Country # 14......Brasil!!!

The last of the 14 countries it will have taken us to complete the full circumnavigation is the 5th largest in the world, and one hell of a sexy spot. Like the Dutch are deservedly associated with clogs and bicycles, and the ´suave´ Irish with Guinness and fiscal mayhem the Brazilians do tanned asses in thongs, football and samba like no one else. With 1% of the population owning 50% of the land mass (which is the size of the USA excluding Alaska) its no wonder that you get a distinct feeling that the best things in life are free and to be enjoyed openly.

Crossing the border was easier than expected, and we made it to Foz do Iguazu by lunchtime on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The main bus terminal is a fair bit out of the town itself but we needed to get there asap to make sure to get tickets for a night bus to Florianapolis. So we spent about 6 hours in limbo in the station eating drinking and messing about until the appointed hour arrived..and no bus showed up. 2 hours later we were on our way. This was to be the final bus journey. After a good 20 hours of human stink, constant stopping and starting, raucous families and other passengers getting on and off and causing mayhem at all hours, random customs inspections and by now hugely swollen feet and cramped legs from lack of movement we were decidedly finished with long haul bus journeys.

From the centre of Florianapolis it took another 2 hours to get about 30kms out onto the island to Barro do Lagoa and the beach we were by now ready to roll around on, bags still strapped to our backs. The hostel we had booked turned out to be a winner, even if the friendly kiwi who runs the place informed us that there were no ATMs within walking distance and we had to get another bloody bus to get cash. That first day in Barro was a bit of a nightmare. Having finally got there absolutely shattered, we had to bus it back in towards the city, go to a number of banks before finding one that took our cards, all the while peering out the steamy windows at beautifully inviting beaches. By the time we had sorted ourselves out we took a walk along the cliff tops to an alleged swimming hole. All we found was a treacherous series of rocks and some mentalists braving the rip currents.

That night we had grilled sole in a restaurant down by the beach front, our appetites having been stoked by the sight of returning fishermen unloading their weighty cargo on a dock in the centre of the village.

Barra Beach Club turned out to be a fantastic little place. We shared a log cabin perched atop stilts and with a balcony overlooking the sweeping bay with a few Aussies and a British family. The balcony had a few hammocks that got a fair bit of usage in the evenings as I sat sipping mate (Argentinian green tea) and reading while the sun set.

Next morning having eventually navigated our way through the quagmire that is booking domestic flights in Brazil we bought a few bags of fresh fruit and some cold beers and finally hit the beach that had been calling out to us for the previous 24 hours!! Hours later and suitably satisfied with ourselves we spent the evening with our house mates over a few drinks on the balcony. A frenetic, crazed yet infinitely hospitable German lady has an idyllic restaurant just down the lane way from the hostel, and we visited her in the hope of partaking in some more fresh fish. The balcony has an unrestricted view of an impossibly gorgeous cove and we sat whiling away the time it took her to clatter and bang together a meal for us taking in the balmy sea breeze over a bottle of wine. She emerged triumphantly with a platter of roasted vermelho and we tucked in.

Then another glorious day on the beach, more fresh fruit, a few lime juices from the stall boys that wheel their shops along the sea front..jumping in and out of the surf like excited puppies..ahahahahhh. Yes.

The flight to Rio the next morning, via Sao Paolo, was a misty eyed daydream compared to the previous couple of journeys. Banking over the sea and into Rio on a clear day has to be a pilot´s pleasure. The tarmac of Santos Dumont juts dramatically out into the water as the iconic Cristo Redentor oversees the countless jets whizzing around its ears like flies. Catching a glimpse of the iconic statue as it emerged from the clouds just before we landed was something I will never forget.