Buzios

We arrived in Buzios without much of a clue as to where we would be going. People were asking the bus driver to stop here, there and everywhere - we just sat on the bus waiting to be told that we had to get off.

After getting off, after being told to, we stood round waiting for a taxi; the one we got would have been a bit shabby in Bolivia - never mind what is billed as an upmarket resort for the rich and famous. Nevertheless it fulfilled the dual taxi functions of knowing where we wanted to go and getting us there in one piece.

Pousada Hibiscus Bungalow is just by a nice beach (Joao Fernandez) and is a bit of a walk into town. This suits us just fine. Our room is a tad closer to nature than we might like, but it's no Tortugal - where geckos used to pop their heads out of the thatch in the ceiling to see who was staying for the night.

We wandered into town and sat down at a shop overlooking the harbour and ordered our first ciaparinhas of the trip. They were nice, but astoundingly alcoholic. We then decided to ask for a fish, as there was a barbecue lit beside us. We were brought four fish to look at, one was recommended - we chose it. Much faffage ensued as the barbecue was re-kindled and the fish, salad and chips were prepared. It was a most amusing sight. Sated - we returned to the pousada with the aid of a rickety collectivo (to be honest, that's a bit tautological) to sleep the sleep of the just. Again.

Saturday morning and the sun shone. The view is lovely.

View - lovely

We did some admin and then set off, with our washing, into town. After dropping the washing off, we went in search of a way to our next destination.


Washing - tick

It looks like we need to go from Buzios to Cabo Frio to Campos to Vitoria. It will be an adventure

After meeting the oldest woman in Buzios (apart from her mother, who is 99), we toddled off for lunch, eventually settling for the Bar do Ze. We shared a ceviche to start and then, to the accompaniment of a Torrontes (from the vineyard in Mendoza that we had stayed in last year) and Gotan project (French/Argentine tango band we had just been to see in London a few days before departing on our travels) we had a lovely steak (me) and Red Snapper with Banana (T). Fantastico.

We walked back to the pousada for a swim and a brief siesta prior to setting off back into town to collect our clean washing (one of life of the road's little pleasures). We stopped for a drink at a chill-out bar and then headed home as everything seemed to be packing up for the night.

Deciding that walking all that way was a bit thirst-inducing, we decided to stop at a bar beside a square for a drop of refreshment. Where we bumped into Alan, a chap we had been chatting to whilst swimming earlier that day. He convinced us to go and see a Samba band practising in the main square a bit later. We had pizza and went to see the band.


Drummage

This was now 11 pm and there were people of all ages (including a couple of cute toddlers that stole the show) both watching and taking part. It was fantastic. The power of the drumming at that close a distance was quite astounding.

With our ear drums still ringing, we wandered back to bed, saying goodbye to Alan who was off in search of a party. We slept soundly once more.