Plan C

PARATY, BRAZIL - 20th February 2010

Planning ahead has rarely played much of a role in any of my travels so far, but it seems any possibility of this changing with Anna's arrival on the scene can be safely put to one side. Indeed, our botched departure from Rio and eventual arrival here in Paraty was an organisational maelstrom of almost vintage proportions.

Things began back at Rita's house in Rio where, aftr several days of taking advantage of free board in one of the world's coolest cities (not to mention occupying the only air conditioned room and being chauffeured all over town by car), we were thinking we should really move on and hunkered down to some proper planning (armed, as standard, with the trusty LPGs).

The provisional scheme we had been toying with since a few weeks back (and by "we", I mean "Anna", and by "had been toying with", I mean "suggested") involved heading to the colonial hotspot of Ouro Prêto, a few hours north of Rio, before somehow heading to Brazil's western edge and the tropical wetlands of the Pantanal. However, it had been somewhat assumed that at some stage in or anound Rio, Anna - a massive surfer chick, apparently - would have had her desire to rid some waves satisfied. This assumption was slammed to pieces on the discovery that trying to rent a surfboard anywhere in this part of Brazil was going to go about as well for you as rocking up uninvited to the Augusta National for a cheeky round. Absolutely no chance.

Thus, "Plan A" soon evolved into "Plan B", which involved heading in the opposite direction out of Rio; down the coast to the supposedly lush scenic beauty of Ilha Grande (with more beaches providing more, if still extremely unlikely, potential opportunities for surfing), before continuing further down the coast to Paraty - combining the colonial history of Ouro Prêto with a seaside location that had the added advantage of being further west (and thus closer to our Pantanal goal).

Plan B was signed off by yours truly on Wednesday evening before I joined the Canadian lads (Rita's friend's boyfriend and the latter's brother, last seen up on Corcavado with Cristo Redentor) for a match at the Maracana - local Rio rivals Flamengo and Botafogo goign head-to-head in the semi-finals of the Brazilian Cup. The jist was that Anna sorted out the nitty gritty details of buses, hostels, etc., while I did manly things like drink beer and get far to emotionally involved with the tens of thousands of fellow fans in the Flamengo end, wondering how the hell they'd managed to lose a match in which they'd taken the lead and Botafogo had had only one decent change the whole game. Botafogo's 2-1 win came courtesy of a freak second goal, as well as thanks to Flamengo's inabilty to steer any one of 5 near misses around 6 inches closer to goal. Considering the non-stop noise and general intensity of the supporting masses, I thought they took the loss pretty well.

Getting a taxi home was a job and half but was eventually managed - the same, however, could not be said for "Plan B", which was lying in metaphorical tatters as I returned home. The combination of a total lack of hostels in Ilha Grande, various bus issues between there and Paraty, and the option of heading straight to Paraty being equally stymied for one reason or another, all meant we were forced to overstay our welcome by an extra day and night!

Rita was up early to work on Thursday, while Anna and I eventually made it out into town for a walk around the landmark of the Centro district - the Catedral Metropolitana standing out both for its novel exterior architecture and its awe-inspiring interior ambiance. Heading up to the quiet, arty, hilltop neighbourhood of Santa Teresa was a must, but with the queue for the tram-train that runs up the hill resembling People's Sunday at Wimbledon, we decided to man up and walk. An awesome staircase full of art and colour greets you at the beginning of the climb (its name, Escadaria Selarón, I just discovered finding the image, right) but soon gives way to a more regular street ascending at an impressively steep gradient. Good exercise all round, and soon we were looking down on Rio, and Anna was falling in love with more streets, graffiti, buildings and Rio life. My camera chose an unfortunate moment to run out of battery, but as photos from it aren't getting uploaded any time soon no one's missing out on much.

We stumbled across "Sobrenatural" and it was the venue for an excellent dinner - local fish that was delicious in its own right, but cooked to perfection with fantastic seasoning to boot. Washed down with some ice cold Brahma beer, and we were in fine fettle for our final night in Rio and, of course, finalising Plan C - namely heading straight to Paraty and sacking off Ilha Grande. A couple of gremlins reared their head - we were forced to spend our first night here in a rather expensive place as normal hostels had only single dorm beds left - but come lunchtime yesterday we were in Rio's massive rodovíaria, having said our goodbyes to Rita's family with heartfelt gratitude, and were all set for the 4 hour bus journey to pastures new.