Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 7 to 10 - Santa Catarina

The rest of our trip was a little less eventful, less exciting and possibly unnecessary, so I will just recount it in one post.

Nov. 11th - The day we had to decide if we should go on with our planned track to Santa Catarina or return to Husband's hometown. Husband was sick by this point but we thought we'd come this far, might as well keep going. The motivation for going to Santa Catarina was to visit the German settlements of Blumenau and maybe Pomerode, famous for retaining their Germanic architecture and even language. We decided to go to Blumenau and check it out. The phone at the pousada wasn't working so we couldn't call for a cab. Instead we waded out in the rain with our bags and waited for a passing bus (this time in the right place) which took us to Morretes. The mood was not the best, what with a lame ass lunch in Curitiba and the long bus ride (total travel time 7 hours). Once in Blumenau we hoped to be inspired with what to do and where to stay, but we weren't. There was a bus to Pomerode at 8pm but we didn't know what to do there either. We picked the Hotel Gloria from the Lonely Planet guide due to its proximity to the center and took a taxi there. The taxi driver told us that it had been raining for four months now, but that he was hopeful that it would stop soon. The hotel was lame, the food dreadful, the rain never-ending and the mood black.

Nov. 12th - Once again we had a decision to make, and once again we thought that turning back would be a shame (though far less optimistically then yesterday). We thought we could take a day trip to Pomerode but the buses were not cooperating. There was excitement as we found out about a cool farm called Hotel Fazenda Mundo Antigo, which has been converted into a hotel, but the roads to it were flooded and impassable. Eventually we did have a stroke of luck - Max Pousada in downtown Pomerode had a room and told us about a metropolitano bus that left from a bus stop just down the road from Hotel Gloria and went straight to Pomerode. Here are some parting shots of Blumenau and of the crazy breakfast which consisted almost entirely of CAKE! While on the bus we saw roads so flooded that kids were swimming in the water (personally, I find this gross and unhygienic, but whatever...)

We thought food in Blumenau was bad, but it seems that over-salted dishes and cake with EVERY MEAL is just a Santa Catarina specialty. Since it was raining we couldn't go to the more interesting historic street where a lot of the original settlement still stands, so we went to the Museuo Pomerode, where a delightful guy gave us a tour in excellent self-taught English. The town began with the Weege industry of fabric dye and in later years, tools. Some of the original buildings were destroyed in a freak refrigerator explosion. The town still used carriages in the 1950s. The name Pomerode comes from a German term for pulling up tree roots, which is something the early settlers had to do a lot of. Unfortunately they were spraying for termites during our tour so I ended up with a mad headache, which Husband had little patience for. Undeterred we next visited the museum of a local sculptor, Teichmann, who used to carve wood (also self taught) and was apparently a bastard (according to his son, who runs the museum). With some time left to kill we didn't know what else to do so after having some hot cocoa and cake (what else???) we just hunkered down for the night. Seems like a lame way to end the trip.

Nov. 13th - A day best described as an endless bus ride. After having the usual cake breakfast (I can't look at cake anymore!!!) we headed for the bus station to catch the 11:15am bus to Curitiba (which was late). Arriving in Curitiba at 3:30pm we thought we'd have some time to eat lunch but there was a bus to Sao Paulo leaving at 4pm and so we decided to take that instead. The country side around Curitiba, which we had missed last time due to traveling in the dark, was both beautiful and sad. Signs of endless logging and a damned river were a real eyesore.

One of the good things about the long bus rides in Brazil are the 30 min stops they take in rest area restaurants, which are often very delicious. At 10pm we were in Sao Paulo, tired and unsteady on our feet (that's ~11 hours of bus ride so far!), and by 11pm we were on the bus to Husband's home town, which took another 5 hours to get us home.

Later - After some more time spent in Brazil we finally returned home. Husband was very sad to have to leave, and I can't say I was too excited myself. Nothing to look forward to but a dreary winter. Overall I thought this trip to Brazil was very nice, because we both got to see some sides of the country we had never seen before. For me, anyway, it was still very much a tourist's perspective though, and I must remember that. The trip back was pretty smooth until we got to the States, at which point all kinds of nonsense ensued: customs wouldn't let Husband through until cleared by the FBI (happens every time), the train ate $14 and still wouldn't give us a ticket, the subway was packed and we had to stand, with our backpacks, for the entire hour it took to get to the bus station, the bus driver popped in "the Incredible Hulk" for everyone to watch but Husbands headphones wouldn't work and mine only played in Portuguese and people complained about the movie being on in the first place so he shut it off entirely and at our next bus stop refused to let people off the bus, which caused a stir. But our kitty was home when we got in, so I guess everything will be ok again some day.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 6 - Morretes, PR

Adventure! Excitement! We certainly got plenty of those things.

