Thursday 15 March
Hopefully this will be the last early morning reveille on this trip and we can toss away our alarm clock. At 05.00 it was still dark outside but the television weather bulletin was reporting that both Salvador and Rio would be having a dry and sunny day. We arrived at breakfast just before 06.00, while goodies were still being put on display by waiters showing signs of just waking up, but it was too early to eat very much – even Colin could only manage cereals, fruit and marmalade. Our last morning in Salvador.
Maria (our last tour guide in South America) arrived as we were handing in our key and obligatory customer survey sheets – hotels in South America all expect you to complete the survey including the comment box, so we have found ourselves looking for small things to add – like no clock in the room (although we did have our own), no tissues in the bathroom or towels stowed too far away from the shower. All really minor points but in most of the hotels we have stayed in they have got it right through years of experience. But sometimes the management take note – like the lady at Romota who was going to put tissues in each room, and consider some sort of non-slip covering for the mats. In this hotel the points would be minute. With our luggage stowed we set off for our last flight – we hope – and all the itinerant waiting and procedures that that flying entails.
We arrived at Salvador airport to find long queues at all the check-in desks – and after twenty minutes we hadn’t moved an inch with the same people still leaning over the desk. Maria had been checking on the source of the problem and returned to inform us they had now changed the desk for our flight – apparently several flights had been checking-in at the same desk and the queues had become impossibly long – so we now had a desk of our own. But the queue we joined was just as long, with exactly the same problems – the printer didn’t seem to be spewing out boarding passes (here they use the old bus ticket paper rolls, not the thick card versions we are more used to at home) and passengers with problems concerning their tickets. The hostess seemed to keep disappearing behind the scenes for long periods. It was nearly 08.30 – an hour later and approaching take off time - before we reached the front. The young girl took our paper tickets and passports, tapped the information in the machine, and then disappeared for more than five minutes. It was extremely frustrating not knowing what was happening but Maria told us the plane would be delayed to allow time for all those behind us to check-in. And she was right. After finally receiving our bit of ticket roll, and safely negotiating security, we found the gate number for the flight had been changed, and the departure time put back for forty five minutes – and this is early in the morning – you can only imagine the knock-on effect for the rest of the day – no wonder some people regularly wait four hours or more at South American airports.
The flight to Rio took a couple of hours, and seated around us was a large party of Brazilians – mainly 30 – 40 year old men, for whom this seemed to be their first flight – whether they were going to a football match, or some other men’s day out, we were not sure, but there was lots of nervous calling and singing before we took off, and they all clapped loudly once we were airborne. The “meal” consisted of more dry toast and cream cheese. As the plane descended the noise level within the plane ascended, almost to shouting point, and the men had their seat belts off and were finding their luggage long before we docked at the terminal and the engines were switched off. The plane was going on to Iguazu, but I think the hostesses (sorry, flight attendants – aka trolley dollies) were very pleased this group was decamping in Rio.
Our last flight over – just baggage control to negotiate now. Colin’s case was one of the first on the carousel but we had to wait a little longer for mine. Outside a lady, flashing our name card at everyone as they passed through the exit, was delighted to have found us, and after introductions to our driver, Daniel, we made our way to the car park. The car was what we know as a Vauxhall people carrier, which was powered by gas (GNV?) – good ecology (?) - as well as petrol.. Our association with the lady was brief and we were soon making our way with Daniel along the motorway into central Rio.
Our last visit to an airport complete – not that they are a problem, its just that there is always so much hanging around and red tape, and we seem to have spent a enormous amount of time just getting into the air in South America. The planes have been mainly Airbus 320’s – not the most comfortable of vehicles, with little leg room, short seat lengths and very upright backs – when the person in front puts their seat back they are almost literally lying in your lap! The food has been very poor, although the trips have been short, not lasting more than a couple of hours. The only two flights to have left and arrived on time were the Campo Grande and Sao Paulo flights last Sunday – which was extremely lucky for us. The longest delays were four hours spent in Arequippa airport early one morning and nearly five hours at Ushuaia, where we were informed of the delay and spent the extra time exploring the town – although the knock on effect meant that we arrived in Buenos Aires very late at night with no opportunity to explore the city that day. But by far the worst experience were the flights from Arica to Santiago and onwards to Calama – which no longer existed. Not only had the flight schedules been completely altered and a new national policy for flying to smaller airports adopted, the changes meant us spending a night in Sanitago instead of arriving at San Pedro for supper. After getting to the Santiago hotel around 01.00 and having to get up again at 03.00 to catch the first flight out of the airport the next morning, it was exhausting . But now we can put it all down to experience.
We stopped at a garage on the way to fill up with gas, but there was none available, so for the last half of the journey the car reverted to a normal petrol vehicle. If gas supplies cannot be maintained – and here appears to be only one garage every hundred or so miles that sells this product – this is not going to support the national “green” transport policy.
