Northeast Brazil 21st July - 14th August.
21st July. Teixeira de Freitas. 254 miles.
Got underway today, on what may be the last leg of my journey, without any further delay after saying my final goodbyes. It was cloudy all day with patches of rain and dry interspersed. I am continually assured that this is very unusual weather, but it feels almost like preparation for going home. The road is for the most part straight and uninteresting. The original plan, hatched yesterday evening, had been to stop some miles short of here at a place called Itaunas, a beach town where the original Portuguese settlement was swallowed up by sand dunes which are now 30 metres high. However it takes a dirt road to get the final 20 miles there. I went to the end of the tarmac to have a look and the first stretch did not seem too bad, but with the rain I could just picture myself arriving at this place by 3 o'clock with nothing to do in the drizzle anyway. Beaches are miserable places in bad weather.
So instead I kept going and crossed into Bahia, so I am officially in the northeast of the country now. Supposedly huge stretches of unbroken beaches and tropical sunshine. But not today. Teixeira is a nondescript place just off the main road that runs up the coast, but inland. It just worked out as the place where I gave up on the day.
As often happens I get a room in the first hotel I stop at – which is probably the best in town and way over budget (almost as much as Rio, in this a much poorer part of the country) but I am too wet through to care.
One of the things I noticed about Bahia, as soon as I crossed the state line was that the road deteriorated badly. Lots of potholes, and deep ones that had all the traffic weaving from left to right, slowing down progress dramatically in some spots.
There is almost nowhere to eat here I find when I venture out in the evening, and I end up snacking at a bar in what passes for a shopping mall, and watching Brazil v Uruguay in the semi-final of the Copa America. Its almost a foregone conclusion who will win.
22nd July. Porto Seguro. 182 miles.
Finally it looked like the weather was breaking this morning, blue sky was opening up all over the place as I had a leisurely breakfast. The road was very pot holed and slow going. Heavily loaded lorries weaved all over unpredictably, looking for the smoothest route, making it difficult to pass while they climbed hills at unbelievably slow speeds. I had to start ignoring the no overtaking signs to preserve my sanity. The scenery though was fantastic – rolling hills, mostly grassland of a very bright, almost luminescent green. But it was also clear that this is a much poorer part of the country, and not just because of th road quality. Lining the sides of the road in some places where these barasti style sun shades, some occupied by skinny children, all with hand painted signs nailed on them that simply said 'We need food'. Every now and then I passed work crews filling in the potholes with sand.
I wanted to take advantage of the weather and took as dirt road towards one of southern Bahia's more isolated beaches, Caraiva. I'd barely gone a few miles however when it began to rain and the dirt turned to mud. With my bald rear tyre I turned back.
More slow miles but back on the main road I was at least dry again. When I got off the BR101 towards Porto Seguro I was suddenly on smooth tarmac and made good time. Rather than go straight to Porto Seguro I took another branch road that led to a beach a little to the south, Arraial d'Ajuda. It rained again a little on the way but when I got to the beach the wind was the main feature, making it too cold to go in the water or just sit in the sand. The tide was high leaving only a thin strip of sand which I walked along for a while. There were beach bars with a few hardy customers sitting out in the wind though just a few metres back it was protected, still and perfectly warm. There were also private clubs and recreation areas with walls backing almost to the high tide mark. Some had security gates and a guard.
As the wind whipped up the sand to sting my legs there seemed little point in staying, so I headed for the centre of Porto Seguro, which entailed a short ferry ride across a river. Luciana, a friend of Vanessa's lives here I am to call and stay with her. I have her address and as I have time before she is likely to get home from work, decided to hunt down tourist information for a map and directions. In the end the service comes to me. I am pulled to the side of the road when a couple of guys on a bike park up next to me brandishing fistfuls of hotel leaflets. I explain my situation and before I know it one of them has taken out his mobile and calls one of the numbers I have. It isn't Luciana he gets but Renato, her cousin who is here for a holiday with his girlfriend Moné. He doesn't speak any English, but between him and the moto guide I get directions and we meet up. He is driving a rented beach buggy and he takes me to Luciana's house. Conversation is naturally limited but I try my best and am nevertheless made to feel welcome, plied with food and beer. In the end Luciana doesn't get home until nearly eleven pm. I am falling asleep on the sofa and it seems far to late to think about going out.
