) and that being a small town would generally mean less travellers and tourists would come out here. (It is in the guide book though - hardly virgin territory).

The day started fine - I checked out of the SP hostel no problem, braved the rain to the metro station, and waited in line at Tiete bus station for my coach to a little seaside resort called Ubatuba, supposed to be the most beautiful coastline of Sao Paulo state. Though I was a little grumpy that the receptionist in Sao Paulo had said: Ha! Ubatuba? We call it Ubachuvas because it rains all the time! Thanks. (Chuvas means wet). The bus was half an hour late, but I was practising hard my speech for the bus driver that I copied off my new hostel’s website: Por favor, eu kero fica no ponto de omnibus do Mercado Lazaro (please can I get off the bus at Lazaro supermarket). This I duly said, and I received a ‘Sem’ (yes) in reply. Good good, I thought. I must be getting be at this. Fast forward four hours, and the bus is approaching Ubatuba. Ooh I think that looks like Mercardo Lazaro. Oh, we’ve gone past Mercado Lazaro…..and we’re still going…. Bugger. He’d forgotten. No matter, I thought, how big can this town be? The best thing to do now is stay on until the bus station, where it’ll be easier to get a cab back. I hadn’t the guts to take a bus! However the bus kept on going and going for another half an hour! And it looked like we were coming out the other side of the town. By now I was really starting to panic.

Eventually we pulled into the bus station and lo and behold - taxis! It hadn’t even occurred to me to try and find a local bus, because I didn’t know where in the town I was, which way I was pointing, where I was going, nothing. The taxi took me to the hostel, no problem, but it cost me nearly £20 because it was a Sunday. Ouch.

Then at the hostel, the first receptionista spoke no English. He fetched one that did, I checked in, and she took me up to my room (I had the last bed in the hostel), where I met Kari. Faala Ingles? Said Jessica the receptionist. Nao…. Came the reply. Jessica shrugged at me and left. Great. Here I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, miles out of town, for 4 nights with no-one who spoke English. And it was raining. Nothing to do on a beach if it’s raining. Deep breaths. It’s fine….if it’s nice tomorrow I can go and sit on the beach, if not I can sit in the hostel, and if I just spend three days reading and sleeping and learning Portuguese, I’ll only feel better for it and refreshed and ready for Rio.

So I went to the shop to by some water and some noodles for tea, and settled down to writing this blog and feeling a little sorry for myself.

Cue knock at the door. One of the young Brazilian guys was (I think) looking for his friend. He said blablablablabblabla, I said sorry, I don’t speak Portuguese, and he left.

Where was I? oh yes, feeling sorry for myself. I got as far as expressing as much in my facebook status.

Another knock at the door. Same guy. He introduced himself - his name was Lucas I think (I really am appalling at remembering names). We got chatting through the use of my phrasebook, then he told me to come downstairs to meet his friends.

In the end I had the loveliest evening! There was a whole group of them, between 21 and 27 ish, young professionals (chemists, teachers, engineers) down from Sao Paulo and the nearby cities to spend the weekend at the beach. We drank some beer, danced to some Brazilian pop by the hotel pool, they taught me some Portuguese, they taught me some English, I got chatted up by a Japonese- Brazilian who’s nickname is Kako - kermit the frog. Aww…. He didn’t look like a frog….. But they were so lovely and so generous, and even the ones who didn’t speak much English, would whisper to their friend who did: How do I say: ’how long are you staying here?’ In English???

The next morning, thank goodness, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, I could see the mountains all around. I met my new friends at breakfast and asked what they were doing that day. Going to the beach, they said. You stay with us! Ok then! So I was honoured to spend the day as an honorary Brazilian, drinking beer on Praia Lazaro, 5 mins walk from the hostel, singing and dancing along to Kako playing the guitar, swimming in the sea (I can verify that the Atlantic is not much warmer from the other side), eating crepes on sticks (You may well wonder…. It was gone too quick to take photo to show you. Next time I promise) and generally having a good time…..

That evening everyone had to leave to drive back to their real lives and jobs, and suddenly the hostel was nearly empty.

Turns out that Ubatuba during the week is about as happening as Eastbourne on a wet Tuesday in March.

Hmm - what do I do for the next two days? Kari, my room mate, was staying one more night. Come watch a film, she said..it’s filmed in Ubatuba. ok why not? Sounds like fun. It was called The Tourists.

Top tip - don’t watch this film if you’re about to go backpacking. The long and the short of it is that a group of Americans and Australians get kidnapped after their bus crashes, by an evil man who for some reason wants to harvest their organs while they’re still alive. I think it’s some kind of revenge against transplant tourism. Yay…..

Over an impromptu barbeque late that night (mmm- meat. I needed that after crepe-on-stick was all I ate for lunch) I talked to the hostel’s tour guide about if he would do a trip the next day. As it happened, he had to take a swiss couple to the colonial town of Paraty, and the tour of the movie film sets was on the way. If there’s any way to make the nightmares stop, this may be it.

