I’m now in Paraty, a picture-postcard colonial beach village (pic) between São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. So it’s full of damn tourists. Not even proper British ones speaking English in loud middle-class accents, but Brazilians, talking Portuguese very fast and even louder.
The town’s pretty cobbled streets are closed off to cars, which means lots of bikes. Unfortunately the cobbles are too rough to bike along, so everyone gives up and leaves them propped against walls, like here… (pic)
I’m staying in a lovely little hostel right on the beach. This was breakfast (pic) on Black Friday, the day when back home people are queueing to fight each other for cut-price flatscreen TVs. Well, I had to queue a few seconds for my third round of fresh fruit and coffee.