23rd July. Porto Seguro. 75 miles.
It was a promising start to the morning, bright blue skies. I decided to head for Trancoso, a beach about 30 miles away, including the ferry crossing again. It was good tarmac all the way but before I got there it had already rained on me once, as it seems to be doing almost every time I head towards the beach. The very last section to the beach was a dirt track and a bit muddy and rutted, with large pools of standing water, but no real problem. I stayed in Trancoso for about and hour and a half, and did get some sun, but the sky was always clearer to the north, where I had come from. I left when the rain came down again. It was threatening to stay for a while and I wanted to get out while the track was still passable.
So I went back to Arraial d'Ajuda. It was still a little too cool just to sit, so I walked, in the other direction this time. The sand stretched out seemingly endlessly before me, almost deserted as I got away from the main entrance, but with the occasional collection of isolated bars, seemingly with no road access to them. I saw a couple of moto boys going up and down the sand with supplies. There was a brief but fierce rain storm that suddenly blew in, and I retreated to a restaurant that had the forethought to have plastic sheets to close them off from the weather (most are just open verandahs with kitchens at the back). By the time I'd had a couple of beers and some lunch it had cleared up again.
I got back to the bike about four and went into Porto Seguro to go online for a bit and buy some flip-flops before heading back to Luciana's.
24th July. Iléus. 231 miles.
Went out with some of Luciana's friends last night, sushi then to a bar with a band. It was a great night out, I played a bit of Brazilian pool, they have smaller pockets and different rules, by I demonstrated my superiority by winning both games! We danced into the wee hours, and could have kept going but Luciana had to get up for work this morning.
I was up relatively early myself and got quickly on the road. The weather was better again today, with just a strong wind to make it a little bit chilly at first. Back onto the BR101 for about 120 miles, and it actually improved in the latter stretches, with long new sections free of pot holes. I then branched off to take a more minor road that gave me a long ride right next to the sea approaching Iléus. This road was also mostly good, and very empty, much more so than most others I have been on in Brazil, so I was on my own for long periods. I also got a different landscape than I have become used to – flat and open. Instead of the usual red the soil was bleached white sand, even a long way inland. There were also what looked like palm tree plantations, all neatly spaced out, which is kind of bizarre given that they grow wild anyway. I wondered if it was some attempt at reforestation.
On the coast the wind was stronger still and though there were miles and miles of uninterrupted beaches littered with restaurants and places to stay for what looked like almost all budgets, and it being Saturday, there were very few people actually out on the sands. In a place that's usually hot all year round you can afford to be choosy about your beach weather.
Iléus itself though is built around a protected bay. There is no beach to speak of near the centre but the wind is much diminished and I quickly noticed a rise in temperature. Just walking around in the afternoon in t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops I could feel the strength of the sun.
24th July. Salvador. 310 miles. Passed 30,000 trip miles.
A relatively uneventful days riding, mostly through rolling green hills and good weather. It was main roads all the way, mostly in good condition. I only stopped once for fuel and some water. I've been having a little trouble starting the bike recently, it seems to kick over then die. Not sure if its an electrical problem with the starter, maybe the spark plug needs replacing, or it could just be the fuel, sometimes it seems like it just won't ignite, others it starts perfectly. Quality control on fuel is notorious here.
I got some rain coming into the city but it was brief. I pulled over at a petrol station to study a map and plan a course of action. A car pulls up beside me and a couple get out. The girl speaks English and is asking if I need help. Her husband, who is a biker, seems to think he has heard about me through some internet chat room, via one of the big bike clubs BR-116. I met one of their people at the gathering in Sao Paulo, who gave me the sticker the guy is now pointing at, so I concede its far fetched, but possible. They insist on helping me to find a place to stay, and though I am not that keen on following someone else around like that, it would seem rude not to. We try a few of the places I have listed first, but the problem is lack of parking. They then take me to a place they know which is a bit expensive but I decide I may as well take it for one night and try to find something cheaper tomorrow.