It rained in the night, as I suppose it should in a rain forest. The floors in our cabin are moist and the wet stuff from the beach is probably rotting. Also Husband seems to be getting the evil cold I have been incubating. Maria and Nikolas served us breakfast right on the table outside our cabin. Delicious!

The pousada has an hour-long trail on its grounds which we were thinking of undertaking first thing in the morning, but I was so tired that I fell asleep immediately after eating breakfast. So instead, we decided to do a hike off the famous Estrada da Graciosa which Nikolas told us about and which he would normally have accompanied us for but alas not today.

Our plan was to take the 12:15pm bus to Morretes from “just outside the pousada”, have lunch and buy supplies for dinner, take a 1:30pm bus to Sao Joao, walk “about 2km, over a bridge, past the old grill” and find the trail used by local bushwhackers and banana pickers, and return on the 7pm bus. Few things actually went according to this plan.

First we waited for the bus in the wrong place, so naturally it did not come. At some point a young girl appeared out of the forest, gave us an odd look and keeping her distance appeared to wait for a bus as well. Husband asked her if a bus to Morretes is on the way, which she affirmed, and which did in the end come. Except it was a school bus. We asked the bus driver if he would mind giving us a ride, and thus we found ourselves with our little backpacks, and about five children on a bus which after a half a mile in the direction of Morretes did a U-turn and headed into the opposite direction. Oh well.

Some time later the bus stopped to deposit a child on the first intersection we’d come across, and which by a lucky coincidence turned out to be the town of Sao Joao. I tried to capture the entirety of this village (some may say hamlet) in this picture, and I think I’ve pretty much got it all. It consists entirely of three side-by-side stores, all selling the same exact thing – bananas (fresh, dried, broiled etc) and salty deep fried pork skins/lard, as well as a pizza type place that was closed, and a store that sold pieces of wood from the forest (local specialty, looks like driftwood but never rots, used for decoration.) It is, however, situated on the Estrada da Graciosa, an old and beautiful road that winds through the Sera do Mar and is both scenic and historic.

We walked what we thought were 2 km away from Sao Joao. We crossed a bridge and came to an abandoned urine and graffiti colored structure that we guessed to be the grill. At this point we realize that neither of us knew where to go next. There was a kind of muddy spot across the road that could be considered a path (by, perhaps, a wild donkey), so we took it. Slipping and sliding we arrived at a stream a few yards away. A beautiful wild completely untouched and uncrossable stream. The current was strong and the rocks wicked slippery, so after taking a few pictures we decided that this must not be the place and went back to the road.

In the end we tried a number of similar paths, all ending at this same stream. After walking up and down the road for a while and feeling like fools, we decided that we would simply walk along the stream and see if we come across a suitable crossing spot. Now this is not like walking in the woods in Northern United States, where there is always a place to step even off the trail. Here vegetation is so abundant that as soon as you step off the beaten path (such as it is) you are pretty much in the jungle. As a precaution we put on rubber tubing to cover our calves from possible snake attacks, and trudged on through the wilderness. A wilderness a few feet away from the road, but we felt like crazy explorers anyway.

After some time we came to a smaller stream forming a Y with the bigger one, and conceded that we were stuck. As we took a rest and a snack (dried bananas, yum) it began to rain. By the time we made it out of the forest and onto the road it was a complete downpour and we were so soaked that our rain gear was not making any difference. And thus we arrived back in Sao Joao around 3pm and contemplated our options. The one and only bus to Morretes was not till 7pm, a chance of a school bus was remote, we had no food besides bananas and we were completely soaked and therefore cold. So we asked around for anyone who may own a car and offered the man R$20 to drive us to Morretes.

Hungry, wet and cold he dropped us off at the train station where we discovered that all restaurants in town were closed till 7pm. The town itself was weird. It's like a colonial ghost town, still beautiful but creepily empty. We wondered the streets and found a beautiful old cemetery and old train tracks.

