There must be treasure buried around here! Just look! There are so many sheltered coves and bays with wide open white sand beaches all over the place! You could hide Blackbeard, the Black Pearl and a whole fleet of pirate galleons here and nobody would ever be the wiser!

When Spain and Portugal plundered these South American shores in the 15th and 16th centuries, English pirates were waiting offshore ready to take the plunder themselves, or in the name of Queen Elizabeth I when times became desperate. Before times got very tough for the delicately positioned English monarch, pirates were the highwaymen of the seas. Rape, pillage and plunder was the name of the game! It was a very Darwinian world where the fittest (or the most ruthless and/or brutal) survived to plunder another day. It was very much a dog eat dog, or rather pirate despatch pirate, world on the high seas!

But the gold from its colonies allowed Spain to finance its expansionist plans and it started marching across Europe, instituted its Catholic Inquisition, provoked religious discrimination and ignited a long running series of wars that, arguably continued until the 19th century. With so much wealth at hand, and grand visions, much of Western Europe quickly capitulated (For the South Africans who still speak Afrikaans, you might be interested to know that meubels - or furniture - is actually a Spanish world that has migrated through time from Spanish to Dutch to Afrikaans). England was the next target for the Spanish.

But English sanctioned pirates on the high seas started to make considerable gains against the fat and bloated galleons that tried to make their way across the Atlantic to the motherland. Probably the most famous, and arguably the richest fleet were destroyed by English raiders in the Caribbean. The San José galleon was the flagship of the Terra Firma fleet of twelve fully laden supply vessels and its treasure trove is legend amongst treasure seekers, salvagers and shipwreck hunters. The treasure is reputed to be valued at billions in gold, silver, jewels and precious stones!

This was the time of Sir Francis Drake and the complete and utter destruction of the Spanish Armada at his fleet's canons. England is saved by the sea again! How ironic that history would repeat itself again four centuries later!

But standing on the beach at the very picturesque and charming town of Paraty (actually pronounced pa-ra-chie), the quaint period architecture, colourfully painted doors and trimmings and cobbled streets speak of another time. A time when this town, and Rio de Janeiro, were the east coast's ports of despatch for the gold that came pouring out of the green jungle clad mountains that surround these two places now. So much gold came out of these hills, that the trail that was followed was called "the Gold Trail".

What a tempting target for pirates, thieves and robbers. So much so, that a whole series of forts and military outposts were built from the remote mountain mines all the way down and onto the islands that dot the bay that lead out to the ocean to protect the "flesh of the gods" and the lifeblood of the nation. Subjects, slaves and colonists be damned!

Not only was this a very historic town, but it was also now a very Brazilian town. Here the people ooze sultry, sensual and sassy sexuality and with the way that they walk down the street and sip their coffees, you can hear the samba beats and feel the music. The Earth seems to hold a very deep down fundamental beat that is in tune with your own. This is real soul music and the longer you stay, the more it affects you! You too could adopt the Brazilian swagger and hip roll that speaks far more than a few words on a travel blog! The very air seems infused with the irresistible beat of a music far beyond the reach of the human ear, but well within range of the human soul that appreciates a little bit sultry, sensual sass!

But the air at this time of the year is filled with afternoon thunderclouds that grip the sky ferociously and climb ever higher into a humid hot air of the tropics. As darkness descends, and the static electricity is final released into an expectant sky, blinding electric blue-white flashes that light up the entire world and expose every nook and cranny for split second inspection.

As the heat of the day builds over a tropic sea, and the blue sky starts to becomes lighter and lighter, the top of the thunderclouds are a innocent snowy white, while the is a deep and ominous grey bottom hovers above a landscape shuddering, waiting for the heralding the nightly arrival of rain, rain and rain. Thunderous rain; warm thunderous rain. After Peru and Bolivia's Andean high altitude and cold rain, this T-shirt and short wearing rain was a pleasure!

After weeks of being bundled up under layers and layers of warm clothes, we promised ourselves that we would spend the last days now of our epic trip on a beach somewhere and Paraty did not disappoint. Want to do a dive? No. Want to do a jungle tour? Done that, thanks. Come on a boat trip and experience remote tropic beached islands for the day? Thank you very much, but there is a beach calling our names and we HAVE to answer THAT call!

The cool overcast days were actually a blessing, otherwise the tropic sun would have burnt us to a cinder. The days were the sun did shine, it blazed away and we hide in the shade and water the locals frolicking in the water happily ignoring the perils of the sun. Did they not know the dangers of cancer?

Unlike some of the other backpackers that we met, the Brits spent a day on a boat floating over crystal clear sea in the tropic sun without a care in the world. The poor b*****s (i.e. silly b******s!) went deep pink and suffered the effects of sunstroke. With skin colour like their's, why bother with that sort of thinking!

With great food in our bellies, tanned and taut bodies under our shirts and backpacks crammed full of dirty washing, we walked unhappily for bus station for the last bus trip heading for our last South American beach!