ILHEUS, BRAZIL - 28 September, 2002
Again, another night-bus where I did not sleep well. Hopped onto a local bus marked CENTRO. The local buses in Brazil had a stupid turnstile for passengers to pass through after paying.

I had my backpack, so I could not pass through the turnstile. I wanted to sit where the unpaids were sitting (the old folks and those with special passes and very fat people, I supposed) and simply turned the turnstile to increment the passenger count, but the inflexible fare-collector disallowed it. He rather peeled himself off his seat and helped me carry my backpack across.

Still, he was nice enough to ask me where I was heading, attempt to study my LP map, discuss with another passenger and decide I should be getting off right about here. This kind of helpfulness was deeply appreciated, especially since we could not speak each other's languages.

I had long f-ed my Portuguese phrasebook, buried it deep in my backpack. I simply used my Spanish at the Brazilians, substituting the odd word in Portuguese if I knew them. When I spoke, most of the time, they seemed to know what I want. When they spoke, I usually was clueless although I was improving in this area.

I recalled the time when I got off the train in Vienna, Austria and wanted to find out if a particular tram went to Westbahnhof, I asked two guys, "Er.... tram to Westbahnhof?" At once, one guy pulled his friend away as if I was a leper and waved me away, "No English." Well, I didn't ask if you spoke English, idiots. 'Westbahnhof' was in German after all.

Found my pousada after a short wander around town in the drizzle. I was the only one in the whole pousada. I collapsed on my bed and snoozed until after 1pm.

Night buses did not appear to be working for me. I seemed to require about half a day of catching up on my sleep when I arrived. But, it was alright today as Saturdays here in Ilheus appeared to be as dead as Sundays. No shops were opened.

At a small restaurant, again, I was met with kindness and friendliness. The unassuming town of Ilheus was really warming up to me. The owner attempted to explain to me what the food was, although I had not asked him to do so. A lady devouring her lunch nearby, kept poking me and asking me if the food was 'bom' (good). A little girl, whose mother popped in to buy a snack, sat at my table and greeted me nonchalantly, 'Oi' (Hi).

As I walked around the quiet town around the peninsula, I heard blasts of fireworks and loud music from cars. These cars were running campaigns for the upcoming VOTA BRASIL election on October 6. They were playing catchy jingles and blaring political messages. Perhaps the politician with the best jingle wins.

There had been many billboards, posters, flyers, flags put up and distributed by the campaigners to promote the politicians' names and numbers. Brazil used numbers for electronic voting. So, politicians with the most memorable set of numbers might just win, those with '1234', '1111', etc...

They did not stop at billboards, posters, flyers. They painted on walls, pasted behind road signs, everywhere with a space. To me, they were the worst vandals. And I bet, after the election, they would just leave them there.

ITACARE, BRAZIL - 29 September, 2002
I had heard high praises about the beaches at Itacare. It was about two hours by bus there, from Ilheus. I had no clue that the best beaches were actually along the way to the town of Itacare.

Once I arrived, I followed the crowd and ended up on a crowded beach which was lined with restaurants and bars and packed with people. OK, this was not quite what I had expected but I was too lazy to go hunt for the perfect beach and simply made myself comfortable on a spot, lay down and slept.

That evening, before I ordered dinner, I gingerly asked for the price. "R$7," the lady replied. I did not bring too much money along because I was spending the day at the beach but R$7 I had. I ordered 'peixe, por favor' (fish, please).

What was served to me was HUGE. I was so hungry I attacked the food at once before it dawned on me that there was no way this huge portion (perhaps, once again for 2 persons) cost only R$7. I now asked the old man who had served me the food how much it cost. "R$12," he smiled. "R$12?????" Gosh, the worst nightmare of a diner... I did not have enough money with me. I explained to him, I thought it was R$7. He said everything was R$7, except the fish.

Argh.... I sat there, stunned. I even asked if I could just eat up half of the food and pay half the price. Hahaaa... dream on. He looked at me for a moment, then he simply smiled and said, "Como... como..." (Eat, eat). Gosh, they were so nice.

I ate with a heavy heart until I remembered I had brought my VISA card along. This morning, I had decided at the last minute to bring it along. I had actually forgotten about it for a moment. After food, I asked if I could leave my bag here as a deposit for him, while I went to the cash machine. He insisted it was not necessary and let me go get the cash. Brazilians were fantastic!!

When I returned to my pousada in Ilheus, I chatted a little with the owner of the pousada. He was also very nice. I then regretted having bought the bus ticket out of Ilheus for tomorrow. There was no one in the pousada except me and it seemed, the owner felt a sense of pity to see me go and that I only stayed such a short time. Yeah, perhaps I should have stayed longer to know Ilheus a little better.

The only thing I knew about Ilheus was it was the home-town of one of Brazil's most famous writers - Jorge Amado, and I had walked past the 'rua' (road) named after him many times.