For dinner we had what the Brazilians call a pizza, which is indeed circular in shape. We then caught a bus heading towards Antonina, got out in what the bus ticket guy assured us was the place we wanted to be, and wondered in the darkness, towards the pousada (we did of course have a flashlight but what good is that in unfamiliar forest territory?) All in all, an excellent day.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 5 - Morretes, PR

The bus from Sao Paulo to Curitiba (capital of Paraná state) was spacious and included blankets, pillows and snacks, but the six hour ride itself was bumpy at times, which kept waking me up. We arrived in Curitiba just before sunrise and set out to find the office of the Serra Verde Express, the scenic train that goes to Morretes and Paranguá through the Mata Atlantica (Atlantic rainforest) and the Sera do Mar (“mountain range of the sea”). The office and the train station itself turned out to be in the building right across from the bus station. It was, however, locked. There was no sign to indicate the hours of operation but around 6am we saw a man moving around inside turning on some lights. This made us hopeful and so we spent about half an hour thinking that the office would surely be opening soon. We asked a number of different people, passerbys as well as employees of the bus station, when the office would be open and each, speaking with conviction, gave us a different time. One person even went as far as to suggest that the office was closed on Sundays. Bummer. Eventually we went and got some breakfast – hot cocoa and cookies, and looked into buses to Morretes, which take about and hour and half to reach the destination, as opposed to the 3 hours by train. When we returned to the train station a line had formed, and the doors were opened at 7am. While waiting in said line we met two men from England traveling with their Lonely Planet guide. They were planning to take the Litorina, which is the more expensive tourist train that runs only on Sundays at 9:15am, as opposed to the daily tram that departs at 8:15am. We opted for the less expensive tram (R$55 per person) and got some of the last seats available. The Litorina, we heard, had only four seats left as well. It is therefore advisable, I think, to make reservations in advance.

The train ride was definitely an experience. The train shook a lot and emitted a brain damaging screeching noise, which is apparently due to sand being applied to the rails for extra traction. The car, in which we had the last two seats, was filled primarily with students on a field trip. Our senses were suitably dulled by sleepiness, however, allowing Husband and myself to not go mad. In fact the ride was still worth it, I think, for the close up look of the Sera do Mar. When leaving Curitiba it is immediately apparent that not a single mountain is in sight. This is due to Curitiba being on an elevated plateau, and the train is therefore a descent through the mountains. A guide at the front of the car told many interesting stories about the construction of the railroad and the forest itself, none of which was understood by me. What I did glean from Husband’s translations was that the railroad is one of very few in Brazil, built by about 9000 men, half of whom died during construction. As far as the flora, two things are of interest. First are the pinheiros (pine trees), at least that’s what I think they are called, the official trees of Parana (or so I believe anyway). And the second is that the bananas here grow up instead of down, and half pink flowers instead of purple. Pretty cool!

All along the railroad are squatters (it is no longer politically correct to call them favelas). We were asked to please not though food or money at them because it encourages kids to come too close to the moving train, a potential disaster in the making.

The only other stop before Morretes was the station of Marumbi, which is accessible only by train or foot and is the drop off point for hikers and mountain climbers intent on scaling the rock faces in the Parque Estadual Marumbi. We could see a campsite right by the train station, and I am not certain if any other amenities were available.

The train ride ended up taking 4 hours and by the time we rolled into Morretes we were at our wits end. Tired, hungry, disoriented, and entirely unclear about what our plans were, we looked out over the 10+ buildings that were apparent on our ride in and I honestly thought, “What the hell did I get us into?” My only hope was that we might be able to catch a bus out of town back to Curitiba or something.

As we exited the train station I was approached by a woman who asked me, in English, if Husband (who had gone ahead to sit down on a bench) was Frank Muller. "No," I told her, and went to join Husband. As I was telling him about my encounter the woman came back, and began telling me, this time in German, that we needed to go catch a bus that was leaving in 15 minutes and that it was the last bus today etc. Now technically I speak German, but at this point I began to suspect that what with the sleep deprivation and the hunger and the heat, I was beginning to hallucinate. Cautiously I asked the woman if she wasn't perhaps confused and was she looking for someone in particular. It thus transpired that the woman in question was the owner of a pousada outside of Morretes, that she was at the station waiting for an American guest, Frank Muller, whose physical description she did not have. While initially thinking that we looked American she inquired if we were of the Frank Muller party, but after talking to me she had run into some German tourists who were horrified at finding themselves in Morretes and eager to get out of town. She had then assumed that perhaps we were in fact part of the German tourist group (because of our backpacks) and thought she would correct the mistake by telling us how to catch the last bus out of town. I had seemingly substantiated her mistake by both speaking and understanding German.

