Ubatuba

The sun was out in the morning. Had the effect of o Papa (the Pope) worn out? It had stopped raining, but it was still hazy and humid.

Next to a bridge spanning a river I observed a snake slither past and then disappear into the water. By one of the stanchions was a cross with lit candles which had deposited soot on the wall. I wondered what that holy site was about. 

Catholicism is strong in Brazil but I had read that the Seventh Day Adventists and Assembly of God were winning adherents.

I spotted Asian faces, maybe Japanese trippers from São Paulo. Umbrella trees (terminalia catappa) at the beach provided shade in which dogs were snoozing. What a life. Children played at the water's edge.

Beach homes were set back from the beach. From ads it looked like they were holiday properties.

I walked all the way to the next beach, Itaguá. There were biquini (say it aloud) and diving equipment shops. The water was not clear, on account of the recent rains. I saw many young Brazilians. Like many developing countries, Brazil's population pyramid bulges at the bottom. I hoped the future would be kind to them.

A steady cool breeze kept the humidity bearable. Only problem was there was nowhere on the beach to sit, no benches or chairs, not even for rental. I found a sorvete shop and had a graviola (soursop) flavoured ice-cream.

Portuguese phrases I had picked up by osmosis: roupas de gala: one's best clothes, beijaflor (kiss flower): hummingbird.

In the afternoon I boarded the bus to São Paulo. The Tropic of Capricorn cuts through Ubatuba and there is a marker at the location. Since the tropic also cuts through the southern tip of São Paulo's Guarulhos airport, this meant that I had crossed the tropic three times in a week, once when arriving by air in São Paulo, once on the night train to Rio, and now, leaving Ubatuba. It's possible I crossed it a few more times as the bus wended its way inland towards São Paulo.

The road up the Serra do Mar was sinuous. The weather was misty, with only 100m or so visibility. In gaps I glimpsed pretty forests and lakes by the road. Buses and lorries here use a language of taps on the horn to communicate. Eventually we joined the Rio-SP superhighway at San Jose dos Campos. All the detritus associated with interurban superhighways were in evidence: Novotels, Maccas, industrial estates. Truck traffic was bumper to bumper. Some passengers alighted at various kilometre stops.

Eventually we reached Tietê bus terminal which is a huge complex that never sleeps. It's the largest bus terminal in South America and the second largest in the world. Even at the late hour of 2100 there were plenty of people waiting for their service. Here I settled in a chair to wait for the overnight bus to Curitiba.