Day 45: Ubatuba to Paraty

I woke to the sound of waves crashing on the sand. We had arrived into Ubatuba in the pitch black, and the first time I saw it was at the first light of day and it was stunning. And so unexpected! Ubatuba had not been part of the original itinerary. And here we were, overlooking this paradise beach, mere metres from our balcony, watching as the waves broke along the coast that stretched out either side of us, at sunrise. With that vision in my minds eye and the soothing sounds outside my window, I happily went back to sleep to get up at a more reasonable hour...

When we did arise a few hours later, our mission was to find some breakfast and sit on the beach. It was the mission for the whole day really! Just to chill out on the beach and enjoy the sun, sea and sand. We didn't do a whole lot apart from eat, drink and go for a stroll and the occasional dip in the choppy sea. To be honest, there wasn't a whole lot else to do here! It is a surf town, so pretty much everyone here, was here to surf - as demonstated by the steady stream of cyclists with surfboards under their arms going up and down the coast. After two days in a busy, built-up metropolis this was a beautiful contrast.

But we had to keep going. If we wanted to see the places we'd planned to, we needed to get to Paraty that day. Kindly, the hostel organised a transfer to the bus station that afternoon. So after a shower, a quick bite to eat (in a restaurant that serves a buffet that's charged by weight) we were on our way again.

As I got my things together, Lynn got chatting to the owner. She told him how she found the place and he was keen to know what was written about them in lonely planet. With excitement, she told him. Later then, en route to the bus station, while chatting, I asked him where he was from and before he could respond Lynn burst out, "you're from Malta!" as if answering the winning question on a game show! We all burst out laughing! Her enthusiasm literally uncontainable. Now in a panic, Lynn tried to explain that that's what the Lonely Planet had said! When he finally got the chance to answer for himself, he said he'd lived in Malta, yes... but he was not from there... It was probably another one of those "you had to be there things" but watching Lynn trying to back track to try explain she wasn't a stalker, was very amusing...

We got our bus bound for Paraty at 5:00pm and we arrived at 6:30pm - this time, as expected. This looked a lot more like what we'd expected - lots of restaurants, shops and just general life about the place! Ubatuba was a ghost town by comparison.

Straight off the bus we went hunting for an ATM. We saw a sign for a tourist office, and thought that would be a logical place to ask where we could find one. We went into the tourist office which seemed to also be an internet cafe. Lynn, went in first and in her lovely, gentle way asked politely if the lady at the desk spoke English. Barely looking up from the Candy Crush game she was playing in full sight, the woman barked "No!". What kind of tourist office was this? Lynn, taken aback by the rough retort, stepped aside, so I tried, "Espanol?!", which she replied this time not breaking focus on her computer screen, a little. We managed to squeeze out of the old witch that it was in the supermarket nearby. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?! What a warm welcome to Paraty! I suppose you get it everywhere... But really, people like that deserve a kick up the hole.

Anyway, we picked up a few bits and hopped in a taxi to Leo's Clan Hostel and made ourselves comfortable in our lovely little room. We had some snacks and chatted to some of the fellow hostelers in the kitchen and then headed into town to listen to Samba.

Situated across the little canal that splits this picturesque historic, colonial town, in the main square in front of a tall church, a group of people had gathered in a circle around a band of lively musicians. And off the square were a number of food stalls and most importantly, Caipirinha vendors. Very excited, I looked down the long list of options. When we were in Sao Paulo, the Brazilian girls we made friends with advised us that the best cachaca is from Paraty and is called Gabriela. I made it clear that I wanted this is my Caipi, whatever I chose. The Caipi Man recommended a cocktail called Jorge de Amado. After a lot of cutting, chopping and mixing he served me an enormous drink made with passionfruit and ginger and all manner of tasty things and then handed me another smaller plastic cup for the rest! Good value, I tell ya..

We moved towards the music then. In the inner circle now we could see some dancers in front of the musicians. And they had seriously fast feet. They were barefoot and sweating and had the most sensational rhythm. It was so infectious. Especially as we'd acquired our Caipis! We were standing enjoying the music when I felt hands on my waist - I turned around. It was Nat and Kat, the girls for my G-Adventure tour! Reunited with the gang, we hung out in the gorgeous night air, catching up with the last week apart. A few more enormous Caipis were enjoyed before trying to navigate our way home overly the massively uneven cobbled ground. No mean feat.

Accommodation: Leo's Clan Hostel
Weather: Hot on beach - Lynn got really burnt!