Day 49: Rio de Janeiro

Moving onto our last destination of this trip, we packed our bags once more and set off for Rio de Janeiro. We made our way back across the beach, and at the port we boarded our boat back to Angra dos Reis. The skies were clear and it was a hot day, but as we sped back to the mainland we were cooled. Getting to the bus station from the port in Angra dos Reis though was considerably less comfortable. With the sun beating down in full force, every step with those heavy bags seemed to reverberate through my entire body. A sweaty mess, we arrived at the station. And after a short wait we were on our way to Rio.

Two hours later we were arriving into Rio and for the first time on this trip I doubted my security. Out the window of the bus, long lines of run down buildings scrawled top to bottom with graffiti, windows either broken or boarded up. It wasn't a pretty sight to arrive into.

Off the bus, once again our "I'M A TOURIST" sign must have been flashing, as a random backpacker approached us asking, "Are you backpackers?" and if we could share a taxi, which we did.

We arrived at our accommodation and got settled in. A beautiful, newly decorated private room with an en suite and balcony greeted us. It was gorgeous! Perfect way to finish off the trip.

Keen to go exploring, we asked reception where best to go for a wander - safety being paramount. It was now dark and we were told not to go anywhere with any jewellery or bags... this was pretty off putting it has to be said. Is it really that dangerous? We made our way tentatively towards Ipanema beach and walked a short distance, before turning back (en route stopping for tapioca pancakes and churros from a street vendor). Back in the hostel they were planning a Mexican night, and as everyone in our teeny hostel seemed so sound, we settled on that for the night. But we had some time to kill... Caipi time! We popped into a bar, which turned out to be a bar/clothes boutique (I ended up buying a skirt and top for R$80 - excellent marketing technique...)

Things were kicking off in the hostel about 9.30, so, Lynn and I found a seat in the cosy dining area. A fellow Irish man, introduced himself as Paddy (of course), sat down beside us and asked where we were from to which Lynn responded, "eh, IRLANDA? Eh..." attempting a question in Portuguese and then thinking better of it and deciding instead to follow on with a loud and slow: "AND... WHERE? . ARE . YOU . FROM?!"

The answer:

"...Belfast."

How she hadn't picked up on his nationality given his name and strong northern Irish accent, I'll never know - maybe she was in her own world, but it was pretty funny!

Paddy (Irishman) went on to tell us, well, virtually nothing about his life, but I managed to squeeze out of him (despite his cagey, evasive nature) that he had spent time living in Colombia and Mexico (I asked if he was a drug mule - he didn't deny it... jus' sayin') and eventually he conceded that he'd featured in some tele novelas. Now, for all the thin cover stories I have heard for being a drug smuggler, I thought this was pretty creative! Anyway, his dry distant nature thinly veiled what Lynn and I concluded was a lost and lonely soul, travelling for no good reason then getting itchy feet every few years. "What are you running away from?" I jokingly (not jokingly) asked.

We had our fill of Mexican food and turned in after a long day travelling.

Accommodation: Mojito Hostel

Weather: boiling hot in Ihla Grande! Skin about to pop off! Gorgeous, balmy evening in Rio.