After leaving the club sometime after 4am, stopping for McDonald’s and getting to bed around 6am on our last night of Carnival, we got up at 8am to try and catch a bus to Buzios with our Contiki tour manager’s next group. Fortunately, there was room for us on the bus, and we made the 3 hour journey north of Rio to escape the chaos that is Carnival, most of which I slept for. Buzios is a small town of approximately 20,000, and is well known vacation destination for Rio’s upperclass. The tiny town is surrounded by some of Brazil’s most beautiful beaches, alsomaking it a hot spot for cruise ships, and other tourists.
After being dropped off outside of Contiki’s hotel, we stood on the side of the road waiting for a taxi or a bus to take us to our pousada (inn in Portuguese), which was located a few minutes outside of town, near the beach of Geriba. A bus (which was really a van with 3 rows of seats in the back) with the words “Geriba” in big block letters pulled up and we got in, fairly uncertain about what we were getting ourselves into. A lovely woman in the front seat spoke a bit of English, and proceeded to take my phone from me to tell the driver where we needed to get off. He pulled up at our stop, grunted and pointed in the direction of our pousada, and then sent us on our way. We headed unknowingly in the direction that he pointed, and after walking for a few minutes we were relieved to come across our hotel. I guess sometimes you just have to trust that people are leading you in the right direction, and that things will work out in the end.
After hunting down some food, we settled in for the night, both sleeping for well over 12 hours. The following day, we headed down to Geriba beach, about 600 meters from where we were staying. The beach is a beautiful expanse of sand, with small hills on either side lined with houses. It became clear quite quickly that we were way out of our league, and probably some of the poorest people on the beach. Nevertheless, we had a lovely day soaking in the sun and relaxing, taking the occasional dip in the freezing cold water. In the late afternoon, storm clouds rolled in and we made a dash back to the hotel, getting only a little bit wet. That evening we took another bus, or communal van, into the heart of Buzios, wearing rain jackets for the first time in weeks. The rain was a refreshing break from the unrelenting heat in Rio, and it was still warm enough to eat on a covered patio jacket free. After enjoying a way too expensive meal (trend in Brazil), we wandered the small town for a little while, admiring the excessive night clubs, similar to Ibiza in Spain, and the expensive tourist shops. It wasn’t long before we had our fill of Buzios, and we headed back to our quiet street in Geriba.
The following day we had a lazy morning and then headed once again to the beach, wasting away the day reading and relaxing in the sun. As it turns out, I quite enjoy the lifestyle of the rich and famous! That afternoon it rained once again and we were forced inside for the last few hours of sunlight. That evening we decided to eat in Geriba since it was more affordable, and after dinner we had another early night. Both Ryan and I were slowly beginning to feel like we had caught up on sleep, but both of us were getting colds. Although colds are never ideal, I prefer getting them in the winter when I can drink hot tea and curl up in a blanket, using the cold as an excuse for taking too many baths and not leaving the house; there’s nothing worse than not being able to breath when it’s excessively hot out.
Early Saturday morning we said goodbye to the sweet older gentleman who owned the pousada and made our way to the bus station, where we were herded onto a bus with all of the other hundreds of people wishing to return to Rio. We were delayed over an hour getting into Rio due to bad traffic, and were greeted by pouring rain. Rio is definitely not as scenic when it is pouring rain, especially when you get caught in it. After a fairly tasty shared chicken meal (with rice, fries, beans, and salad – this is turning out to be our typical dinner here), we headed back to our hostel in Santa Teresa, getting caught in an absolute downpour that soaked our shoes and shorts – thank goodness for waterproof jackets!
After arranging our 4:30am taxi, we headed to bed early. I swear I could have killed my alarm when it went off at 4am, and I instantly cursed the fact that we always purchase the cheapest flights, which are always ridiculously early in the morning. Nevertheless, it could be worse – we were off to Itacare, another coastal town in Brazil, just south of Salvador. A few minutes past 4:30, it appeared that our taxi wasn’t coming, so Ryan headed out on the street, yelling and flailing his arms until a cab pulled over to get us to the airport. Our flight from Rio to Brasilia arrived an hour early (not sure how this happened), and after searching the domestic departures high and low for something eatable, we determined that we would have to leave the secure zone to find some food. In the end, the best we could find was McDonald’s, and I was left feeling perplexed by the crappy food options in Brazil. I think this opinion may be largely due to my gluten intolerance, as I’m finding Brazil an incredibly difficult place to find anything decent to eat outside of whole chicken’s and acai. The innards of an Egg McMuffin did the trick though, and we were left to kill a few hours in the busstling, noisy Brasilia airport before catching our connecting flight to Ilheus.
Although the flight to Ilheus was a short 1.5 hour flight, it was nothing short of interesting. The plane was an MK28, that may have been one of the first planes ever flown. It was extremely old and made quite a few alarming noises. On top of that, the flight was turbulent, and we seemed to be making drastic drops in altidude, as my cold ridden ears were going nuts. I am 200% sure I would have let out ear piercing screams had I been an infant. After circling the airport twice, we finally made our descent and my ears were happy to be on the ground. Unfortunately our adventure didn’t end there. We hopped in a cab that took us to the Ilheus bus station, purchased a ticket for a bus to Itacare, and then sat down to wait for the bus. It came on time, and after being herded on the bus once again, we were on our way. Most of the buses we’ve taken in South America have been really nice; air conditioning, toilets, nice seats. This one was no more than a step up from a public bus. Don’t get me wrong, I have no issues with public transit, except when the person beside me changes her baby’s diaper and then proceeds to breastfeed (breastfeeding in public is common down here, but diaper changing is a new one for me). I was not sure if I should feel more impressed or disgusted that this young mother managed to change her baby’s diaper without getting baby poop all over herself or the seat. Either way, my bus snack would have to wait for later. As we made the 1.5 hour bus ride to Itacare, it became clear that the locals use this bus as a public bus, and I reached a near tipping point when about 20 people in bathing suits got on yelling and screaming and singing. This was one of those travel moments where I had to remind myself why I was there. Arriving in Itacare was extremely relieving, and both Ryan and I were beyond happy to be off the bus. As it turns out, the hostel we booked is a little bit less than what we expected, so we headed out in search of a caiprinha. We found a great spot with a wicked drink and one of the best meal I’ve had in weeks. Cheers to a good few days in Itacare!