We slept surprisingly well on the overnight bus as the seats recline to a 'bed' at about 30 degrees. We were picked up and driven to the port for the catamaran to Tinhare island down the coast. It left 30 minutes late, took an hour longer than scheduled and was noisy and hot as it was a sunny day, but the crossing was smooth. When we finally docked there were boys waiting with wheelbarrows, with TAXI written on the side waiting to take our luggage thru the pedestrian-only streets of the main town, Morro de Sao Paulo, to where a jeep waited to take people around the island to further beach hotels, such as ours. Our boy turned out to be 13, not the first time we have found young boys working but we did not have a chance to ask him whether he was just working in school holidays.
The barrow is wheeled about half a mile up and down steep slopes and along dirt roads and precariously past an area on the main 'road'where the sand road is being dug up. The jeep jolts another mile or so over a potholed dirt road to our pousada which is on a coconut plantation and turns out to be an annexe to the main hotel which is 5 minutes walk back along a cobbled road or, more fun, along the beach which is even more fun at high tide as it means clambering up rocks, or thru mangrove branches or hoiking up the shorts and bag and making a run for it between the waves. We were quite secluded in our place so made the trip a few times for a couple of meals and to use the swimming pool. High season is yet to start so we seemed to have the place largely to ourselves.
We were prebooked on a sailing trip around the island to visit some beaches, a floating bar in a shallow bank for swimming, some local sights and a beach were local fishermen grill freshly caught lobster for lunch for £7. However when we tried to confirm we were told it was full and put off to the day after. Instead we spent the day relaxing on the beach in a small sheltered alcove under a sea-grape tree cooled by strong sea breezes. As if by magic at lunch time a small boy appeared at the narrow entrance to our den to offer us freshly prepared tropical fruit salad for lunch for £3. Late afternoon we ventured into the sea and then to the pool to swim, both like getting into a warm bath.
That night it rained. I slept thru the thunder and lightening, but it woke Martin still suffering from his 2 caipirinhas the night before and as there is no standard for the amount of sugar cane alcohol added, the second was three times as strong and we had fun walking home in the dark.
Altho the rain had stopped the sailing trip was cancelled, the receptionist slammed the company for unreliability, they bumped us off Sundays trip knowing they already had our fare paid. Instead we paid for a 4wheel drive tour with a brazilian couple thru the interior of the island which was an eye-opener. Away from the main tourist town we bounced along sandy tracks which intertwine across a shrubby plain which flood in the full winter rains. The driver picks the best track he can find amongst pot holes filled with water after the storm, which splashed thru the open windows as we drove thru them, but dry quickly in the heat leaving sand which brushes off.
None of them speak English but the other tourist 'translates' occasionally for us in slow clear portuguese. When the driver leaves us at a restaurant on a secluded beach, deserted in low seaon and tells us we can wade to the floating bar on the horizon the other tourist tells us to order lunch and charters a boat to get to the floating bar for £4 each. It must be a kilometre and not shallow til u get to the bar on the sandbank. We swam, watched bright fish in clear water and locals decapitating small octopi caught on the coral reef and returned for our local lobster lunch. At £26 more than promised on the sailing trip, we expected to share one lobster but were given 5 with rice, beans, manioc flour and salsa. All delicious. After visiting another deserted beach resort we drove home. The local villages are of small brick dwellings, often brightly painted cheek by jowl with large landowners houses with a private plane parked out back rather than a car. Monday was washday in the rivers or outdoor sinks. Barefoot kids in the streets and satellite dishes.
The next day in the rain another youth wheeled our cases in his barrow back to the port. Hard physical work for £4 a case for a bright witty older teenager who has picked up a few words of English and has smiling aspirations for a better future in the tourist trade.