In the end it was a stroke of luck because now we had a place to stay - the Pousada Cabanas do Curupira, outside of town but fairly close to a bus route and within taxi range. The woman, Maria, instructed us on where to get some food and not to let a taxi driver charge us more than R$15-20, and then she went to search for the still missing Frank Muller.

The restaurant or buffet we ate at, Rota do Sator, was quite packed and we stood out a bit as tourist, what with our backpacks and my pale skin. A woman asked me, in English, were I was from, and after finding out that I lived in the States she told me that her son was American (little 5 year old hiding behind his mom and giving me dirty looks), because he was born there. "Enjoy my country," she said, " I love yours". Weird...

Morretes is famous, among a few other things, for it's local food specialty - barreado. It is a type of meat dish, cooked over gentle heat for many many hours until it turns to essentially meat mush. I absolutely loved it! It reminded me of a similar Russian dish, called stoodin', which unlike barreado is served cold. We had heard so much about the dish that despite being a vegetarian Husband tried and liked it.

Getting two full dishes of food to go (the pousada does not yet have a kitchen, nor is it near any restaurants or shop as it's in the middle of the rainforest) we took a taxi to our new abode. Once there we proceeded to pass out immediately and slept until dinnertime. While reheating the leftovers in the owner’s home we listened to their life story. Maria and Nikolas come from Spain (Maria’s mom was German which is why she speaks it fluently), where they left 15 years ago to retire and raise children “their way”. They came here and started a farm, which they then lost, along with everything they owned. Since then they have built this pousada and are hopeful that it will be successful. In case any of you are interested, I definitely highly recommend the place.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 4 - Ilhabela, SP

Today was our last day on Ilhabela. I had a hard time sleeping, woke up in the middle of the night with a headache and kept hearing a mosquito buzzing around my ear. It was around 9am when we went down to breakfast, which was far less impressive than the fare at Manga Rosa, just bread, cold cuts and melon. Last night we made arrangements with Carlos, the manager of the pousada, to get a ride to Curral, a “hip” beach further south. To our great surprise he offered to not only let us store our bags at the pousada until we got back, but also to let us take a shower in our room when we were done. How nice is that?
There were two other guests from the pousada that got a ride from Carlos at the same time, Alexandra and Jamir. Carlos dropped us off by Curral’s small chapel (apparently there is one for every beach), and we went up and took in the view.

While Alexandra and Jamir headed for the more populated and “hip” Curral to our right, we chose the smaller and deserted looking Praia do Veloso on the left.

There were some really beautiful (and hot) black rocks, or streaks of black rock anyway, and the most bewitching sand effect – a thin layer of black covering the more standard brown sand. All this spoke of some fascinating geological history, of which we know nothing. But we did collect some of the sand to take with us. Incidentally, getting the black sand on you is not recommended as it immediately heats up to an uncomfortable temperature.

I fell asleep right there and then and woke up several hours later nicely toasted, or rather a bit overcooked. Husband had been amusing himself with coconuts and taking beautiful pictures of the beach. He also got bit by an ant, which has made his foot swell quite a bit.

Around 2pm we walked along the shore to Curral, where our suspicions were confirmed. This ‘hip’ beach was filled to the brim with people (pale and chubby, an unusual site in Brazil), cafes, restaurants, beach chairs and an overabundance of boats, which made swimming problematic if not dangerous. If this is hip, I want none of it. We got some snacks out of necessity, but they were so overpriced it was almost worth staying hungry.

And in a strange turn of events we met Alexandra and Jamir waiting for the bus. There was a man selling piggy banks (why???) by the side of the road, and Husband’s foot was really rather dodgy looking by this point.