Before they leave I get addresses for a few bike shops where I should be able to get a new rear tyre. During conversation I discover that they thought I was German (The GB sticker is often thought to be Germany). Also the person talked about in the chat room is German, so it turns out I'm not that famous after all. What a let down.
Salvador immediately strikes me as being an interesting city. One of Brazil's oldest and second only to Rio as a tourist destination, with lots of good beaches. The population is overwhelmingly black, a hang over from slave days when this whole are was sugar plantations, and supposedly there are still some very strong African influences in the culture.
The downside of where I am staying is that there don't seem to be too many places to eat. I wandered around for a bit then found a street with music blasting out and tables strewn not just on the pavement but the road as well. So I'm having a cheap plate with a couple of beers, just watching people pass by. Its definitely locals here rather than tourists, so I do stick out a bit, but who cares.
Vanessa has a friend here as well, an English teacher. I knew I wasn't supposed to stay as she has just had a kid, but I have contact numbers, which I tried but could not raise her. One was an answering machine, on the other I got a woman who I could not get to understand me, so I assume was a wrong number. I'll try again tomorrow.
There is a bit of a wind up today, and I'm embarrassed to say that sitting out in long trousers and a jacket I am feeling cold, whilst some of the locals are walking round in shorts and t-shirts. They're not supposed to be sued to the cold up here, but they are behaving like Geordies, and maybe there is more to this comparison, but I daren't say.
26th July. Salvador. 30 miles.
First thing I went to the centre to go to the tourist information office, determined to find a cheaper place to stay. They hunted round for me and found one for just over half the prices I paid last night. Away from the centre a bit but closer to the beach. I've had enough of cobbled streets and colonial architecture anyway. So I moved. Then in the afternoon I went tyre hunting with the list of shops I had got from the guy, Julio, yesterday. I visited 3 of the 4 on his list, one I couldn't find, but did stumble on a 4th anyway. In the end though I went back to the first one I visited. They were the only one to have the right size. It is a tubeless one, which is why I tried the others, but its good enough, and should be my last one. When they pulled the wheel off the mechanic showed me the main sprocket, new in Sao Paulo, which was in a pretty poor state. Considering the difficulty other people have reported in getting hold of non-BMW sprockets to fit my bike, I was dubious when he said he had one for me. But he did, albeit with one more tooth in it than mine. I had had a feeling the chain was jumping the teeth of the old one when I hot pot holes, and it looked like it when I saw the sprocket, so I went for the replacement.
In for a penny so I decided on an oil change as well. It was due anyway and I went for a grade better suited to the warmer temperatures than I have got from BMW in the last service. The old oil when it came out was very filthy, and riding back to the pousada afterwards the difference was obvious, with the engine running much more smoothly. When In Sao Paulo I had really gotten hooked on Gran Turismo a driving game for the playstation. I was reminded then how much of a power difference you got when changing the oil in the car.
Its really cool just hanging out in the shop for an afternoon. I assist in some of the work when I can, but mostly its just hanging out with a bunch of bike enthusiasts. I admit that I enjoy being an object of curiosity, and with them not speaking any English, the communication challenge is fun too. I think I've become a bit jaded recently about the whole trip, it just seems so much like ordinary life to me now. But an afternoon of being told how cool it is reminds me what I am doing. I saw eyes lighting up, not with envy, but maybe a kind of vicarious appreciation, and you only get that from other bikers. It make me feel pretty good.
26th July. Salvador
Went to the beach and got sunburnt.
27th July. Salvador. 9 months now since I left home.
I got up this morning with the intention of sorting out my visa and bike permit extensions. Officially both I and the bike have just two weeks to clear the country – not long enough. I knew that renewing my visa would be the easy part, the permit for the bike more difficult, if only because almost nobody seems to know what the document is.
