Day 40 (four to go) - Paraty - Ihla Grande

Woke up in a relaxed mode in my Poussada in Paraty. No real panic (I thought) to get anywhere. I had a nice breakfast talking to my host (the ex project manager guy) and two guests from Paris. We had one of those great conversations you can only have with football fans. Why did Brazil lose so badly? Are Germany that good? Yes, Forest won the European Cup TWICE, more than Arsenal, Spurs, Chelsea, Man City, Newcastle, Everton and Leeds put together.

After three nice coffees and some typical Brazilian breakfast I paid up and walked into town to the bus station. The next bus to Angra dos Reis came around noon.

Waiting for a bus to Angra

I was told the journey would take about an hour so I thought i'd get to the port to catch the daily boat (2pm) to my particular destination easily. Unfortunately, not. The bus took about two hours and by the time I got to the dock it was obviously too late. After a bit of confusion I eventually got on touch with the Pousada and my boat trip was arranged for 5pm.

So, off I went to a restaurant to have some nice fish and a bottle of wine.

It gave me chance to get on line and catch up with facebook etc.

So, as I write this, it's dark and grey, raining and windy. Not really looking forward to going over to the island right now, but I'm committed.

Agra Dos Reis

Nice fish and wine

Well, the arranged boat trip didn't happen. I waited where I was told to wait but nobody, least of all "Joao", turned up. The thought crossed my mind to abandon the whole Ihla Grande idea - Simon had advised me not to go anyway. But the alternative seemed worse so I decided to get the next boat to the island anyway and try to find somewhere there.

Actually I only had an hour to wait and I managed to go on line and book a place straight away.

Soon enough I found myself in a rather tiny, inflatable speed boat bombing along the waves, in the dark, being battered by needle-like rain drops in my face, thinking "what the hell am I doing?" before arriving at the place I was advised not to go to: Abraao.

As always, the place was better than I was led to expect and I quickly dashed to my place absolutely soaked to the bone. After a bit of confusion with the (it has to be said) very unfriendly reception guy (he showed not the slightest compassion even though I'd obviously just got off the boat soaking wet) - he would have turned me away back into the rain if I hadn't shown my booking.com confirmation email. Suddenly "Nao tenom lugar" became "here's your key, sir"

Anyway once I got in I realised practically all my clothes, but thankfully not the Surface Pro, had got soaked. No, the pousada has no hair drier or iron, so I had to create a makeshift clothes line and hang up my clothes across the room with both the AC and fan switched on.

So, having one that, I was off to explore.  To cut a long story short, I went to a bar playing BB King where I met a Spurs fan and his mate from Cape Town. Then I found what I think was the best place in town - a lively bar called the Kebab lounger - where I ended up chatting to a young married  couple from Montivideo. You can always tell a good bar, in my view, if there are people sat actually at the bar on bar stools. Bars that only have tables are not a good option when you're on your own, I find.

Several Strawberry Daquillas and a nice chicken kebab later I decided to come back here to try to dry off again.

Honestly, I quite like Abraao. Sure, it's a bit commercial but that's actually not a bad thing when it's chucking it down with rain and you just want to find somewhere to have a drink and dry off. If I was here for a week it might be different, but as usual, time planning these things is full of compromises. 

On the boat to Ilha grande

Rain drops like needles on the speedboat

Makeshift clothes line

Trendy beach bar

Obligatory Church

Algirdo
Ihla Grande

Day 39 - Sao Paulo to Paraty for the 2nd semi final

This adventure is spinning towards its end now. Today I am on my way to Paraty, tomorrow it’s Ilha Grande and then there are just three more nights back in Rio before it’s all over. The good news is that in 5 days time, I’ll be flying to California to meet my darling for another holiday in the USA for just the two of us.

