January River

It´s difficult to write about Rio retrospectively. I didn´t think I´d find a beach city - bar Barcelona - much cooler than Brighton. Rio for all its dangers, is intoxicating. We came for two days, wound up staying as many weeks and i still don´t want to leave.

Its green hills and mountains, magnificent bays and glittering harbour humbled by Christ the Redeemer, make it unforgettable. Coupled with Latinos, immaculate bodies in thongs and speedos on crowded sand, sexy Samba rhythms emanating from bars, caipirhinas, uppercrust Ipanema, poodles in socks, vine-entangled trees on cobblestone streets, hillside favelas, nighttime shotgun sounds made incongruous by the rising sun.

We tore ourselves away for a few days of tranquility in Paraty - a four hour bus ride south of Rio. A sleepy town, row apon row of pretty whitewashed houses, huge cobbles, bohemian boutiques, boat trips ferrying tourists to the many neighbouring islands. Only a world-famous literary festival and rising prices forced us out.

I write this looking out over a bay of fishing boats, the sound of waves lapping at the shore. Thick green hills, tops obscured by cloud. Palm fringed beaches and it must be said, an abundance of 19-year old Brits on the lovely Ilha Grande.

An overcast day, we´re saving one of the many beautiful beaches for tomorrow. Was considering an island trek until the mention of poisonous snakes persuaded me to sit here instead....