Buzios

My neighborhood in Rio. Not in Buzios yet.

So Buzios was pretty nice. I think I went the day or so after Christmas. Back in 2010, remember? I woke up an hour before the bus ticket place opened, which was pretty brutal, 9AM, so walked around my 'hood for a bit. Its a really nice, quiet residential neighborhood with few or no gringoes, but has its fair share of cracked-out (literally) little kids and aggressive mendigos one would be wise to avoid. A long city bus ride to the inter-city main bus station later, I settled into a very comfortable coach next to some random woman from London, who wasn't much for conversation. Nap time!

Arriving at my hostel in Buzios I found it totally empty. Not exactly what I expected, given the stories about meeting all kinds of great people in hostels, and especially not given the 'high season' price I paid. 'Whatever,' I thought, determined to have an adventure on my own. At least I had a 6-bed dorm to myself! ("Room to bring six women home with you, eh? Ha ha ha!" an acquaintance of mine said. Yeah right, that'll be the day.)

Buzios main port or something. Don't swim there.

'Downtown' Buzios is really like any other beach or island resort town. Two main streets, lots of bars and restaurants, high prices and tourists everywhere, mostly rich, unpleasant Cariocas who won't give you the time of day and friendly Argentineans (role reversal as per Brazilian perception?).

I hit up some beaches with the remaining daylight, paranoid about leaving my stuff while I swam, always glancing back at the shore as I chilled with the fishes. I think I saw a lionfish or a stonefish or something like that. I walked back to the hostel, showered and got read to go out on the town. A pizza (what all Brazilians eat all the time), two beers, and many futile glances later, the experience finished by reinforcing my prejudice against going out by myself.

The next day I started out early to rent a scooter, a real hog, 49CCs. Burning up the asphalt, actually mostly dirt and stone, I explored Buzios' beaches in what was a wonderful day on the road. Freedom! Flexibility! This is why people get drivers licenses and motorized vehicles, I realized.

The first two beaches I saw were praia Tartaruga, which was pretty meh, and then praia Ferradura, which was family-oriented and had interesting geography as a sort of bay with a relatively small, long channel to the sea. I think I ate something there and walked around a bit. Hopping back on my ride, I braved some nasty dirt roads to check out the pocha das Tartarugas. There, I finally felt like I had 'arrived' in Buzios, as someplace with natural beauty that I could enjoy. The pocha did not have tartarugas but was pretty wild, uninhabited and seemed raw. I liked it, and it set me in a good mood for the rest of the day.

The view of Ferradura from a mansion construction site

On the mountainous, steep, pitted 'roads' to the next series of beaches, I saw mansions sprouting up everywhere. One, at the top of a hill, had only the concrete foundations poured but had an amazing view; I could tell it would be easily a R$7 million home. Buzios in general seems like the playground of the rich, and seeing all the fancy houses and hotels and especially the nightlife gave me the impression that this was not exactly a 'virgin natural peninsula' of any sort.

The authorities of Buzios take pride in the geology of the area, which is admittedly kind of interesting, calling it the 'ancient Himalayas of South America,' whatever that means. Several bays and points along the south shore have unique and beautiful features, jutting out against the waves like a mad king's fortress. Spear fishers and regular fishermen line the coast, in between the beaches. Praia do Forno and praia da Foca were pretty awesome, I had a coconut on one of them while some Americans made fools of themselves, drinking and getting sunburned. The guy who opened my coconut seemed like some crazed German gringo expat, but his Portuguese was pretty fluent so maybe he's just from the south. A group of Brazilians listened to really terrible loud music down the beach, prompting some nasty notes in my journal. I think I was just lonely.

Buzios

I wrapped up the day with a look-out point, way up on a hill I had to use my feet to get the scooter up there. And man was it worth it, with a pretty full 360 view of the peninsula and all its weird mountains and coves. From there I saw a trail leading from a nearby beach, praia Brava, to another secret beach. I vowed to check it out as soon as I could.

My friend arrived that night, and we set out, with a random American, to have a good time in town. For me, this means drinking beers and that's about it. For my friend, this means chasing girls. I suppose I could learn something from him, but he was having a tough time with the Buzios crowd. After a coked-out crazed Frenchman accosted us while we were sipping our beers, we wandered the streets, my friend calling out and trying to talk to nearly all the girls we passed. None replied. Matters were made worse when a troupe of models in extremely skimpy lingerie strutted by, promoting a local club. "Bunda! Bunda!" I could almost hear him begin to scream.

The next day I met up with the guys and they recounted a night of frustrations leveled at Carioca women. All the others - Paulistas, Mineras, Argentineans - would at least chat with them for a bit, but not the Cariocas.

Praia Brava from the top of the trail

Later, at praia Brava, which was inhabited mostly by the super-rich at a super-fancy resort right on the beach, predictably filled with French people, I explored the 'secret' trail. At the far south end of the beach it shot up into the hills, all slippery red clay and angry pointy plants. At the top of the hill I was afforded a great view and a little break to check my map.

"Great, right on track to see the 'nature beach,' like the map says" I thought. Ohh boy, what a mistaken translation that was.

At the bottom of the hill, I came upon the beach. Tiny, nestled between steep hills, with no buildings and only the trail to access it, it was a perfect natural paradise. Then two things happened. First my eyes were drawn to a sign, which struck me as strange just for being there. On the sign, it said "Praia Naturista." Ok, natural beach, that's cool, but why do they need a sign? Then, the next part: "Por favor tirar as roupas." Hmm, I thought, why would the sign ask me to take my clothes off? A sign has never asked me to do so before, and I was immediately reminded of Terminator 2.

However, those happy thoughts were shattered when the second thing happened. I scanned to the left and saw several fat naked dudes. Ah. So that's what 'naturista' means. A Paulista who had been walking behind me turned the corner and said, "I did not know about this." I agreed and we both made our way back up the hill. I felt bad for the two girls walking on the rocks along the shore, fully clothed, garnering all the attention.

My last few hours in Buzios were spent cruising around, watching old guys deliver single 'long neck' (the name for a bottle) beers to their buddies by leaning out of a moving dune buggy, and waiting for the bus, which was right on time at one and a half hours late. I'm glad I went, but of course it didn't live up to the hype and I didn't have a real 'hostel experience' as I've been told about so many times before. Is that but an elusive dream, to want to meet educated, interesting, fun people and hot girls in hostels in beach paradises around Brazil? Regardless, I am looking forward to many more solo adventures. I just wonder if I'll ever get enough!