First thing I asked the staff of the pousada if they knew where the right offices were. Yesterday I had helped them out with a computer problem, so I figured they would be keen to help me back. What I didn't expect was the offer to drive me round to them. Of course I accepted gratefully. Things backfired somewhat though. First stop was the Policia Federal, where they would stamp my passport. We got no further than the front gate however when the guard explained that I couldn't go in the building wearing shorts! If I had been on the bike as planned I would have worn long trousers. No choice but to turn around. The trip back was made especially long because we got stuck in a traffic jam for about half an hour, before taking a detour.
So I got back to the Policia Federal, this time on my own, just as they were winding down for lunch, and had a huge wait before I was sorted out. Next stop Receita Federal, which I just got to before they closed their doors to newcomers at two o'clock. Looking at the hordes of people waiting it was kind of a mixed blessing to be turned away after the girl handing out tickets for the queue had consulted with her boss, and decided they could not possibly be responsible for dealing with me. As they sent me away all I got was that I had to go to the port to sort it out. Fortunately it was nearby and I had already been past the main cargo entrance, so knew how to get there. Unfortunately the security guard at the gate, complete with big reflective sunglasses and used to dealing with routine lorry deliveries, did nothing but turn me away.
A hundred yards down the road was the Policia Federal again and I went back there in frustration to see if they could shed any light. I had to queue again but this time it was only 20 minutes or so. After some debate they directed me to keep going along the road running along the boundary of the port, and enter it on foot, at a door that turned out not to exist. After I discovered this fact I was beginning to despair of being able to do anything that day, but kept walking determined to at least find a way in. By luck more than anything else the wall on my right gave way to an entrance to an office, for the Receita Federal, clearly marked as customs clearance. This I knew had to be my target. It was past four by now and my main concern was being turned away until the morning. Which in effect I was but I did at least find someone to talk to in English. Jemimah may well have been little more than a student or office junior, but she told me they could indeed help me. I needed to come back tomorrow with photocopies of my documents and it would be sorted out. Then she broke the news that it would probably take a week to process. There are worse places in the world to be stuck for a week, but I have to be a hostage to bureaucracy. Of course I realised too that if I had come here on my first day, or even instead of going to the beach, I would have saved some time. Oh well.
29th July. Salvador
Did very little in the morning. Bought a book as I needed the reading material, English books are very expensive here. Wandered around for a bit. In the afternoon I went back to the Receita Federal, armed with a letter in Portuguese explaining why I needed to extend my bike permit. I had taken the easy way out and got Steve to translate it for me, rather than battling through it myself. This I handed over to Jemimah with my photocopies – including every page of my passport, the outside covers as well, at her insistence. She made a big deal of stamping each sheet, then took me down to see another woman. She fiddled around on her PC then gave me back a slip of paper with a reference number on it. Jemimah had explained I would need to call in with this number to check on progress. So the wait begins.
Later I finally got in touch with Erica. She told me I was welcome to come round that evening, it was her birthday but she wasn't having a party. When I turned up the flat was packed with people, who Erica later said she hadn't invited, but had just turned up. From the food spread out of the table though I suspected she had been expecting them anyway.
In fact Erica wasn't even in the room when I got there, but out back feeding the baby. I was let in by her husband and introduced round. There were a friar number of other English teachers there and one or two others who spoke good English. It turned out to be a good night.
30th July. Salvador
Basically got my washing done and went to the beach for a few hours. You can't leave any stuff lying around while you're in the water, so what I do is lock everything on the bike, so I only have to carry one key, then go straight for a swim. Afterwards I get my stuff and find my spot. There are these bars all along the beaches which have their own designated stretch set up with tables and chairs. So I can sit there, in the sun or shade as I like reading, writing or just navel gazing, and I have waiter service for drinks and snacks. Too easy.
In the afternoon I pack up as the wind and cloud come in. I phone Jemimah to check on progress, but there is nothing to report. Today is Friday, so I will have to wait til Monday now to chase it up again.
31st July. Salvador
Raining most of the day. I go to the city centre, do a bit of tourist stuff, but not for long. In the afternoon I went to the cinema and watched Hellboy. It was a ridiculous film but actually quite entertaining, more than I had expected it to be. Quite funny in parts. The rest of the day is wasted.