ILHEUS to CARAVELAS, BRAZIL - 30 September, 2002
I was heading south to Caravelas which was the jumping-off point to Parque Nacional de Abrolhas for some whale-watching. It apparently was the right season for whales to pop by.

It was an 8-hour ride to Teixeira de Fretas. I finished 100 Years of Solitude in two bus-rides. It was a fantastic book. I was totally in awe. Marquez might have just earned himself a new fan.

I arrived, had a late lunch and had to wait about two hours for the next and last bus to the coastal town of Caravelas.

The bus drove through the darkness. Yet, despite the speed and the blackness of the surroundings and the people, the driver managed to spot the odd persons here and there along the road to stop and pick them up. Took us two and a half hours to get to Caravelas.

Long day of travel today. Collapsed onto my bed after a quick shower. Best deal so far, R$15 (US$5) with private bathroom, TV and breakfast.

CARAVELAS, BRAZIL - 1 October, 2002
And there was even an attached balcony which I only noticed when I awoke this morning.

Caravelas was a much smaller town. I meandered around. An old lady, sitting by the doorway, smiled at me. She called out, "Japao? (Japan?)". I replied, no. Nevertheless, she extended her hand, shook mine, hugged me, stroked my arm and kept repeating, "Que linda, que linda". Err.... loosely translated as "How pretty, how pretty". Ahem.

More people passed by me with greetings and smiles. Caravelas was as friendly as Ilheus.

After booking myself on a tour to the Parque Nacional de Abrolhas for whale-watching tomorrow, I headed out to the beach in the next town to lie down.

A typical Brazilian gesture I noticed was the thumbs-up sign. They did that to say 'all is cool', 'no problem', 'hey, I'm fine, how are you doing?', etc... That was the sign given to me by the bus-conductor when I asked him to tell me where to get off.

Beach was not the prettiest but it was quiet. There were only a handful of people. I was practically alone. Perfect.

PARQUE NACIONAL DE ABROLHAS, BRAZIL - 2 October, 2002
We left on the speedboat at around 8am. Most of us sat on the front part of the boat. As the boat sped through the waters, the waves got choppier and choppier and the ride got rougher. The boat flew sometimes and upon landing, huge splashes came at us. Soon, we were soaked to the skin, our eyes stinging with salt-water. I had to wrap my camera inside my waterproof jacket to protect it.

We slowed down. Someone spotted a whale or two. Yeah, right over there. They surfaced a little and then, the tail flipped up and went silently down. Wow... I tried to imagine the entire size of the mammal. It must be huge. And to be so gentle and elegant... I was awed.

Before we got to the islands three hours away, we came upon more pairs of whales, usually mommy and baby. Some squirted water from their blow-holes. Some did little waves with their fins. I was waiting for breaching - that's when they jump out of the water and slam down. It would be awesome to see that.

We were paddled to an island which had colonies of birds which, unfortunately, due to 'no entendo Portuguese' (I do not understand Portuguese), I never found out the name of the birds. They were sitting there in their nests, brazenly staring at us. Some even tried to chase us away. Many had fledgings which were molting their baby feathers. They were nearly the size of their parents. It was fantastic to be so close to these birds. Frigate birds and vultures were flying above us as well.

Thereafter, the boat took us to another island and we went snorkelling or scuba-diving. Brazil was not famous for their reefs. If one had seen the reefs in the Red Sea or the Carribean, one would not be impressed here. But, let's not compare.

We returned at 5pm and I hurried back to my pousada as the last bus back to Teixeira de Freitas was 6pm and I wanted to catch the 9pm bus to Belo Horizonte. I returned and showered hurriedly. When I was ready to leave, the pousada staff informed me that my small bag was kept in a safe and the elderly owner was the only one with the key and SHE had gone to Teixeira de Freitas. Huh?? Oh no... I did inform her I was returning at 5pm for my stuff.

We waited anxiously for her at the door-step. Then, I saw the 6pm bus pull away from the Rodoviaria. Sigh... I waited til 7pm, before I decided that I just had to leave things as they were and not push it. I stayed another night.

When I was having my dinner, the elderly lady came looking for me, gushing with apologies. I was with some German friends I met on the boat and they could speak Portuguese and they told me the lady would not charge me for my room tonight as it was her fault I could not leave. Awww.... that was so sweet. I told her not to worry as I did not buy any bus-ticket. She was finally pacified.

I was glad I stayed one more night and had a good sleep. My skin was burning up with all the sun today and I was also thoroughly exhausted.

CARAVELAS to OURO PRETO, BRAZIL - 3 October, 2002
I paid for the night. These people were simply too nice to take advantage of.

At breakfast, I met Tony from England. He was heading off today too. I mentioned I was going to Ouro Preto, which meant I had to head to Belo Horizonte. Since the only bus to BH left at 9pm from Teixeira de Freitas, I had the whole day to wait here.

