Florianopolis, Brazil
Where I stayed
The Backpackers Sharehouse Hostel
Well then, a new country, a new language and a new adventure. Florianopolis is a small beach town / island (or so we thought) of 800,000 people, though this almost doubles during the Brazilian summer. We had heard rumours of a beach paradise and it was a perfect half way stop between Buenos Aires and Rio De Janiero. Aside from some cloudy skies, we weren’t disappointed.
Our hostel was perched a short walk up a hill, which overlooked the sea front, a picturesque river, a lighthouse and some streets dogs which we adopted as our own, despite the health warnings. The hostel itself was a chilled out mix of hammocks, benches, cushions and a big communal (read – drinking) area. We arrived late, but Mozart, the receptionist, gave us our keys and directed us towards a sister hostel where the rest of the guests had gone for cheap drinks and some samba. We dutifully deposited our bags to the room, layered the deodorant over the grime and made haste to the bar.
Several caiprianas and an unidentified meat dish later, we were soaking up the Brazilian atmosphere. Laura soaked up so much that she went head over heels down a step and managed to bruise her knee and cut up her feet quite impressively (Laura note – the steps weren’t level, health and safety hazard if ever I saw one). It brought back nostalgic memories of the old country and Harcourt Street on a Saturday night. We persevered however, and at the end of the night we bundled into a almost antique Volkswagon Van with our new-found hostel friends which brought us home.
We made it to breakfast the next morning despite the mild cases of alcohol poisoning and properly introduced ourselves to everyone. Those at the breakfast table included : Jan and Jorieen the slightly insane Belgians, Stefan the uber-European European (Swiss), Steven the Dutch flower farmer (with an Irish accent), Sam and Shemeenah the well spoken English girls and Emma, the Frenchest human being I have ever met.
After breakfast we went on a beach / jungle trek and took in the impressive coastal views. We all had a good chat and there was a good atmosphere between us all. We grabbed some lunch and Laura and I decided to chance our arm at surfing. Suffice to say we looked the part, if little else. We retreated back to the hostel where the staff had laid on an unbelievable BBQ spread. Chicken, steak, ribs, salad, some sort of meat powder that Laura could describe better than myself, and a good supply of beers. The big group of us stayed in the hostel and had a really good night.
The next day we all travelled to the South of the island to see what we could see. Ourselves and the Belgians climbed a mountain and saw an Armadillo, the others walked the beach and saw a dead penguin. The jury is still out on whose day was more successful. The place is pretty spectacular, it combines mountains, beaches and buildings to create an epic landscape, and the people are really, really friendly. We got some grub in a place where everyone who goes sticks a note on the wall. The photos will explain it better than I can here !
That night there was a ‘gaucho’ party in a near by bar. Gauchos are the old cowboy types from South America, complete with cowboy hat, large moustache and checked shirt. We embraced the identity having been assured that the nightclub we were going to would be full of similarly dressed punters.
Of course we were wrong. We turned out to be a possey of gringos in cowboy costumes in a bar full of locals. It didnt damped our spirits though, and we samba-ed with the locals until the early hours. Laura deserves special praise for her ability to samba with a drink in each hand. The Brazilians had never witnessed such talent.
Have you ever heard of sandboarding ? I hadn’t, but we went the next day. It’s snowboarding, only on sand. And hotter. Laura glided down the dunes like a pro. I was there too. Going down the dunes was great fun, walking back up was tough, but it was a great day and we had some much welcome sun. Afterwards we all went to the beach and messed about for a few hours. Two penguins came right into the shore and were swimming about. They had no fear of people at all and everyone chased them manically with their cameras, ourselves included.
We got the bus home as the sun began to set. On the way, Stefan, the European, told us a little about the various things he had eaten while travelling. We had to pull him up however when he spent five minutes telling us about the delicious wizards he had eaten in Peru. Through our giggles we asked if it was indeed wizards he had eaten, and he assured us it was. We think he meant lizards, but we still can’t be sure. He was an eccentric type.
Everyone was exhausted so we spent the last evening with everyone together playing cards and having some drinks. Stefan, the wizard-eating European, insisted on strict rules and protocol. Who were we to argue with a man who had eaten his fair share of Harry Potters ?
We had arranged to travel to Rio the following day with the Belgian couple, Jan and Joreen. We managed to get up late, spend too much time packing and therefore missed both possible buses. The Belgians were a little unhappy with us, but maintained a neutral stance. We hopped into a taxi and made it to the bus station. Ahead of us was an 18 hour bus ride and Rio !
from: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/waydownsouth/1/1309475750/tpod.html