Me with a Bahiana in traditional dress in the centre of Salvador.
1st August. Salvador.
I woke up with a bad stomach this morning, which kept me in my room all day, except for a quick trip to the corner shop for some water and a bit of bread, all I've eaten. The meal I had last night, fish and vegetables was the first really bad one I've had in Brazil, so I'm not entirely surprised by the results. At least the weather is bad as well.
2nd August. Salvador.
I was feeling much better today. I finally managed to get out a new release on the website, and all up to date. The staff at the pousada let me use their computer rather than having to use an internet cafe. I am also trying to help them with a problem they are having downloading a film. Its from a site that claims to be totally legal, but as its Spiderman 2 which is still in the cinemas here, I doubt it. The problem is that they don't understand the internet very well, I can't understand the pop up error messages because they're in Portuguese, and we have difficulty understanding each other as it is. I can but try, but they seem to think I am some sort of expert.
In the afternoon I went to the port to check up on progress with my bike permit. I'm glad I did rather than call as I had to sign another piece of paper, but Jemimah tells me it won't be ready before Friday, which is frustrating. I don't mind staying here but I do mind not being in control of my destiny, a hostage to the system.
A view of the posh end of Salavor port.
6th August. Salvador. 40 miles in the last few days.
Its been a quiet few days really. I exchanged the new book I bought the other day at a second hand shop for a big Tom Clancy that managed to keep me occupied most of the week. The weather was better earlier in the week but the last couple of days have been cloudy and rainy, ruling out going to the beach much. On Thursday I tried heading north for a few miles but hit some really heavy rain and got soaking wet as I was just wearing ordinary trousers and jacket rather than the bike gear.
Finally Friday afternoon came round and I went back to the customs office. Jemimah wasn't there and wouldn't be back today. Oh. I explained my situation to one of the blokes there, and it turned out she had said something to someone else. This is the bit I really love, and is pure Brazilian bureaucracy. After waiting over a week, having filled out forms, written a letter and photocopied all my vital documents, this guy who clearly has not really been briefed and is not there to finish off some lengthy trail of paperwork. This guy looks at my passport with visa extension, then he takes my original bike permit, stamps that and writes the extended days on it in pen. He takes a copy and hands the original back to me. It barely takes five minutes. I'm not much of one for paranoia but I suspect the tourist board is in on this one, keeping me here and spending. Never mind, I'm free and legal now for much more time than I will need.
7th August. Maceio. 394 miles.
Northward bound once more. I was still dogged by rain for a fair part of the way today. It started just as I was getting ready to leave, so I put on my waterproof. Five minutes later I was dry outside but sweating inside from the heat. I persevered for a while but then I saw I had a toll road up ahead, pulled over and packed it away again, not least because it made reaching my wallet easier.
I must have had all of half an hour before the rain started coming down again. Now the sensible thing to have done would have been to stop and put the waterproof back on, but it was only a light drizzle so I didn't. Big mistake. The morning wasn't too bad, with only a few short bursts, but in the afternoon it became gradually more constant, so that by the time I really noticed, it was too late to bother, I was wet through. Its the temperature that does it, because its warm I don't feel wet until I'm soaked and going wrinkly.
The terrain today, when I could see it, was mostly rolling hills and flatter areas given over to sugar cane. Good scenery for the most part. The road quality was mostly good, until some very bad pothole zones, made to seem worse than they really were by the ultra slow lorries that are nevertheless difficult to pass because of their unpredictability in steering all over the road to avoid the worst of it.
I arrived in Maceio as dusk was falling. It was finally dry again, though I wasn't, so I took some time hunting for a good, cheap place to stay. I am eating out on the seafront. It seems a pleasant but non-descript seaside town by Brazilian standards.
8th August. Recife. 170 miles.