To say it’s been great is an understatement. It’s definitely been the best holiday I’ve ever done on my own and although, like anything, with the benefit of hindsight I might have changed a few things, the overall experience has been far, far better than I had hoped. The same is true, of course, of the football itself. If only England had been a little sharper in defence and a little luckier in front of goal, maybe I’d be looking forward to a semi-final today between them and Argentina, rather than Holland. I suppose it’s asking too much that Germany might actually one day have a bad tournament, where their best player gets ruled out of the tournament, instead of the best player of their opponents. Or where their captain, their solid defender, gets a needless yellow card and so misses a key game, rather than Thiago Silva, but let’s not dwell on anti-German sentiment too much. Well, okay, just a bit more. I mean, really, what was so good about Germany’s display against Brazil last night? Did they do anything that was spectacular? Did any player make you gasp with a bit of brilliance? Schurrler’s, the 7^th (!), was a great finish to be fair, but apart from that it was just the usual robotic display of passing and exposing weaknesses in the defence of the other team. Those 18 minutes, where Brazil decided to commit football suicide, was the key factor. Brazil handed Germany a sword and Germany gratefully, clinically, accepted it. The lack of marking for the first was schoolboy level. For the second Cesar should have held the ball but instead pushed it straight into the path of the German striker. The 3^rd was a good finish, I suppose, but like England against Italy, where was the closing down? Cesar really should have saved it. The fourth was comical. Brasil handing the ball straight back to Germany from the kick off and contriving to open up gaps at the back as wide as a motorway. The 5^th was just shell shock as Germany did the Barcelona, tappy tappy thing.

At 28 minutes, with the score Brasil 0 Germany 5, the contest and Brasil’s World Cup dream, was already over.

I have never witnessed anything like it but the blame really has to be placed in the Brasil defence, rather than credited to Germany. I guess the proof of that will come in the final. Argentina or Holland will surely not be repeating such charity and both teams have quality of the level of Neymar to hurt Germany too. As long as Robben or Messi avoid injury (and wouldn’t it just be typical of Germany if they were) then we should see Germany given a serious test for the first time in this World Cup.

Anyway... I must say I was very impressed with Sao Paulo. As always, the prior impression the media gives you is a bad one - terrible traffic, crime etc. As always, that impression turned out to be completely false. After waking up thanks to my biological clock, rather than my mobile phone (lucky, that!) I managed to check out and be walking up the steep hill to the metro station by about ten past 7. The hotel must have had an automatic power shut down because I left my phone to charge up over night - and wake me up at 6:30, but it actually ran out of battery during the night instead. So, that could have ended up going quite badly, especially after the amount of wine I'd quaffed with Craig last night.

Anyway, no worries, as the metro trip to the bus station (the biggest in the southern hemisphere, apparently) was simple and easy - just four or five stops south on the blue line. I got my ticket nice and easy and was on the bus in good time for the trip to Paraty.

Again, the countryside in Brazil is so beautiful - verdant and hilly, lush green hues everywhere and practically everything is covered with gorgeous forest. As we approached the coast, the road got very bendy and there were some spectacular views as the bus bent to the right and the left as it crawled over the hills down towards Paraty.

I got there with two and a half hours to spare before Argentina v Holland so that was another bonus. Having got off the bus, I asked a cab driver to take me to the place and he said "Nao e longe. Cinquo minutes a pe" So, grateful, I set off to walk there. Unfortunately, my map wasn't very detailed so I had to ask again to confirm I was going in the right direction. I was - but didn't realise that at the time - and the guy who I asked sent me in completely the wrong direction. Again, it seems some Brazilians have a very poor knowledge of the places they live and/or poor map reading skills. Anyway, I asked another person who told me I was going in the wrong direction again. I ended up back at the the taxi rank and paying R$25 to go 800m to my poussada. Of course, once I knew where it was, it was easy to see how close I'd been the first time.

The guy that runs the poussada is an interesting guy - a retired project manager with some programming background in clipper, VB and TSQL. The room was really excellent again and having had a quick shower and got changed I headed off to explore.

Paraty is a beautiful place, one of the earliest (if not THE earliest) Portuguese settlements. A bit like Ouro Preto, it has a completely preserved historical centre with endless rows of cute, painted colonial style buildings. I walked around a bit and headed down to the port where I saw some beautiful boats, including one called "My Love". After that I headed back to the main touristy street where there are many bars and restaurants. I found a great spot right in front of a massive screen, next to a Dutch couple and ordered a bottle of red wine (I'm really over the bland Brasilian beer) and ordered some olives and some water.

 

Paraty is lovely

Just can't do without... My Love

Paraty Paraty

Paraty, Paraty, Paraty

Getting ready to party in Paraty

Messi means business

The match was an intense affair with defences understandably (considering last night's affair) on top. Of course, the game ended 90 minutes and then extra time still on 0-0. So, onto the inevitable penalty shoot out.

For some reason Van Gaal didn't use substitute goalkeeper Tim Krul this time (maybe he'd already used all his subs) so we didn't get a repeat of the Costa Rica match and Holland missed two key penalties to allow Argentina into the final.

