When last I was boring any potential readers with the longest travel log in the history of travel logs, I'd just had a mountaintop experience.
Well, you can't stay on top of the mountain forever, so eventually I carried on (or perhaps the others caught up to me?) to the beach on the other side of the hills. Now is as good as time as any - so let me tell you that Paranagua, the city where we caught the boat that got us to the island, has an extremely busy port. We didn't actually see that port, we were in a completely different spot (I think) but we could see the evidence of a busy port. That evidence was present in the dozens of huge container ships you could see throughout the horizon. That doesn't sound terribly impressive - but I tried counting the ships I could see (and many were miles out from shore) and lost count at 36.
When you sat on the deck of our hostel (on the other side of the island from the beach), there was a stready stream of ships coming and going from the port in Paranagua.

So, we had hiked the hill and descended to another amazing beach. The sun had come out over the course of the morning and the ocean was demanding that we swim in it. The three of us had that beach to mostly to ourselves; a couple other groups came and went but there were no more than 8 people at any one time. Awesome.
We'd been carrying one of those giant bottles of beer, (it had travelled by plane, train, etc from Bonito, I think) and it was starting to get warm in Airell's backpack after spending the night in the hostel fridge. The beer was wet, the ocean was cool, the sun was hot. Best day ever. Cannot tell a lie - I didn't want to leave the island the next day.
I don't have any pictures from our time on that beach. I don't really need them - I can remember the feel of the sun on my back and the wind in my hair. It was good. We did get surprised by a rogue wave at one point - I saw it coming but didn't have time to warn the others. It wasn't big or dangerous - just got their stuff wet.
Eventually it was past time for lunch, and damn. We were hungry. Our original plan for the day had been to hike over to the lighthouse and then go on towards the fort. Instead, we headed toward Brasilia, following a sign and a track that went through the jungle. We didn't see a lot of people and we saw the odd pousada - but we were getting hungrier by the moment. We'd heard there were places to eat in Brasilia but we had no idea how much further we had to walk. And then! We met a lady carrying a basket. In portuguese, I believe she asked if we were hungry, and if we'd buy one of her pastries. Her basket was full of pastries - still hot pastries. I considered for a moment, a mere moment, the wisdom of buying food from a random woman that appeared from nowhere with food for sale when we were starving. Call me crazy, but I also thought that was so awesome that we HAD to buy some pastries.
I don't remember what they were called but I tell you truly, I've never eaten a better meal - mine was filled with bananas and caramel and set me back no more than $3R.
Sustained, we carried on to Brasilia. Lots of pousadas, a restaurant or three, some teeny shops, a post office and a place where you could rent a bicycle. I think we stopped and had another drink and watched the world go slowly by.
It was getting late. We could have certainly walked back the way we came - but it had taken hours to walk as far as we had - even without stopping we wouldn't have been back to Encantadas before nightfall. We didn't have a flashlight so... not such a good idea. Luckily there is a boat that leaves every hour or so between Brasilia and Encantadas - cheap and quick.


You get great views of the island. That up there is the lighthouse.
I said it already, but Ilha do Mel just got to me. I didn't want to leave - and my companions felt the same way. We hadn't gotten to the lighthouse or the fort - and we were going to need to leave the island by 1pm the next day if we wanted to catch our flight. We considered changing our flights but it was too expensive. Or not available.
So we made a plan. We'd get up early, catch the boat to Brasilia, rent bikes and use them to cover the distance quickly. An excellent plan. So I settled in with my kindle on the deck.

Sunset. Beach. Good.

