Ilha Grande

In Paraty, T sent an email to one of her friends, Helen, who, apparently, was still in Brazil. Brazil is quite a big place (5th largest country in the world), so we were quite surprised to find out that she was 36 miles away from us on Ilha Grande. Of course, 36 miles means a two hour bus trip and a one hour boat trip - but 36 miles is pretty damned close.

After much email back and forward-age, we arrived on the quay to be met by Helen and a local chap who calls himself William Wallace (who knows, it might be his name). William made himself very popular by carrying T's bags up the hill (big, big hill). We then played dice and drank beer whilst the girls chatted 10 to the dozen.

William told us that he worked for the army as a protector of dignitaries and that he had lived in London and that he used to be a tour guide in the Pantanal and some other things too. A quick google search on "william wallace" "ilha grande" comes up with some other stories he has told. He appears to be a local character.

After a chilly night, we got up to go to the beach. It was worth it.

Say hello, Wave goodbye

After a day at the beach, a few caipirinhas are in order, before catching the boat back to town and flashing the boat.

Caipirinhas ahoy

As we decided to stay a third night and the island has no ATM and T wanted a bit of peace and quiet; I was dispatched to the town to get some cash. Whilst I was there I saw a church parade. It was quite interesting, but not worth a 3 hour round trip in itself.

Helen's House

At some point during the stay, the wind blew down the mirror in the bathroom and smashed it. That's 7 years bad luck for the wind then. I repaired it with sellotape.

Helen's ipod had been nicked in Rio, so we bought some blank CDs and I spent a happy couple of hours burning some new music for her, so as to give her something to listen to.

On the threshold

Helen finally got her peace and quiet back as we headed back to Rio. We got the quick trip back, which was much appreciated. We were dropped off where we liked but the hotel we chose wasn't up to scratch, so we checked into another (which turned out to be the main gay hotel, situated as it was on the cruising street - as I found out from the guide book later). T has been warned not to make any new gay best friends and, after Neto and Ben in Paraty, I thought this might have been a deliberate ploy, she swears it was completely accidental.