It was still pouring when I returned to Rio from Buzios. I am hesitant to protest this rain, as the nourishment of Brazil’s vegetation is probably more important than my tan. Nevertheless, a newly acquired English friend and I decided we’d try our luck elsewhere, and hashed together a plan to go to Ilha Grande. The Big Island.
A one hour ônibus ride to Rio’s Rodoviária (bus station), a 3 hour bus ride to Angra Dois Reis (where they busted 20 drug traffickers that day), and a 2 hour boat ride later… We washed up, slightly fatigued, along the shores of Ilha Grande.
There are no cars, no banks, just a small city center with some restaurants, trinkets, and internet. About 95% of the island’s original forest is still intact, even with a history of pirates, slave trading, and a prison that was used until 1994. The green peaks of the mountains reach high up into the sky, and the beaches only hint at the beauty that lies underneath the water.
In truth, the majority of my days were spent trying to evade robust raindrops – strategically ripping garbage bags to a mimic raincoat, sitting in a church pew for 2 hours, etc. Perhaps reading Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment did not brighten the day. But there was a segment of one morning with sunlight, and I snorkeled in Lagoa Verde, where the fish take on all colors and patterns. It was probably worth it just for that.
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