Amazing how much the tide came in - it came almost to the edge of the deck.
We'd been told about a good restaurant down the beach - it had a green light, we'd seen it the night before but tonight? No green light.
We picked one and set about eating and drinking. Again. Julie was amazed by our ability to pack away the booze. In retrospect, I am also amazed by how much booze I packed away. When you're escaping from reality - it just seems normal. We stayed up late, drinking and setting the world to rights. Well, as much as I and a couple 20-somethings could agree to set the world to rights. It was fun. And Airell demonstrated his ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. Even in the middle of a sentence.
(There may be photo evidence of this. There may not be photo evidence of this).
For someone like me that has struggled with insomnia THEIR ENTIRE LIFE, that is a gift worth being jealous of. In Brazil though? I didn't have any trouble falling asleep. I expect the alcohol I was sucking back had something to do with that, but I was also still recovering AND I was becoming increasingly undersupplied with thyroid hormone.
Post-surgery, I was put on a standard dose of .1mg of synthroid. At the moment, one year later, my dose has more than doubled to .225mg.
So the next morning it is fair to say that we weren't moving very fast. Now I learned long, long ago (shortly after I turned 25) that I cannot drink and expect to function the next morning without at least matching my alcohol intake with an equal amount of water. So while I may have drank hard, I also took in a lot of water.
This meant a lot of middle of the night trips to the bathroom, in darkened hostel hallways, never knowing who or what you might meet. Heh.
So, it's the next morning. We were going to get up early. I think I might have been up early, but my fair companions were not so ambitious. We didn't get on the boat until hours after we'd planned. I assumed we wouldn't have time for the lighthouse and the fort. Even with the bike. It was hot, since I'd been sick I was in dreadful shape, and I hadn't ridden a damn bike in at least 10 years.
See, when the herniated disc in my back was at its worst my doctor told me that riding a bike, for fitness or whatever, was not a good idea. I really took that to heart. This morning though, I wanted to see the lighthouse, I didn't really care about the fort, but damn, I wanted to go to the lighthouse. I have a thing for lighthouses. So we caught the boat, got to Brasilia and wandered over to the bike rental place. Rented the bikes, I adjusted the seat on my bike and we were off.
Let me just say, the best place to ride a bike after >10 year hiatus?
Would not be Ilha do Mel, land of deep sandy paths and tree roots crossing the paths.
For the shape I was in, I actually did pretty well. I was mentally congratulating myself for mostly keeping up with the younguns when I came around a corner and saw a wee bridge next to a tree, surrounded by brambles. To go across the bridge (which was the equivalent of 4 fenceposts laid down next to each other) you had to actually make a fairly sharp turn.
Airell was ahead of me but unfortunately Julie was behind me. So she got the special show of me trying to make the turn, failing miserably, catching the bike wheel on the bridge and me landing in the brambles.
I got up, bleeding quite profusely from the thorns in my leg - it had lodged so deep it didn't actually come out until I dug it out (on the flight home a couple weeks later). I have a scar to this day.
Bless Julie's heart though, she didn't laugh. At least not for long.
I picked myself up, got back on the bike (after walking it across the bridge) and rode the rest of the way to the lighthouse.

Rode as far as we could, then we climbed the steps. So many steps. It was hot and I was exhausted.

But totally worth it. Such a pretty spot. Have I mentioned I have a thing for lighthouses?
I was keeping track of the time - and we were already pushing it to catch a boat back to Encantadas, and continue on to the boat to take us to the mainland - and get ourselves to the airport in Curitiba.
I didn't think we had time for the fort.
I was wrong.



I do not recall when the fort was built. 1700s? It was winter when I visited and it seemed hot outside. To have to work and guard the place? Damn. I didn't stay at the fort for long, I knew I had a long ride back to Brasilia:

I think we had to ride back to that dark smudge in the middle of the picture. Couple of miles at least. I needed a head start so I wasn't the reason we missed the damn boat.

Don't I look like someone who rides a bike all the time?

