the diamond studded sand beneath my toes stretches out into the dark, calm sea, lapping against the boats which jut into an equally jeweled sky. i find the beach giving me a strange sensation of home and i realise again how easy it is to be part of these beautiful islands.
ihla grande lives up to its name and is a mass of unexplored and exotic forest and hills, rocks and bweach. small crabs pop in and out of the sand infront of me and mosquitoes feast on my rich vegetariean blood.
sadly the world and his wife in the form of backpackers had the same, apres carnival exotic island chill out, idea.
the days that followed held many delights; a boatride to the acclaimed best beach in brazil, where the sand squeaks beneath your feet like fresh snow and tartan fish dance around you. hikes up to the highest point in the island with a view indescribable. the jungle wove its own path with tree roots and it was hard work but vibrant with sound and colour, descending to cool off in a freezing natural pool with rock slides!
the island is a web of windy little streets, vast unpacked beaches, pousadas with so many flowers, humming birds and vultures. the feeling of safety is immense, the pace is half that of rios.
however on returning to rio for one evening a sadness befalls me as i see that ihla grande is the land of the rich, the ideal paradise, by sitting for a drink in a side street my eyes are once more filled as i see the truth and the other side of the gap, the vast gap, leering men, scantily clad, starey eyed girls, dirty, drunk, young and old, poverty, drugs and prostitution. theyre the ones the rich build their security gates to keep out, the ones i fear and love so much more.
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