When I got up this morning my stuff was still wet from yesterday. The t-shirt, socks, and pants I strapped onto the bike to dry. At first I didn't think they'd get a chance as it rained for a while after I got moving, but it soon cleared up and then got very hot. Similar kind of scenery as yesterday, rolling hills with sugar cane crowding the roadsides, with a few small towns in between. The road wasn't too bad but it did have a tendency to deteriorate suddenly. The best warning was the way the lorries ahead of me slowed down and weaved around. Most of the drivers are crazy. More than once I saw someone taking a blind turn on the wrong side of the road. Some of the potholes were more like collapses in half the road, and occasionally there were whole sections off to one side where the road had collapsed away several feet down a hill side. But the good sections were very good, almost new. There is no logic to it.
I arrived in Recife in the early afternoon, heading straight for the beach front district of Boa Viagem (good journey) which is where most of the hotels are. Its not easy finding a cheap place with parking so I end up in what I think of as the upper end of my price bracket (£10). Travelling and tourism here really highlight how great the economic divisions are in Brazil between the haves and have nots. The haves travel for holidays, and they like to do it in style. The have nots don't travel, except for truck drivers who stay mostly in very cheap but out of town places. There is not much of a gringo trail here as in other parts of South America, so there are few traveller haunts which are on the cheaper end but in the tourist areas. To a European holiday maker, after the flight, Brazil is pretty cheap, food and drink cost very little. But to a traveller it can seem relatively expensive, mostly because of the cost of hotels. So its a cheap place to live, and a cheap place to visit if you're on a European salary, but it is not cheap to drive through, at least in comparison with the rest of the continent.
9th August. Recife.
After dropping off my laundry for a service wash ( I have long since given up wasting time doing it myself) I just kind of wandered around today. I walked into the city centre and through a market bustling with people. In comparison with the beach area it was full of activity. Not a particularly impressive city but it sits on a series of islands all linked by bridges across the waterways. They say its called the Venice of Brazil, but its more like Amsterdam, and even then not very much.
It was baking hot and sunny all day, I was guzzling ice cold water and a large fresh pineapple juice from a juice house which are quite common here, but it was still not enough. It looks like I've finally left the rain behind and arrived in the true north. For the first time in a long time I can wear shorts in the evening perfectly comfortably.
Vanessa has another friend here but though I tried to contact her I couldn't get through which is a pity but doesn't really matter much. This is beginning to feel like a beach holiday, a kind of rounding off and winding down of my trip. The pace of life is much slower here.
10th August. João Pessoa. 134 miles.
It seems I spoke too soon about the weather. Though I left Recife in sunshine it didn't last long and the skies opened up to give me a good soaking. I had originally intended to ride through the colonial town of Olinda just north of Recife, but got lost and ended up heading north on the BR101 instead, bypassing the historic city., and couldn't be bothered to turn back.
I was in no rush today and rode fairly slowly, following side a side road along the coast for a while. Almost clear of traffic, especially trucks, it was a great ride through countryside and small isolated villages. I passed through several little beach towns on the way here which probably deserved a closer look, but by then the rain was falling so there was little point in stopping.
Just south of João Pessoa is Ponto de Seixas, the easternmost point of South America. From here west Africa is some 2200 km away. You can travel twice that distance directly west and still be in Brazil.
Unfortunately it was at this point that I discovered that my camera wasn't working, it wouldn't switch on. It was fine yesterday, with no low battery warning, so while I am not ruling out the possibility (currently recharging), I am concerned. I had originally intended to camp tonight, the local site is supposed to be particularly good and I felt like roughing it. But with the rain this was clearly out, thats just too rough, so instead I got a hotel where my stuff is slowly drying.
11th August. Praia Ponta Negra (near Natal). 145 miles. Passed 31,000 trip miles.
Despite the charged batteries the camera still wasn't working this morning. However I discovered another watch style battery as well, so it could be this. I tried a couple of shops in João Pessoa, but no luck. It was raining again this morning (this is getting like England) and I saw no real reason to stay, so packed up and got under way during a break between showers.