We made our way out of Rio across the 14 kms (9 miles) bridge across the bay that we had seen from the Sugar Loaf mountain and Christ the Redeemer peak. It looked like an elongated Dartford Bridge, and the tolls on the far side charged the equivalent of 1 GBP. Traffic was heavy at this stage, as we passed through the shanty towns areas. Here the houses were built spreading out from the roadside, made up of rows of two and three storey, red breeze blocks cubes cemented roughly together, with gaping holes for windows where washing could be usefully hung. The people here seem to have very little, so turn to crime for their income. Further out we passed into the more expensive suburbs with smart apartment blocks and housing estates, before arriving in the countryside. The flatter land gave way to parched rolling hills with fields of cattle and even some wineries. The isolated houses here were large farmhouses situated half way up the valley sides, with fantastic views over their properties. The journey from Rio to Buzios was 180 kms (about 120 miles) and was scheduled to take three hours. We had a short stop at a modern shopping centre for ten minutes on the way – in case we needed to stock up on water or other essential items (Daniel suggested food! – I think food was important to him) – before finishing the drive in record time – about 2 ½ hours.
Buzios is situated at the end of a peninsula stretching out into the Atlantic Ocean (which we had in fact seen from the air when we were flying into Rio earlier), and is a series of small bays and sandy coves. In the early days, before tourism expanded in Brazil, it was visited by Brigitte Bardot, and consequently has now become a magnet for the “faux riche” of Brazil and Argentina, but foreign tourists are beginning to arrive in large numbers. There are stretches of small hotels lining each bay, with restaurants and designer clothes shops for the mini figure – they definitely don’t cater for the European market yet – size 10 is considered “grande”. Daniel told us everyone gets around by beach buggies, hired cheaply from several outlets at each bay.
Our hotel was situated in a small bay near the very end of the peninsula, overlooking a series of islands offshore. “Casas Brancas” means “white houses”, and as we pulled into the sloping cobbled courtyard – everything but the main roads were cobbled – we were faced with a large white painted house squeezed in middle of a row other similar buildings. The reception was not plush – just a wooden bar/desk with a couple of young girls behind. But all the walls were painted white, and the floors, pale marble flags, and it was cool. We were shown through an intricate web of tiny corridors to a room on the far side of the hotel – room 18 – which seemed fabby. The room was large, with sitting and sleeping areas and a shower room up a few wide mahogany stairs. it was very light and airy, with the air con whirring, and net curtains billowing slightly at the open patio doors. Pushing aside the curtains, we found a large balcony, complete with plunge pool and Jacuzzi bubbling away merrily, and two loungers, facing out over the sweep of the bay. I could see we would be spending quite a lot of time here. The rest of the hotel seemed to be made up of a labyrinth of rooms in tiny courtyards and up winding staircases, with lots of pots and greenery and pictures along the way – this is definitely not the hotel for the disabled or small children. There was a small swimming pool in a sun trap area below the restaurant verandah with several loungers, but it looked very hot. The bar and dining area were on the same level as our room, with tables and umbrellas and a shady area under a domed canopy of wafting white muslin. Early in the afternoon everything was very tranquil, hardly anyone noticeably around and we felt immediately at home – this would be our last hotel in South America and Sarah had done us proud when making her selection. We found out later that this hotel is one of the luxury spas belonging to the Johansen group of hotels and our room is the “star room” – the only one with a plunge pool.
We were tempted into the restaurant to find a snack - a fillet steak sandwich (just a light snack!) and asparagus coulis. We sat overlooking the water, watching the ferry boats and water taxis as they carried passengers to the various bays around. Moored in the centre of the bay was a cruise liner – about the same size as the one we are traveling on back to Spain – and their dinghy continually plied across the water to Juan Fernando bay, around the tip of the peninsula. The whole scene reminded us a lot of a busier version of Bophut, in Thailand, and the effect was just as relaxing. After lunch – it was about 16.00 by now – we checked our emails and did a bit of investigating about our trip to America in the autumn. The sun sets in Buzios just after 18.00, and the town, off to our left, becomes a refuge of lights as all the boats disgorge their passengers and moor for the night. There were also lights along the coasts of several of the islands, pinpointing the settlements. The cruise ship was a myriad of lights in the centre of the bay, but this moved off a little after 20.00 for its next destination.
We decided to eat in the hotel tonight and leave exploring the town until we were more rested tomorrow. The food here was absolutely delicious – fairly plain simple flavours that complimented each other – for starters (here entrées are main courses) we had fresh crab and salad leaves with a honeyed soy sauce. Then Colin had penne with huge langoustine prawns in a mild curry and mint sauce – the flavour was so delicate and scrumptious, we could both eat this again. I had seafood risotto, brimming with different fish including squid, octopus, prawns, mussels some white fillet and lobster in a creamy buttery sauce. We had no room for dessert again – must resist the starters tomorrow.
We cannot watch the telelvision from our bed, as it is in the sitting area of the room – so we sprawled over the white leather sofa and caught up with the CNN news – we seem to be a bit behind with whats happening in the world – and I wanted to catch up with the tennis results! Colin, meanwhile was stargazing. Sleep time soon arrived - it was tempting to lay out on the balcony under the stars and sleep – but I think it might get a bit cold towards dawn.
