Ilha Grande, Brazil's third-largest island, is a delight, packed with forests, beaches, hiking trails, bars and restaurants, domestic tourists, and stray dogs. I spent two nights here, at the hostel whose terrace – on the extreme left of the pic (pic) – overlooks the bay.
There are no cars here: transport is all by boat around the coast, or by bike or handcart on the island's few dirt roads. Everything vital, such as mattresses, gets moved this way (pic). Relaxing is clearly one of the main activities. (There are no banks, either.)
I hiked a few hours along stunningly beautiful trails accompanied by a friendly Brazilian family (pic). They were very interested in knowing about British culture, such as fish and chips. The lad, Vitor, spoke good English and wants to be a chef like Gordon Ramsay. I hope he doesn't start speaking English like Gordon Ramsay.
Our destination was a couple of lovely beaches (pic) where we swam...
...and picnicked on rather sandy sandwiches (pic). I was quite surprised by how out of shape a lot of Brazilians are: half of them seemed to be, well, fat. Clearly the economy really is booming. I wondered if this national weight problem went some way to explaining the recent decline of the once-invincible football team...
...but beach footy is evidently still popular (pic). One chap had to swim into the water to retrieve the ball after accidentally kicking it seawards. He was booked for diving.
Finally, back in the main settlement of Abraão, I could watch the sun go gently down, its golden glow making me very relaxed and happy. Funnily enough, the same applied to the beer (pic).
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