He suggested going to Vitoria which was perhaps, three hours away and there might be buses to BH. He himself was heading to Rio from there. Vitoria was the capital of the next state and he figured we could spend the afternoon wandering around the city for a while, see something different, before catching the night-buses. Hmmm.... yeah, why not? So, we left together for Teixeira de Freitas on the morning bus.

The ride to Vitoria was not three hours. The ticket guy told us six hours. But it was actually eight hours. We arrived after 8pm. No chance to wander around town at all.

After all the small towns I had been to, where after a short drive through some dusty buildings, a quick turn and we were at the Rodoviaria, here in Vitoria, being a huge city, it took about one hour of driving through traffic before we finally pulled into the Rodoviaria. Gosh. Another long day on the bus.

To my surprise, there was a bus straight to Ouro Preto and it was leaving in 45 minutes time. Excellent timing, I thought.

OURO PRETO, BRAZIL - 4 October, 2002
OK, I was feeling a little tired with all the long bus-rides. But such was the size of Brazil. The interesting places were spread out way too far. I had limited myself to Salvador as the northernmost I would go because I wanted to be back in Rio de Janeiro in three weeks. Loads of people had sung praises about the places even further north like Natal, Fortaleza, Jericoacoara. But I knew it would be very expensive and time-consuming to head up there and back in three weeks.

After the coastal towns, I made a token stop in a colonial-flavoured town in the interior of Brazil, with a gold-mining history. Ouro Preto was set in the mountains. The Rodoviaria was at the top of a hill and walking down, I was accosted with superb view of the lovely houses on undulating streets, pretty mountain scenery and rising clouds.

It was 5am, very early. A guy who was opening up his shop greeted me. He immediately followed me, suggesting this hotel and that. While I was polite, I was a little wary of such offers, as I heard that they earned commissions from bringing guests to certain hotels and the commissions came from me as I would be charged a higher price for the room.

I declined politely but he was all smiley and insistent. The first hotel he shouted up, replied that it was full. I told him I was heading to the Youth Hostel. He needed not to come along as I knew the way.

He was not easy to dissuade otherwise. He followed me to the hostel and rang the bell, woke up the guy and only left when he got me settled in the room. He even introduced himself and shook my hand. Gosh, he could not have earned any commissions as the room prices were stated clearly on the wall. So, he simply wanted to get me settled in a place. Now, that was really sweet. I was really very touched by all the wonderful Brazilians who had treated me with so much kindness.

I was the only one in the Youth Hostel. When I woke up at 10am, I saw a huge spread of breakfast waiting for me. They made three flasks - one for coffee, one for milk, one hot water for tea - and a huge jug of juice. I know it was their job but I felt rather bad they went through all the trouble just for me.

OURO PRETO, BRAZIL - 5 October, 2002
Ouro Preto was quite a touristy town. At first glance, it reminded me of Taxco in Mexico, with the steep cobble-stoned roads, the charmingly-restored colonial houses, the churches standing at the top of the hills in the distant. Most shops around the main square sold tourist souvenirs.

My room faced one of the most beautiful churches in Ouro Preto, no less - Igreja de Sao Francisco de Assis and overlooked the downhill part of town. Gorgeous, enchanting view everywhere.

A soapstone market was right next to my hostel too. There was a soapstone quarry nearby, hence the souvenirs. They were heavy but were different from those kitsch, colourful, useless souvenirs I had seen in Salvador and around here. I bought a few items. Yes, they were heavy and fragile. I would have to post them home once I got to Rio.

I visited a gold mine Minas de Passagem, a section of which was now opened to tourists. To get down, we had to sit in a rickety trolley-car that went down deep into the tunnels. The guide spoke in Portuguese and I was the only tourist with him. He rattled on and on about how gold mining was done here. I even managed to understand him a little and asked a question or two. There was also a blue subterranean lake in the mine. No swimming or drinking allowed though, due to the minerals in the water.

OURO PRETO to RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL - 6 October, 2002
Today was Brazil's Election Day. As it was also a Sunday, apart from the tourists shops, almost all other shops and restaurants were closed. I wandered around town and actually came upon the office where the election was being carried out. It was not busy, though.

Ouro Preto was not very big, but hilly. Walking around required quite a bit of effort but the views offered were usually great. I had almost covered every street on the LP map by afternoon.

For want of somewhere else to visit, I took a local bus to Mariana, a town 12km away. It took me 35 minutes to get there. It was even more dead than Ouro Preto as it was not set up for tourists so absolutely nothing was open. The election fever there was more apparent. A lot of tiny campaign papers, printed with the numbers the politicians wanted them to punch, were strewn all over the ground. Sweepers were busy today. Took me 20 minutes to decide to head back to Ouro Preto. But the bus came only after a 30-minute wait.

Yet another night-bus to Rio de Janeiro. It was almost three weeks already. I hope I sleep well tonight. I also hope I get my Bolivian visa.

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