Paraty: the parade of the saints

Paraty is the second place I have been wanting to visit for years in Brazil. I had great expectations and I was not deceived. Situated in a magnificent bay that somehow was never filmed in a James Bond film (great mistake!) full of islands and crystal clear, green waters (yes, green!), amongst lush vegetation, it is the typical example of the fact that life is simply not fair. Not for people who happen to be born in places like Sudan, Northern Canada, Northern Corea and many other countries. Paraty is the laid out place where you may like to pass the rest of your days. Get married to a local girl or guy, open up a business as a big bunch of people have done (mainly French) and just forget that at the same time of the day your balls (excuse my French) might be freezing in la Belle Europe.
Until some years before, Paraty was just a small fishing village. Then one day a French TV crew (Thalassa) visited and that was it. French started coming by the hundreds (many never to leave again) and since French started coming this meant the place was real chic and, as things usually happen, in the end everybody came because everybody else did. This does not undervalue its charm and beauty, but how I would have wished to be there earlier, before every other house became a shop, a gallery, a pousada, a bar or a restaurant. Anyhow, the place is glorious and it was beginning of winter, so I can't complain. Paraty had the best food and coffee of the trip, not to mention the best, by far, handicraft and art shops of the trip. And when I say "every other house", I mean exactly that. Actually, I have no idea where the locals live, since the city does not seem to have outskirts. Once you are off the town, you are on the highway connecting Rio to Sao Paolo. Paraty has an aerodrome though, just in case you were a Brazilian businessman void of time. In which case you would fly in with your private small jet, and your mistress. I know. I am just being jealous…
As soon as I got in the village, I rented a bike. I have never rented a better bike in my life. One usually gets horrible bikes in far-away places, but this one was newer and probably better than mine. This helped a lot, since Paraty may be completely flat inside, but as soon as you get out of the city you start mounting to get anywhere.
At the very last day of the trip, the sun was calling for a beach day. But it was not calling just me. Thousands of Brazilians swarmed massively to Paraty to pass the long weekend of Corpus Christi. The city was preparing for days, and a big part of the streets were painted and strewn with all kinds of materials to form decorations, letters and figures upon which the Corpus Christi procession would walk at a time unknown. Everybody thought this was going to happen at a different moment of the day, and it is true the procession had to wait for the low tide to pass. But 5 hours late is kind of Brazilian time, and the procession came out at around nine o'clock, right when it started to rain. But the mass was absolutely an experience (see my films). I was moved in a way I have never been moved in an orthodox church, by the singing, the chanting and the devotion of the people that seemed to take this whole thing seriously and religiously. They were not there for the social happening. And when the word was given , they started kissing each other, another thing that amazed me. And this way I can say I was kissed by a Brazilian!
The beaches around Paraty, I can't even count how many, are simply to die for. Of course, you can only surf in them and they are not really user-friendly water-wise, but hey, wish I had one right here now! Nice, clean sand, lots of it, and an amazing sun that got the best of me in the end. Young Brazilians on surfs, women wearing barely nothing watching them, and the big majority of the other guys and dolls in cafes and restaurants nearby, enjoying a nice weekend. The thing that I find amazing in Brazil about women is, they can go to the beach wearing practically nothing, a string down there and a double string up there, and it is perfectly OK. But it is totally unacceptable to be topless on the beach. Another thing that I did not quite grasp is, you are going to see just a handful of girls and women wearing skirts in Brazil. Why?

The pousada was not quite to the standards it should be, but Lucy, the manager, was absolutely amazing, trying to figure things out with the owner having gone back to England due to a lover's spat (I hated the gay decoration of my room, completely out of place unless you like to do certain things in the room that I would not dare mention here). As for the restaurant Café do canal, I could be there every day, sipping microbe-burning alcools (I got sick due to too much sun and, well, the Brazilian winter!) and eating home made pastas, watching the pizzaiolo working right in front of me. As for the rest, if you think of it in another way, a caipirinha is like a child syrup, only with alcohol in it.

Até logo Brazil!

Highlights of the stay: Still makes me sad to think about them
Downsides: Nada!

Postcards part 1

Postcards part 2

Films: The Corpus Christi procession, In the church of Corpus Christi, In the streets of Paraty, Local Indians singing

Next: Go home... (no pictures available)