Yet again, the team I wanted to win failed. So, Germany v Argentina is the final, one few people really wanted or expected. It's been a fantastic World Cup despite the fact that so many of the games have, for me personally, been very frustrating.

Oh well. During the second half there was a massive storm and so I had to tip toe through the cobbled streets to the fantastic fish restaurant I'd spotted earlier. The fish moquequa with crab sauce was superb. After that I went to another bar where a Brasilian duet performed some cool music. I had a nice caipirinha as a night cap and then staggered back to my poussada, no problem, where I hit the sack after another great day.

Algirdo

Paraty

Day 38 - Sao Paulo - home of Charles Miller (and me, for a day!) where we witnessed a World Cup massacre

Another myth shattered today: Sao Paulo is terrible to get to and travel around. I was literally in my room in Santos (very plush it was too) at 8:05 am this morning and by 10:15 am I was at my hotel in Sao Paulo, so early they had to send me away again.

I didn't quite get up in time for my early morning stroll on the beach in Santos. I do regret not doing that but, what the hell, it's a holiday so I went to breakfast instead. Another nice cheese and ham toastie three cups of coffee and lots of fruit.

The check out went smoothly and the cab came within 5 minutes. You know, with absolute certainty that here in Brasil you only have to mention something to do with football and you'll have an entertaining journey.

"Ache que Brasil vai gagnar hoje?" was all I needed to ask and the guy launched into a (no doubt) well rehearsed discussion of who he thinks will win and why. Some of it was beyond me, of course, but I think I got the gist: As a Brasilian he hopes Brasil will win, obviously, but it will be very difficult. Germany are a good team.

My own Brasilian Hexa - 6th Football Shirt bought here

Santos Streets

On the bus nice and safe and early

1st Favela on the way to Sao Paulo

Terminal - 60 minutes later

Brasilian buses are punctual, comfortable and cheap

Sao Paolo Metro is great

Arrived at my next stop

Football Museum

So everyone keeps telling me. I'm not so impressed myself. The 4-0 win against Portugal was very flattering, I thought. Ghana were unlucky not to beat them but I grant that Germany did look good... against the USA (hardly world beaters). In the round of 16, they made hard work of Algeria and in the quarter finals it was a dull, dull win against France. I thought France, like most teams, paid them too much respect.

Anyway, the taxi ride took 15 minutes so I got to the bus station with 5 minutes to spare. Despite a woman trying to make me go the wrong way (maybe she thought I still needed to buy my ticket) I got on the bus nice and easy. It set off exactly on time - as these buses always do - and after a bit of traffic getting out of Santos, the scenery transformed into surprisingly beautiful hilly forests, where Charles Miller's father must have worked when building the Santos to Sao Paolo railway in the late 19th century (alas no more).

The bus left Santos at 8:30 and it was 9:15 before I spotted my first sign of the vast metropolis of Sao Paulo - a favela on the edge of the hills. Another 15 minutes later and we were at our destination, a big bus stop in the south of the city called Jabaqueara. Try getting into London that quick!

Pele & me

Charles Miller

World Cups Gallery

Praca Charles Miller

It was a doddle to get a train to Sao Joaquim metro stop, which is five minutes walk from my hotel, Leques Brasil but although I found it ridiculously easy, considering I'd only just arrived in a city of 25 million people a few minutes earlier the room wasn't ready for me. So, I put my England shirt on (essential for where I was a heading) and off I went. I got a cab driver (I think a bit camp) to take me to Praca Charles Miller and the football museum.

After a couple of selfies of the sign itself it was into the football museum which was ok, but honestly not a patch on the one at Deepdale. The "origins" room had hundreds of nice photos of period Brasil in the later 19th and early 20th century but they completely ignored the actual ORIGIN of the game: "Made in England". 

It really is time that England, got the historical credit it deserves in World football. The museum gave credit to Charles Miller for introducing football to Brazil though, so at least that's something. The fact that the whole square is named after him, says a lot.

A lovely Brasilian girl in Belo Horizonte said something to me a few days ago. It wound me up a little at the time, but it's been niggling me ever since. She said "We will win the world cup. It is ours". Well you can't argue with five wins, I suppose, and maybe a sixth this time, but hold on, if football is anyone's, it's England's. We might not be the best in the world, but we definitely started it. That has to count for something.

The museum is more about glorifying Brazil and the World Cup than the history of the game itself, but it is definitely worth a visit.

After that I got another cab ride back here where I could get into my room and change and relax a bit.

