Following a four hour drive from Rio, I landed in Paraty, a beautiful small town with cobbled streets and brightly
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| Local fishing boats in Paraty. |
colored door frames and window sills. I checked into my pousada, discovered their bike collection and was immediately off to the colonial center of town. In no time, I was blazing through these streets on a mountain bike, hopping across cobbles alert to find the smoothest stones for riding and maintaining a swift but relaxed pace. I stopped numerous times to photograph what couldn’t be captured digitally…the charm and quiet of this town and the charisma of its mostly Afro Brazilian people.
This was a fishing town and life collected along its port for tourism and small scale fishing purposes. Colorfully painted private fishing boats rimmed the port as well as large schooners that took tourists out to the nearby islands and inlets for swimming, snorkeling and exploring. I took one of these tours and could have spent days on that boat, soaking in the water, sun and breeze in my ears.
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| Missionary church on the marina in Paraty. |
With the World Cup as a backdrop to my trip, football was clearly the national religion of the country. There was a huge screen set up under a tent to show the Brazil vs. Mexico game and a dominating drum circle spurring samba beats prior to kickoff. You could hear the samba rhythm from streets away and when I finally found it encircled by dozens of Brazilians, it was a like finding a musical treasure in a maze of white stucco buildings and horse drawn carriages. The fireworks kicked off at the start, during half time and at the close, and then occasionally set off throughout the evening…a signature of committed football fans in many Latin American towns to where I have traveled.
I met a lovely older gentleman en route to Paraty, a Brazilian engineer who helped me with some translation and looked after me to ensure I found my pousada when we arrived. His unsolicited kindness and care taking characterize the hospitality I have received in Rio and on the road in this brazen country.
I also met two Scottish travelers named Guy and Bill, who live in Morocco and London respectively. They grew up together near Glasgow and have since taken major trips together every two years. I later met up with them for a drink in Rio…lovely guys and good reminders of the goodness and magic that comes from connections on the road, even the momentary ones that may never circle back again. Life is richer with these dialogues along the way. They challenge me to examine my own lens for adventure, and the choices I make in transit and in life day to day.
