Standing in the shade of a well worn hat, you steady yourself as the boat comes into the dock. Stepping off, the warmth of the wooden planks can be felt through your shoes. A welcome breeze comes off the Atlantic, but the heat still hangs in the air.
You pass a few reais to the boatman, pick up your luggage and head toward the town. Tropical birds screech, cutting across the sky from the thick jungle canopy that surrounds everything. As you listen to the waves gently lapping on the beach you think how all the noise and light of Rio seems almost an age ago; Though your feet are still sore from dancing until the sun peeked through the narrow windows of that bar.
Coming into the town the only sound is that of a guitar, moving through the dusty streets and sun bleached roofs. Against the white washed walls of the church an old man sits, his fingers skillfully picking at the nylon strings. A cigarillo hangs from his lips.
‘Ola, estranho,’ He calls, catching you staring. He smiles warmly. ‘Sua primeira vez aqui?’