So darn pretty there.
I made a wrong turn on my way back, so I had to back track. Signage? Not so much of that on the island. I rode back part way with Julie and we had to wait for Airell. He'd decided to climb the damn hill behind the fort. We returned the bikes, ran for the boat to Brasilia. By the time we got to Brasilia - we were really short on time. We ran back to the hostel, threw our stuff into our bags and left.
Well. I did those things. My 20-something companions?
Stopped for showers.
I would be irritated, but I? Bought souvenirs on my way to the boat. I applied more deodorant, so I figured it'd all be good. Also.
I did not want to be the reason we missed the damn boat. So I ran ahead, got on the boat and with my limited portuguese, managed to tell the captain that there were 2 more people coming, and could he wait?
He did.
Airell was the last to arrive, having spent time making himself all beautiful. That's the difference between 20-something and 37. Or between him and I.
When we got back to the mainland we needed to find the bus station. There weren't many english speakers, and this was beyond Julie's portuguese. We found a taxi and eventually, the bus station. Had a brief terror moment when I put my bag in the trunk and then couldn't find my passport. Which I needed to get on the plane. Different to have to stay when you want to, another if you can't travel without your passport.
Spoiler: found passport
We bought tickets on the bus that was leaving in about 45 minutes and ate the rest of the fruit and other food we'd bought on the island.
Now. I knew it was a couple hour bus ride to Curitiba. Based on the time the bus was leaving, I figured we had enough time to get to the bus station and catch a cab/shuttle to the airport. The first part of the journey was lovely - the same area we'd crossed by train - we crossed by bus.
If it were an express bus we'd have made it to Curitiba in plenty of time. Instead? We got a bus that stopped at every widening in the road to pick up and drop off people. Mein Gott. You know when you're watching the clock and you want something to come quickly and the clock CRAWLS? The opposite is true when you see the time for your flight ticking ever closer.
We got to the bus station in Curitiba about an hour before our flight was due to leave. It's a 15-20-30 minute ride to the airport. I? Had to find the locker with my suitcase. I'd written down the number and I had the key. Easy peasy.
Except. I got into the bus station and nothing, I repeat nothing, looked familiar. There were lockers - but not my locker. You know that feeling you get when things are going very, very wrong?
Multiply by 1000, and then you might be in the same hemisphere as what I was feeling. I didn't want to be the reason we missed the damn plane. Do no harm, and all that. I actually started wondering if we had come to a different bus station. And eff. What the hell was I going to do then?
I noticed that the locker numbers were moving towards the one I needed as I ran frantically through the bus station. The joy I felt when the station started seeming familiar?
Unbounded.
I found my locker, inserted my key and.....
NOTHING.
WHAT.
THE.
EFFING.
EFF.
I approached the newsagent shop across the hall and found the same girl that had sold me my token. Somehow I explained, mostly through frantic signs, that my locker wasn't working. She called security.
At this point I was levitating.
The security guy showed up. So it turns out that I'd needed to pay more to leave my suitcase there for a couple of days, and they'd put a special block on the locker. They had to go call another guy to get the special key. Once I'd paid the newsagent lady for the extra days on the damn locker.
I opened my phrase book to look up the words for FAST PLEASE PLANE MUST CATCH PLEASE FAST FAST FAST.
Time? Was moving much too quickly. I am getting freaked out just writing about this.
The guy with the special key came, unlocked my suitcase, I threw an obrigada over my shoulder as I grabbed my suitcase and made tracks for the taxis stand, where I was to meet Airell and Julie.
We bade farewell to Julie and met our driver. We told him we needed to catch a flight that left at 5:50.
I want to say it was about 5:10 at this point. And the airport was 15-20-30 minutes away.
EFF.
The taxi driver lifted his eyebrows and promised us... fast.
I don't need to go on the Amazing Race because that taxi ride was how I imagine the entire race would feel.
Gah. Airell asked me at one point if that was what the Amazing Race was like - he'd never watched it. 'Yes,' I said, 'Yes it is.'
We got to the airport in about 20 minutes. Our flight was to take off in that much time.
EFF.
We paid the taxi - and RAN.
Got to the Gol counter, it was deserted of passengers but many employees - some at the entrance to the line maze who asked where we were headed.
Iguassu, we panted.
Eyebrows lifted.
Foz!
Foz!
Foz!
Everyone seemed to be chanting Foz!
We got to the desks, they took our bags, gave us boarding passes and pointed us to security.
We RAN.
Security had no lineups. The security guy hit on me.
Seriously? I'm getting on a damn plane. How is that a good strategy?
(It's funny. I had no recollection of that security guy a few moments ago. But since I'm kinda traveling through this trip in a real-time kind of way - I keep remembering random weird stuff I've forgotten. Heh.)
We got to the gate. The signs were flashing 'Last Call'
We RAN.
They took our boarding cards (and I may I pause here, again, in an already too damn long entry, to note that they always ripped the end off your boarding pass as you went through the gate. This is not exciting or anything, but they would then take the pile of cards and move a couple feet to the podium and then scan each teeny slip of paper in a batch. I'm sorry, but that just seems silly. Also inefficient).
DAMN. WE WERE GOING TO CATCH THE PLANE.
The relief was palpable.
Palpable, I tell you.
The design of the airport was such that you went down the gangway, but there were windows and you could see the luggage being loaded. We were both watching to see if our bags were going to make it - we didn't see them on the carts.
However.
Coming out from the bowels of the airport were 2 people. Carrying, by hand, our luggage. Airell's giant backpack and my (Anna's) blue butterfly suitcase.
Relief.
Palpable.
We carried on to the bridge to our plane. We'd been so worried about missing the flight? But there was a giant line-up of people waiting to board.
I've never been happier to be in a line-up.
I've never been happier to walk to the back of a plane and strap myself in to another uncomfortable seat.
We were off to Foz do Iguazu. Iguassu Falls. Another hostel, called Favela Chic.
That hostel restored? Created? my belief in hostels.
All in good time.