I think my pictures tell a better story than I could: first stop was the line showing the tropic of Capricorn, somewhere I’ve wanted to go ever since I knew what star signs were. The line is right in the middle of a skate park near the centre of town.

Next - Cahoeira Prumirim, a waterfall where they filmed this movie. It’s more stunning in the sunshine, but it was still very impressive (in the film they jump off the top. No way. Too dangerous). I was the only one daring enough to swim, but I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. It was just amazing - no chlorine, no salty water, not even leeches. And surprisingly warm. I think I’d swim a lot more if I could swim in a pool at the bottom of a waterfall everyday…

There’s a rock shelf behind the cascade where you can sit - it just feels rather like you’re drowning trying to get to it!

Then, two beaches also in the film. Again, not so impressive without sunshine, and looking at the mountains through the cloud….but still very beautiful

Then - this old watermill that used to be worked by slaves, now looked after by this guy called Za Pedro, descendent of said slaves. It was nice, and there was a nice little walk through the Atlantic forest to see the river that feeds the mill, but we were more distracted by the CUTEST little puppy who lives there, and followed us around….

The atlantic forest is amazing. It’s just green, By which I mean there’s pretty much no bare rocks, no bare tree trunks anywhere. Every inch of space is covered by something green. If you stay still long enough, you start growing moss and tendrils wind round your ankles.

Then Paraty! I’m glad I only went for the day and didn’t stay there - it’s full of old Portuguese colonial architecture, some cannons and such, lots of gift shops, and water not clean enough to swim in. A couple of hours wandering around was enough, but I also got in my first meat-rice-beans combo meal (do you really need to put chips with it too?) that arrives on two enormous platters for each person. I wish I’d used my Portuguese for doggie bag (para lavar por favor!)

I can’t quite understand why it’s such a draw for tourists - other than it’s just more set up for it than Ubatuba (by way of offices running tours and organising water sports, gift shops etc)

Driving back after dark, there was an amazing thunderstorm (raio e drovão). Lightning here is no mere white flash, oh no. The sky turns pink, and the lightning discharges as a huge fork (my first lightning fork, I think!). So tired I lay down for a quick nap and didn’t wake up till nearly midnight! Sorry Nil! Nil was going to make me Caipirinhas…..

Woke up Wednesday morning. Mozzie bite count: 15. Fifteen!!!! I don’t think I really took our short trek through the Atlantic forest seriously enough. One whole day to amuse myself…. The only map I could get at the hostel only showed the local beaches, so I took to google maps for some idea of how to get to them . It looked like there was a road up this little mountain pensinsula where I thought I could get a good view. When I got there, it wasn’t clear which track was this proper road. I took a guess, and ended up on this coastal path to some little coves round the peninsula. Very cute, very quiet. I ended up on Praia Flamenguinho, gave myself a Portuguese lesson, took some photos and headed home, where I saw this great sign by the path (see photos….) and my first hummingbird! Just casually sipping at some flowers down by the marina. Sorry no photo - they don’t really hang around. After a bodged lunch of instant noodles and instant meat and vegetable sauce at the hostel (did the lady who worked there really have to stare over my shoulder going ‘interesante…….’ all the time?) and some research, and uploading these photos, I heard there was another beach nearby I had to see - praia Sununga (crying beach) It has this cave that’s constantly dripping) I took photos - they’ll be in the next batch! That evening, a few more people had turned up, so we went and bought a bottle of cachaca and some sugar (the sugar was more expensive than the alcohol) and mixed up some Caprinhas, ordered pizza (not sure about the Brazilian excuse for pizza. Stick to the meat, guys) and headed to a little bar where some of the guys who worked in the hostel were singing round a guitar and drinking beer.

They started a few English songs and I went ‘yeah I know this one: There is, a house, in New Orleans, they caaaall the riiising sun, erm, la laaahh, la laaah, la laaah laaah……’ etc. Turns out I know very few songs all the way through. Not even the Jason Moraz thingy that’s really big here. I can just about manage the chorus, then only laahhh my way through the rest.

The Brazilians thought this was very funny. You know Nirvana? Yeah, it goes ‘laa laah la laaah laaa……’

Around 3am we left them to it - I had to be up at 7 to pack and catch my bus to Rio….rer…..

Part 2 - language

A few top tips for successfully communicating with Brazilians.

Don’t say ‘cool’ - cool means arsehole

Don’t make the international diving sign for OK - this also means arsehole….

But if someone says ‘Oi!’ to you….that just means hi….. Brazilians take note, don’t say that in England….

You can put ‘inho’ on the end of any word as a diminuative.

But

You can also put ‘ão’ on the end of a word to make it BIG. Praião = Biiiiig beach. Prainho = little beach

Etc. Have got a lot of mileage out of that. Lapeetoppinho! sanduichão!

Quiz of the week - there’s a postcard in it for the first person to correctly translate ‘fliperama’. Previous travellers to Brazil need not apply.

Next instalment: Rio. Buildings growing out of the hills competing with the trees and, is that a mars bar in your pocket? I discover Forró and how the Brazilians dance....