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| Paraty, Brazil |
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The man finally left the postcard landscapes of Rio de Janeiro for the little town of Paraty, somewhere along the road to Sao Paulo.
Even if the road is beautiful and the bus comfortable compared to all the rumours you can hear about them buses down here, I used those four hours of traveling to catch up on my sleep.
(Parenthesis, literally, about the buses. The city buses, on the other hand, are not as comfortable. Suspension? Never heard of that.)
In Paraty, what is there to do? Almost nothing, it seems. But I enrolled in a horseback riding expedition in the brazilian jungle. A really good choice.
On Cassiqui back, a white horse who seemed to obey less to my directions than his need to follow the other horses, I experienced galoping, dirt paths and rivers to cross. We stopped at a freezing fall where our group of three went for a "polar" bath.
From there, we visited a cachaça distillery, where they make that brazlian alcohol with sugar canes. Yes, I tasted it.
It was my luck. After the "pure" cachaça, there were still five sorts of that drink, from the worst one to the one with caramel in it. Had a shooter of each. Got a confirmation from the Australian girl next to met, who never drinks either : six shooters in three minutes, it's enough to feel tipsy. Five tipsy minutes while horseback riding...
We came back just before I started thinking of complaining about some pain... Felt nothing but it sure will catch me tomorrow.
After pure tourism and problems in the last few days, this adventure allowed me to go back to the discovery part of my round-the-world trip.
I also met a Danish journalist who have been writing about politics for eight years. It'll help if I ever discover myself some talent in the danish language... And it helped with interesting discussions.
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