We got back to the pousada and tried to get ready as quickly as possible. We were aiming for the 5:30pm ferry because we were not sure if the bus would be leaving at 6:30pm or perhaps earlier (Ilhabela is not, after all, really a station as much as a stop in the middle of nowhere). While we were paying for our stay (also R$110 per night), another guest was getting a ride to the ferry and we were asked if we would like to join. The guest in question was actually getting a ride all the way back to Sao Paulo and with the owner of the pousada, simply because she was heading that way, but we already had tickets for the bus and declined the invitation to be taken along all the way. In the end we ended up catching the 5pm ferry and were at what we thought was the bus stop by 5:30pm, leaving us some time to kill. At around 6pm a bus saying “Sao Paulo” went by without stopping and gave us a bit of a fright, but after talking with some people and other bus drivers we found out that our bus was not leaving the station in Sao Sebastiao until 6:30pm, and coming here afterwards, so we were pacified.

The bus ride itself was uneventful. The first half hour or so it drives to the mountains, then it takes about half and hour to go up and down over the ridge, and then it’s two plus hours to Tiete (Sao Paulo bus terminal), this time in the dark. So now we are in Tiete, and our next destination is Curitiba, a big city in the state of Parana, just south of Sao Paulo state, on the midnight bus – R$75 per person, in case you are curious.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 3 - Ilhabela, SP

After waking up we had another excellent breakfast at Manga Rosa (our last). Today they had two cakes to choose from! Then we packed up our stuff and said goodbye to Paulo and Mariley, our excellent hosts, and went on our merry way.

Loaded with our backpacks we walked to the center of Vila – near the church with the giant metal Jesus structure – and waited for the bus, which of course had just left. Among the school kids we spotted two other backpackers and upon making some conversation discovered that they were from Germany. While I was practicing my Deutsch the bus arrived, only not where we were expecting it but on the other side of the little park. So we ran, loaded as we were with our bags, and caught it just in time. Since the northern bus runs only as far as the ferry we had to get off and wait for the southern bus. As luck would have it one was scheduled to arrive in 15 minutes, giving us just enough time to walk to the local office of the Litorania bus line and purchase tickets for a bus tomorrow evening to Sao Paulo.

We took the southern bus to Portinho and had no trouble locating the Vida Bela pousada where we intended to spend the night. This was the same place recommended to us by the Dutch girls we met on the first day. It is much bigger than Manga Rosa and the décor is more rustic. Everything is done up in many bright colors and there is a pond, a gym, a swimming pool, outdoor couches with privacy curtains, a shrine and even, inexplicable, a sauna. Unfortunately they seemed to be doing some remodeling and were painting the rooms around us. I am annoying very sensitive to smells and had mad headaches whenever I hung around the room for longer than a few minutes. Therefore, we unpacked and quickly went out for the day.

We had two goals today – to go to the beach, and to see some of the local waterfalls, Cachoeira dos tres tombos (waterfalls of the three tumbles or drops). The beach was first on our list. We headed south by foot and asked directions every so often. The road went up and down and had a very isolated feeling to it. We passed a restaurant where we thought we might eat later tonight and the road that lead to the waterfalls. A woman waiting for a bus suggested that we go to Praia Juliao instead of Feiticeira, which was closer. All of them were somewhere below the road so we could not see them. In Juliao we found a snack place and had some ham and cheese sandwiches.

After walking a while longer and seeing some of these very interesting local residences, we discovered that the entrance to the beach was all the way back by the sandwich place so we had to retrace our steps.

The beach itself was very windy today. At first we huddled on the beach under a blanket, and then went into the ocean and threw a coconut around to keep warm. We did not end up staying long, however, as we were both freezing.

Finding the waterfalls turned out to be very confusing. We followed the marked side road passed a very empty looking but cheap pousada, and had to go on some wicked vertical but paved roads for quite a while. There was not a single person in sight, nor a sign. The only sign we did see pointed us towards a dead end road. So in the end, the way to get to the waterfalls is to always take the right-hand road once you get onto that side street. They must not get many tourists… Eventually one comes to a wooden gate and a kind of sign that explains that there are three waterfalls one after the other, counting from the top. They are not terribly impressive but it was still nice, and we did not see any snakes, which was a bonus.

3rd waterfall.

2nd waterfall.

1st waterfall.

