Bad Case of Wanderlust (My Trip Around the World): Buzios, Days 1-2 (Jan 3rd & 4th)

My bus to Buzios left late and got stuck in rush hour traffic, so we were already running an hour and a half behind when we inexplicably stopped for food less than halfway to our destination. Well, not so inexplicably. Apparently, even on bus journeys of only 3 hours, Brazilian bus drivers are entitled to 30-minute breaks somewhere in the middle. While at our stop, the bus driver tried to flirt with me, asking me to let him know if there was anything I needed. It was all I could do not to reply, "Yeah, I need for us to get back on the damn bus and get moving!" Fortunately, once we proceeded onward, it was a smooth and pretty trip.

It took me a few minutes to find my hostel once I had jumped off the bus, but when I did, I was greeted warmly and shown a tiny four-girl dorm. One of my roommates, a Brazilian named Maria, invited me out to dinner with her and her friends before I had even opened my bag, and I accepted enthusiastically.

Maria had come to Buzios with six of her friends, all coworkers in a federal attorney's office in Sao Paulo. I spent most of the evening with her and one other girl, Ana, with whom I spoke Spanish. We had a great time discussing our jobs, families, and travel experiences, and of course men and cultural differences. ;)

My favorite moment came when I tried to explain the reason for my hospital stay in Cuzco, and Maria said, "Oh, yes! Blood clot!!" I looked at her with surprise. "How is it that you're struggling to find some common English phrases, but you know 'blood clot'?" She grinned ear to ear, "'House'!" I had forgotten that "House" is one of the two television programs I have heard mentioned almost exclusively on this trip, and as far as I can tell, it must be the most popular show on the planet. (The other is "The Wire", which is rightfully praised by almost all Brits as the greatest television show of all time. You should see the look of glee spread across their faces when I tell them I'm from Baltimore.)

Anyway, after a delicious meal at Restaurant Davide, where we all split two whole fish and a number of side dishes, we went for a decadent treat at Mil Frutas, where I had the best pistachio gelato I've found outside of Rome. Still not quite equal to my grandmother's homemade strawberry ice cream, but perhaps a close second. We then walked along the waterfront and stopped into a bar, but my inability to stifle yawns despite the excellent company forced me to head back to the hostel. My head hit the pillow, and I was out.

The following morning, I actually got a good look at the stunning setting of the hostel.

Perched on Rua de Piedra, the street closest to the beach, Nomads Buzios featured a stunning view of to the beach, with direct access down a short flight of stairs.

The staff served breakfast in the glass-walled bar area, overlooking the water, and most people took their portions out to the deck chairs to enjoy the sun as they ate. While piling my plate with fruit and cheese, I ran into Francisco, an Argentinian I had met briefly but seen often at my hostel in Rio. We reintroduced ourselves and chatted for a while.

Afterward, I went out into the town of Buzios and took care of a few errands before packing up a small bag and heading for the beach-- stopping for an acai on the way, of course.

I hopped a collectivo and went to Geriba, the beach most people seem to cite as their favorite on Buzios. I spent the slightly overcast day sunbathing, reading, people-watching, swimming, and, predominantly, napping. When I my ivory skin had had enough, I packed up and walked the couple of miles back to the hostel. Along the way, I picked up one of the gorgeous butter-colored flowers I had seen strewn across so many Brazil streets and pressed it into my notepad as a souvenir.

That evening, I sat out on the deck with Francisco, his friend Santiago, and Ana, discussing all manner of topics and reverting to English only where absolutely necessary.

Although we couldn't see the sun itself, we took in the candy-colored sky it left in its wake as we made our preparations for the night.

We decided to all go to dinner together: the Brazilians, the Argentinians, and me. But first we had a few near-perfect capirinihias concocted by the hostel's barman, while a fire dancer performed for us on the beach below.

Realizing a bit late that finding a table for twelve people presented quite a challenge we split into two groups. Ana, Maria, Santi, Francisco, two of the other girls, and I had dinner at an Italian spot that confirmed my commitment to eating only local food when I travel, but the conversation made up for the mediocre fare. As we left, capoeira dancers performed in the street outside the restaurant.

Afterward, the girls went to a club, and I went with the boys for a drink at a lovely bar on the beach, where a local serenaded the patrons with Seu George songs. We wandered around the boardwalk a bit, had a few more drinks at another bar, and called it a night.