I seem to be following a certain routine here in South America, where I go one crazy big city, beach, crazy big city, beach. I definitely don’t mind it – a couple of days of rest and recouperation definitely does me good.
From São Paulo, I took an overnight bus to Florianopolis, an island in Southern Brazil connected to the mainland by a bridge. I had been told that Florianopolis was the best place in Brazil, however my arrival was met with pouring rain that didn’t stop until my final few hours there.
However, I still really liked my stay – I walked along the beach and thought of Grandpa and East Head, played cards, delved a little further into my book, met friends and went dancing.
I went to a brilliant dancing club on my first night there, where I learnt some style of two step. I don’t quite know what it was, except to say that I have two left feet and don’t much like being led by the man. The patriarchy! But I had a really great time never the less, trying to master the most basic move until we were forced off the floor at the club’s closure.