As we headed back the sun was beginning to set. I was pretty beat with my cold and all this wind. All I wanted was a hot shower and some good food. The restaurant we had passed, Ilha Sul, looked very nice but was extremely expensive. It also proved to be the only restaurant for miles so we had no choice. It was, however, delicious. They brought us an entire fish and deboned it in front of us. While being able to afford it was no problem for us with our dollars, the rest of the customers, and there weren’t many, were extremely posh, so we felt a bit out of place.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Brazil '08, Day 2 - Ilhabela, SP

The fantastic owners of Manga Rosa, Paulo and Mariley, got us some bikes from a rental place in Perequê called Juninho (outrageously expensive considering the sad quality of the bikes - R$30 per person per day for a one speed bike, mine with a broken handlebar). Consider that each night at the pousada costs R$110 and comes with a fantastic breakfast - coffee, tea, fresh juices, cold cuts, cheeses, many kinds of bread, fruit and even cake!!
The plan today was to bike north to the northern most beach of Jabaquara, which is supposed to be beautiful. The only bad thing was that my cough has now acquired a runny nose companion. So drippy, we set off.
The road was alternating cobble stones and pavement, up and down hill at very consistent intervals. Because of the broken handlebar I could not go uphill at all so we pushed our bikes up all the hills and then rode down, and on and on like this.

The first beach we came to was Barreiros. It was, like many of the beaches we saw today, deserted but for one man who was just chilling.

Soon the little biting flies that the travel books warn you about began to attack us, so we put on bugspray by this interesting abandoned-looking house. Note the fruit, which is edible and the size of my head.

Up until the beach of Sino there were quite a few pousadas and restaurants but eventually they began to disappear and the residences became less posh.

As we left Sino we saw a campground (apparently there are four on the island: two in Perequê, one in Sino and one in Grande). We stopped to check it out and it's quite a deal - R$20 per night per person if you bring your own tent and R$60 if you want to rent one of their little trailers. There are bath houses throughout, a restaurant or kitchen and mango trees loaded with mangos for the picking. We grabbed a few!

On we went passed where the bus has it's last stop and the road turns to sand and gravel (from here 3km to Pacuiba and 8km to Jabaquara). By this point you have also increased in elevation so the beaches are somewhere below you. It was hot and a bit muggy, so we decided to cool off at Pacuiba beach. It was completely empty and beautiful. Gorgeous black rocks and the occasional black sand, the cool ocean, definitely welcome in this heat, and then it rained for a while, which I love when I am out swimming. There was single house on the beach, with a garden and chickens, but no sign of people. For lunch we ate the mangos we had picked up along the way and a coconut that we found on the beach.

At this point we decided not to go on to Jabaquara, but head back. It was getting on in time and we still had to bike back and then go even further back all the way to Perequê to return the bikes by 5pm. On the way we stopped in Sino once more, but this time to check out the famous rocks. The place is not actually called Sino officially (surprise!) but is nicknamed thus because it means "bell" in Portuguese. The rocks on this beach, when hit with a hammer, produce a sound just like a bell. Wicked cool! So we went up to the little bar/restaurant and asked for a hammer, and banged away. Good times.

By the time we reached Vila I was so exhausted I did not know how I could go on. What with the cold (disease not temperature) and the heat (ambient temperature) I had a raging headache, and my arm fat was hurting wicked bad from being shaken to and fro on the downhill cobblestones. Not to mention that they don't make those bike seats cushy! So we stopped at Manga Rosa to take an advil and leave the remaining mangos and headed for Perequê still 6km away (total trip today ~24km). Fortunately the road from Vila to Perequê is almost completely flat and even has a handy bike path, so we got there just in time for 5pm and handed in the bikes. It was a struggle once again to get them to accept a credit card but in the end we persevered. Then we tried to find a place to eat and settled on one of the few open places (and rather expensive I have to say), Pier 18 right there in Perequê. There we had fish for two, once again smothered in butter. Just as we were leaving a bus passed by so we had to wait for 30 minutes to catch the next one, which we passed people watching. There are a lot of scooters on the streets, an efficient but scary mode of transportation. On the beach a bunch of teens were playing volleyball. Must be a nice life...
After dark, around 9pm we ventured out again to say "bye" to Vila and maybe see more squid fishing. Unfortunately, the pier was much less lively today, but as we walked along the promenade we came upon an exhibit of a local artist who makes sculptures from old car and motorcycle parts, as well as tools and other scrap metal. We even got to meet the artist!

Tomorrow we move on but we'll be sad to leave Manga Rosa.