Paraty

Our flight back to Rio is delayed and doesn’t land until 10pm, which means that we don’t arrive in Paraty until 2am. This wouldn’t be so bad except that we can’t drive up to our hotel as it’s located in the historical centre, full of cobbled streets and closed to cars. So at 2am, the manager of the hotel is roused from his bed and meets us in the street with a wheelbarrow to collect our bags, which won’t wheel over the cobblestones.

Our home for the next few days is the delightful ArteColonial Pousada www.paratyparavoce.com, a 17th Century building oozing with charm and there’s even a lovely German lady (three words not normally used together in the same sentence!) running the show who insists we make ourselves at home and use her kitchen. Will likes her even more when we ask her for a recommendation for a place for dinner and she suggests the local cachaca bar. Now as far as I knew, there was one type of cachaca (spirit made from cane sugar and the main ingredient in Caipirinha’s, Brazil’s national drink) and that’s the foul type, which is why I prefer to drink Caiporoska’s (the same drink but made with vodka). But we’re chastised, no, damn well refused a Caiporoska in this place and they insist we try their cachaca, certain that they’ll find one we like. Little did we know that there’s as many different types of cachaca as there are whisky: oaked, blue, flavoured and young. I’m still not entirely convinced but at least I find one or two that are palatable.

The picturesque old churches and brightly hued stone buildings that line these cobbled streets form the perfect setting for a film crew who have created a set nearby and are making a film called Dream Maker about Napolean. It’s all a bit surreal as we wander past the extras, clad in ripped clothes and with “blood” pouring down their faces. I try my best to make a sneaky appearance, but there doesn’t seem to be a call for one of Napolean’s wenches in this particular scene.

We’re right on the coast here and there’s dozens of boats that leave every day from the marina for a cruise around the many islands here. Ours is a particularly lovely wooden affair and we’re both surprised and delighted when we notice that the staff are those that were enticing us with Caipirinha’s just last night and so naturally they offer us another the minute we board. It’s only 10am and I have some self-restraint, which is more than can be said for some people (cough, cough). A lovely day in which we see fish literally jumping out of the water, stop at a real Robinson Crusoe island with crystal white sand and lots of shells, snorkel amongst hundreds of fish and relax with a lovely lunch.

There's another beautiful beach nearby that we're keen to explore so hop onto the local bus, a decision we started to regret as the driver took the twists and turns in the road at 100kph. We're all hanging on for dear life and even the loacals are emitting little screams as we hurtle around corners with shears drops on one side. Thankfully, the ride back was a little more sedate.

Back at the pousada, the kids are enjoying having a garden to play in and loving having the two resident dogs to play with even more; a little sausage dog and a big, bouncy Labrador puppy. True to form, it’s not long before we hear a cry from the garden and rush out to find Harley backed into a corner having been bitten on the arm by the sausage dog! Turns out Harley had fed him a banana skin and then tried to stroke him as he was eating it. Poor Harley, doesn’t have much luck with dogs.