We'd been told the boat-trip to Morro Do Sao Paolo could be a bit rough, so I wore my 'bracelets', and popped a couple of travel-sick pills, I was 'out of it' so quick, I could have been on a rocket to the moon, for all I knew! Sal wasn't impressed, though, having a zombie for company during the 3-hour crossing. Well, at least I wasn't puking!
The transfer to our hotel on the island concluded with a pleasant walk through the town, with it's sandy streets, and a porter pushing our bags in a wheel-barrow. Something that'd later come back to haunt us!
Our hotel was right on the beach, and though it's currently 'off-season' here, there was plenty of comings and goings to keep us amused while we lay on the sand; a coconut cart pulled by a donkey, a man selling 'hot cheese' (I don't know if he'd fried it, or stolen it!), and loads of beach-hawkers who didn't speak any English, but still tried their luck with us, there was never a dull moment! I even managed to get bitten by a fish when paddling in the sea, the little get! The food on the beach was great, too. Not quite up there with the now-legendary 'Baja shrimp tacos', but not far off. The 'dip fried maniac balls' were a particular highlight!
No-one at the hotel spoke English, either, which transformed our arrangements for checking out and onward-transfer, from 'slightly complicated' to 'incredibly difficult, verging on impossible'! In an effort to ensure our departure went smoothly, we started to arrange our check-out just after we checked-in, telling both of the receptionists we were due to leave very early on our departure day. We also got the travel agent to call them and explain the situation, and we spoke to reception the day before we were due to check out to make sure it was all ok, 'you realise we're checking out very early tomorrow morning?'
'Yeeees, no breakfastee early, sorreee'
'..ok, no problem, but we need to be at the harbour, for 8am to catch the boat..'
'yeees, 8 o'clockee'
'...will the jeep be ok for that time, and will there be someone to take our bags down to the harbour?'
'yeees, no problemee!'
All sorted? Like b*****ee! Next morning, after we'd sat around for half an hour waiting for the jeep, they told us it was 'breakfastee time for jeepee', like we'd only just decided to leave, and we'd have to 'walkee to harbour' Along the beach. With our bags in a wheel-barrow. A 20 minute walk. The boat was due to leave in 15 minutes. It's a good job our stay on the island had been relaxingly idyllic, because I was trotting along the beach, sweating like Andy Coulson, swearing, and generally NOT HAPPY. At least I didn't have to push the wheel-barrow. I made Sal do it! Only joking, one of the guys from the hotel did it, and we tipped him very well. We got to the boat, with minutes to spare, sweating, shoes soaked with sea-water, and coated with sand, and started our long journey to Buzios. We can laugh about it now, just!