I took the first 90 odd miles on the BR101 and then as I was approaching Natal, left it for possibly the last time (it has been the main road ever since Vitoria) for a side road hugging the coast. I went through a few little villages where the tarmac turned to cobbles and the small houses were surrounded by palm trees. It was as ever raining so the beaches were deserted, lined only with empty chairs and folded parasols, but as I approached Ponta Negra it dried up and the clouds began to clear. I took it as a good sign and decided to stay here. There were certainly plenty of options and I hunted around for a while. In the end the cheapest place was right on the beach front with a place to park just a little way up the road. By the time I'd finished unloading the bike I was melting in the heat.
Its an outstanding looking beach in a long bay. It is evening now and I'm having a prawn rodizio, 14 different types according to the menu.
12th August. Ponta Negra.
It stayed overcast most of the day, but dry. The sun even broke free on occasion. I spent most of the day just on the beach, which was very relaxing. In the afternoon I took a jet ski ride which I have never done before. A guide took me out beyond the surf line and into the middle of the bay. Then he got off onto a little platform and I had ten minutes to play around. It was great fun, jumping off the top of the swells, spray in my face, doughnuts and just some straight line speed. And it at least felt pretty damn fast. Back on the shore I was shaking with an adrenalin rush, and went straight back into the water for some body surfing to burn it up.
After too many prawns last night I'm going for steak today, even if it is over priced, at least by Brazilian standards.
13th August. Ponta Negra
The steak when it arrived was enormous, really for two people even though I have ordered a half portion. I over ate and paid the price this morning. I managed to buy a new battery for the camera today, and that did turn out to be the problem. Once inserted it leapt back to life. Which made me very happy. I hadn't wanted to have to buy a cheap replacement for the rest of the trip, which I would have done if that had failed.
I road out to Praia da Pipa a few miles south down the BR101. It is a bay where you are supposed to be able to see dolphins very close to the shore. The journey there was a good one after leaving the main road behind but the destination was disappointing. No dolphins and the beach was very rocky. I barely stayed for half an hour before coming back.
Brazilians pilfer each other's ideas shamelessly. Steve told me a story of one woman who had the idea of hiring out chairs on Copacabana beach. She got rich on it and now on every beach, everybody has there own patch to sell to customers. Intellectual copyright is a joke here, music, video games and films are pirated as a matter of course. Most people can't afford the real thing. The point being that here in Ponta Negra the idea was the roving CD salesman. He pushes a wooden cart with CDs on top and inside has a car stereo hooked up to a car battery so that he can show off his wares. He wonders up and down the beach front, music blaring out. Nothing wrong with that really, but I swear I haven't seen it anywhere else. So someone here had the idea, started making money, and everybody moved in. Now there are always at least four in view.
This place is a good beach but it has been heavily exploited. The prices here seem high to me, particularly the restaurants. There are lots of Europeans here, and it is crawling with prostitutes, very much out in the open rather than hanging in dodgy dark corners. As an obvious foreigner I get approached two or three times every night.
Praia da Ponta Negra.
14th August. Fortaleza. 341 miles.
Leaving the coast behind for most of the day I am now travelling west (mostly). The road was very straight and took me through rolling hills in an increasingly dry landscape of sand, scrub and cactus. It reminded be a lot of Baha in Mexico, and parts of Honduras as well. The sun beat down fairly relentlessly all day. I only stopped once for petrol and a snack lunch, my bike drawing the attention of curious truckers, especially when I told them I was English.
Fortaleza is a big port city on the northern coast. I'm just passing through tonight but I will be back in a few weeks as this will most likely be where I go home from. Checking into a hotel I realised I was getting short on cash so went immediately in search of an ATM. And a little worryingly hit a brick wall. I found an HSBC but their machines didn't seem to be working. Another bank nearby, Bradesco, usually my second option had no machines that would take my card (usually only a selection accept it). Tomorrow is Sunday which means there will be nowhere open for travellers cheques, and I can't be sure I'll have enough for both petrol and a hotel tomorrow. So I don't really want to leave here until I get something sorted, because I do have enough to wait here until Monday for the backs to open, if it comes to that.
Accordingly I am eating cheaper tonight, which means shunning the street where all the tourist restaurants are for a table outside a bar by the town pier which looks like its mostly used by locals. And has more atmosphere to it anyway.