Ponta Trombinha

I wake again at just after 530 as i am desperate to watch a sunrise, but yet again the rain is in and the only thing i can see is grey clouds, however i could easily get used to waking up to this view every morning. We grab a quick breakfast as the taxi will be here in a few minutes. We arrive at the bus station and board the bus for the short journey to Camamu. As soon as we step of the bus there are lots of people trying to sell us the boat crossing and as im saying no Mark has agreed with a guy who now has hold of our rucksacks marching us across the road and then wants paying for carrying our bags 50 ft . When i ask Mark what hes said he has no idea and the woman has to go through it all again with me. The boat leaves in 40 minutes so we have a quick ciggie and wait to board the bus. The town here looks really pretty but once again is going through a lot of building work ready fot the many tourists that will flow through here in the next few years. We board the boat and its like a speed boat we are flying but the rain is pouring in and as everyone is closing there windows we come to an abrupt stop. The captain ( the best looking captain ive ever seen and youngest) climbs on the roof gives something a bang and climbs back in the boat and were off again. We arrive on Barra Grande 40 minutes later but its still pouring. We sit in the little shelter waiting for the rain to break a little before we set off to find the hostel. We have to stop half way there to take shelter but the rain doesnt last long and as we round the corner our hostel is right in front of us, we stay here for a little while until the rain passes and then head out for a little while, Mark is a little wound up over the football but i decide to take some time out before he comes to find me as noone here speaks English so im the only one who can find us a bar to watch the game. I ask a guy at a restaurant in centro and he walks us round to the bar. The owners name is Bahia and he supports Bahia football team, serving us with a shot of his home made cachasa. Its literally a little shack on the street. We watch the game here on a telly i used to have 20 odd years ago. The locals become a little disturbed when Mark starts shouting obsceneties at the telly they ask him questions in Portuguese and he keeps nodding and saying Si hes probably right as the only thing they can be saying is how badly were playing. We finish watching the game and head back to the room with every intention of going out for something to eat, but i lye on the bed and wake up at 5 this morning.Read more