I had a nice quick swim in the pool on the roof here and then got ready to go out and meet Craig Sharp from Perth for the Germany v Brasil semi final.

We met outside the metro station and went straight into the city to the fanfest where we got in nice and early, time for a couple of Brahmas.

Then, the match...

It's hard to know what to write about this. It has to be the most incredible result in World football ever. Here's the score: Brazil 1 Germany 7.

I repeat...

 Brazil 1 Germany 7.

Now if this was a relatively minor league game, say Gillingham v Notts County and the score had been 7-1 it would have been pretty amazing. If the home team had lost, so Gillingham 1 Notts County 7, it would have been even more amazing. If it had been a World Cup qualifier, even more amazing. A match in a group stage of a world cup, even more so. But this was the semi-final of the World Cup, one where the home team got totally slaughtered in front of their home fans and a world audience of 3 billion or so.

I can't imagine how true Brasilian football fans must feel right now. As an England fan, I know disappointment but this has to be a different order of magnitude. England never list at home 1-7. Even the Hungary humiliation was only 3-6.

Blimey.

The phrase that's comes to mind here is "nobody saw that coming" but, ironically, I know one guy who did: Jens Hirschberg posted that Germany were going to "smash" Brasil on FB before the game. So credit due to Jens there. But I really doubt even Jens had anticipated such appalling Brasilian defending. At 11 minutes it was 0-0. At 28 minutes it was 0-5. Game over. All but one of those goals was a generous, suicidal, gift.

I wish England played against teams who were bent on suicide liken that, but instead England always seem to play against teams or players who are miraculously playing at their best ever, not their worst ever.

Anyway, Craig was as shocked as I was but we were all impressed with how the Brasilians took their humiliation. After the match I tried to take Craig to a place I'd been recommended by the drunk engineer in Recife but when the taxi finally found it, it was closed. So we ended up having a rather average Mexican and shared a bottle of red wine before separating and I cam back here, still shell shocked about the football.

Craig & me in Sao Paulo

A catastrophe unfolded in 22 minutes to make Uruguay in 1950 seem trivial

Did I just witness that!?

Algirdo
Sao Paolo

Algirdo
Sao Paulo

Day 37 - Suspended in Curitiba and then onto Santos

It was probably the single most serious cock up of the tour so far. I got my ticket printed for the bus trip from Curitiba to Santos, having booked it on line months ago and only when boarding the bus did the eagle-eyed guy notice that it was the wrong date. I didn't notice. The lady who printed off the ticket didn't notice, but the guy that mattered did so that was that. I went back to the counter and she (quite rightly) said "well, you did buy the ticket" - I didn't have the wit or the Portuguese to argue that I thought I'd changed the dates months ago - so all I could do was buy another ticket for the next available bus which was in 9 hours time.

Sitting at a bus station, albeit one that is not freezing cold, is not fun by anyone's reckoning. I did consider jumping in a taxi to go to a nearby hotel but I thought really what's the point? I'm not going to get any quality sleep there anyway so I'd better just batten down the hatches and try to get some shut eye by Port V, where my bus would leave from.

Nine hours like this at Curitiba Bus Station

Finally on the bus

It wasn't all that bad in the end really. Because I am travelling light and I have all my stuff with me, a bag of clothes can easily substitute for a pillow and I used it quite well, alternating from left to right every hour to keep relatively comfortable and keep the blood flowing. The hours slipped by and two hot chocolates later, eventually I boarded the bus and got some proper shut eye.

Trying to find positivites, I did experience a lovely bus ride through Parana to Santos which I'd have missed if I'd have caught the bus first time. Brazil is so full of beautiful countryside. Secondly, when I eventually did arrive in Santos I could go straight to the hotel and check in. If plan A had happened I'd have had an awkward 7 hours to kill.

Anyway, Santos seemed like I was never going to get there but when I did I really quite fell in love with the place. It's a bit like a city on the Mediterranean with a lovely traditional football club that I was keen to explore. The main beach is really fantastic and the streets are tiled in that lovely traditional Brazilian way.

I was going to have a 5 star degustation meal at a well recommended restaurant to make up for my grotty night last night but it was closed so I just had a nice mustard steak and a few nice glasses of red to see me on my way tonight.

So, there you go. Not the best day ever, and certainly the worst morning on the holiday so far, but it all spun round lovely in the end.

Tomorrow i'm going to get up for a quick walk on the beach, have breakfast and then bomb off to Sao Paola for the first semi final: Germany v Brazil.

Please let it be Brazil.

Algirdo
Santos