After six weeks of living in a city as beautiful as
Rio de Janeiro, where the sky is consistently blue, the temperature rarely
drops below 30-degrees, and the glistening, blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean
lap lazily over the white, sandy beaches, I could be forgiven for thinking that
I was in paradise. However, this weekend, I was amazed and delighted to
discover that I was wrong.
A three-hour bus journey South of Rio, lies the
enchanting Ilha Grande (Big Island). Its uninspiring name could not contrast
more starkly with the delights found there: lagoons, wildlife, beaches, waterfalls
and a dense jungle of spectacular diversity. I set off on Thursday morning for
a long weekend away with three amigos from university, after managing to
negotiate a couple of days off work. The journey, though wrought with suspense
(we feared the last boat to the island might set sail without us), was
thoroughly pleasant and we arrived in beaming sunshine and good spirits.
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| the approach to abraão |
Delighted to be out of the city for a few days, Caz,
Chaz, Bonge and Maz disembarked in the small town of Abraão on Thursday
afternoon. Towering coconut trees lined the cobbled streets, free of vehicles,
but thronging with restaurants and tourist shops. I’m told that tourists only
started coming to the island about twenty years ago, and although you certainly
feel the travelling atmosphere, something about the place still feels a little
undiscovered.
Settling back into the hostel lifestyle was ever so
easy. Grab a beer, sit on a hammock and get chatting to whomever you see. As it
turned out, this Brazilian island seemed to be entirely made up of Argentines
and Israelis. Now, my Hebrew really isn’t up to much, so I fell back on my
Spanish, which has become rusty over time, but still just about comprehensible.
Thoroughly chuffed at our arriving successfully, the first evening revolved
around caipirinhas and partying on the streets to a live, local duo. Even
better was that the rain, promised by numerous websites and devices, did not
come.
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| (from left to right) Chaz, Caz, Maz and Bonge |
Up early the following morning, despite mind and body
fervently protesting, we set off to Lopes Mendes beach at the South of the
island. Acknowledged by the Guardian as one of Brazil’s top ten beaches, it had
a lot to live up to, but the 3km stretch of deserted beach and clear water did
not disappoint. I wholeheartedly agree that Ipanema beach in Rio is a beautiful
sight, but seeing Lopes Mendes, devoid of buildings, cars, street sellers and
other punters, showed me just what I’d been missing. The jungle backdrop alone
was enough to make my jaw to drop.
But before enjoying this stunning beach, we had to
negotiate a two and a half hour trek through the trees, up and down steep hills
in 37-degree heat. It was worth it though, just to arrive at the beach with a
feeling of accomplishment. I deserved this. However, I perhaps didn’t deserve what
happened next, although I’ll let you be the judge of that, as it was entirely
my fault. Firstly, my new, sparkling white speedos had apparently befuddled me
earlier in the day. Somehow, I had them on inside out. It was all fun and games
until I discovered that they had become slightly see-through. However, I defy
you to find anyone better at reversing speedos whilst being buffeted by
churning Atlantic waves.
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| carefree tanning |
The second misfortune to befall me was again entirely
my own fault: desperate to cover myself in sun cream, I reached into my bag and
hurriedly sprayed what turned out to be insect repellent all over my face. Two
hours of sweating profusely, two different brands of sun cream and two hefty
sprays of the jungle formula were brought together on my face with the force of
a chemical reaction. For a few minutes I was moaning, cowering beneath the
shade of trees and draped in a damp towel. I definitely deserved a lie down.
Throughout the weekend, we made use of the taxis the
island had to offer. Boat taxis. You pay to get from A to B and for a free
speedboat ride. Not a bad deal if you ask me. Saturday was spent on a boat,
exploring various beaches and lagoons that the island has to offer. Tanning
nicely in the morning was followed up by some snorkelling and kayaking, either
side of a beachside barbecue and topped off in the evening with throwing
ourselves off the side of the boat. I was having a fantastic time.
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| sun, sea and speedos |
Even the eventual, monumental thunderstorm couldn’t
dampen our spirits. But in true British style, we sat on the deck of the boat,
getting pelted by water and having a laugh. The other passengers informed us
that we had perfectly lived up to their stereotypes: Brits on holiday will stay
outside no matter what. Add my burnt thighs, chest and back to that and you
have the definition of a Brit abroad. The Brazilians must have thought we were
crazy…
Returning to Rio was fairly uneventful, but it felt nice
to be returning home. It may not be the paradise island of Ilha Grande, but you
won’t hear me complaining. Trekking to the beach gives you a sense of
accomplishment, but it is far more convenient when it’s on your doorstep. A
lazy, beach island is lovely place for a weekend, but you just can’t beat Rio.
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| Atop 'dois irmãos', with Ipanema and Lagoa in the background |
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