Florianopolis – a beautiful magical island
Florianopolis is a pretty massive island that holds a large city, tens of smaller towns and hundreds of beaches. As a result, we decided to split our time into two different areas, Lagoa as it’s known for its nightlife, is centrally located and still closish to three of the nicest ‘Floripa’ beaches. The second half would be on the south coast in the quiet town of Açores, where our accommodation was only a stones throw from the beach.
The well-known island is a hot spot for tourists in the summer months, despite this, we found accessing it via public transport from just up the coast convoluted. We had to first catch a public bus to a larger town with a bus terminal, from there we took a coach that dropped us just across the bridge at Florianopolis’ main bus station where we boarded another public bus to Lagoa. Our first bus out of the Bombinhas peninsula had a cracked window that was shedding glass every time the bus was jolted. The driver had given it a quick once over when we initially boarded but continued along the route to the bemusement of the passengers who warned all newcomers to avoid sitting in that area. After a few too many potholes the driver had to pull over to try and fix the situation. He grabbed a small rag and pushed the glass little by little out of its pane, consequently, fragments fell all over the inside of the bus and out into the road. After a hasty sweep and gaffer tape to cordon off a couple seats as the window was still lined with shards, we were back on the road. Only in Brazil.
After the literal paradise of Bombinhas, Lagoa was a bit of a mood dampener. It took so much effort to get there, was overcast when we arrived and the stinky shoreline had an ambient noise of continuous metal-on-metal bangs from a machine hammering pier supports into the bed of the lagoon. The town was along the main route that separated the city on the west from the coast on the east which led to constant traffic through the centre. After dropping off our bags we explored along the road in the direction of the coast and came across an expansive area of sand dunes. We walked across them for a while as it was actually pretty cool and an unexpected find being so central, despite gusts of wind whipping sand into every nook and cranny.
To make our moods worse, the hostel didn’t have a kitchen so we were forced to get food out. We found a very cheap spot with several different vendors where I had a tasty burrito and Gayds got something that came with hummus which she’d been craving for weeks. Whilst walking back, samba beats filled the air and we followed the noise to a little square where several locals armed with instruments were practising. Due to the amount of musicians, sections were instructed by different conductors, all of which were controlled by one main orchestrator. It was fascinating to see the separate parts come together and we weren’t the only ones to think this as a group formed to watch with a few shaking hips to the melodic drums and whistles.
The hostel had breakfast included due to the lack of a kitchen, so we woke early to eat and managed to sneakily make sandwiches for lunch too. The back of the hostel had a majestic view of the lagoon which was very calming and with the unexpected finds from the day before, our perception of the area was changed somewhat. We’d decided to do a pretty massive walk to the three ‘nearby’ beaches, firstly Praia Mole (Soft Beach), a surfing beach named after the unbelievably soft sand. We didn’t swim due to the ferocious waves and red flags along the shore indicating the presence of rip currents. Next was the secluded Praia Gravatá, accessible only by walking up and descending a steep hill. The sea was calm enough here for a swim and we dried on the grassy bank and munched our pre-prepared lunch. The final beach, Praia Joaquina, was another trek but was probably the nicest of the day, however, by the time we arrived we were tired and hungry and it was getting cold. We quenched our thirst with a can from a beach kiosk and walked back where we passed the other side of the dunes from the day before. We looked to see if we could cut a corner off the hike, but quickly realised it was a stupid idea with how difficult it was to walk up and down the dunes and how sandy we got previously.
We journeyed back and passed a fence that was displaying different graffiti art. A cartoon earth riding a surfboard giving the message: “You never know” particularly resonated with me in a laid-back way as the unpredictability of life and the beauty that can come from it is something we are experiencing often at the moment in all parts of our travelling.
That evening we experienced a taste of nostalgia as we ended up in a brewery for dinner. I ordered a New Zealand Pale Ale reminding us hugely of the many craft beers we’d had over the years travelling Oceania. It was a cool hangout for the evening where we planned a route down to the south of the island for the following morning.
All south Brazilian public buses have a turnstile at the front to access the seating area behind. While the locals tap their travel cards to unlock it, we pay the driver who buzzes us through but it’s always a nightmare with our massive backpacks catching when they’re forced through the tight walkway. Luckily neither of the two buses were that busy so we could spread out a little before disembarking at the line’s last stop near our accommodation.
I was hesitant to book the Airbnb at first as it was just a room in a host’s house, however, when we turned up, it was obvious he rented out multiple rooms, making it less intense and more like a hostel or share house. The town itself was quaint, you could see it was sleepy as no houses had the signature Brazilian security of high fences and barbed wire. Our accommodation was especially lovely with a pretty rose-coloured house and a lush, cared-for garden. In Brazil, I’ve noticed there isn’t much of an emphasis on feng shui or making things look nice. We have been staying in the cheapest possible accommodation but even still, everywhere we’ve stayed prioritises function much more than any form of decoration, for example, a white room with just a bed and bedside table. This is replicated everywhere, like the botecos, where even the most popular favour tacky-looking plastic tables and chairs. Despite this, the atmosphere is always great with extremely approachable locals, hosts and waiters. It does make a nice change though to stay somewhere that’s made an effort to look as beautiful as the natural surroundings.
Our host Alexandre was a chill guy, his English was pretty good and he owned a massive Harley Davidson that he rode to work in the mornings. He told us he liked the tranquillity of the area and spent a lot of time working on the house and garden and relaxing in the hammock or down at the beach. He created a very welcoming atmosphere in his home and was friendly but not overbearing. As we were leaving he very kindly and unexpectedly gifted us a pen that had been designed and made by a local indigenous tribe.
Staying in another room at the Airbnb was an Irish guy called Cohul. He’d been travelling Brazil for a couple of months and worked as a DJ, mostly producing an online radio show but also trying to get gigs anywhere he could. He chatted a lot of shite and held some interesting and weird outlooks on life but was always positive which was pretty refreshing. He’d lived the last seven years in Vietnam so it was intriguing to hear about how he’d funded long-term travel by DJing, something he loved doing and was productive with. Countering that, he had booked flights home from Brazil after blowing through all of his savings within a few weeks and was talking of going back to a job selling search engine optimisation with his cousin. Maybe not too inspiring.
A short walk along the nearby beach was a waterfall we’d heard about from Cohul. We set off to visit the next morning, expecting it to be rammed with locals on a warm Saturday. Not having read too much about it, we followed the cachoeira signs and arrived at a waterfall which plunged into an empty, crystal-clear pool. We jumped in and got an instant feeling of ridiculous refreshment that continued as we swam and bathed in the clean water. The setting was made even more amazing by a family of marmosets that swung through the trees around us as we dried keeping a watchful eye on our movements. On the way out, two impressive toucans swept through the forest in front of us and sat proudly for a few minutes within view amongst the trees.
That evening, with limited options, we decided to cook a veggie curry. Extractor fans are another thing that do not exist in Brazil, so we felt terrible as a curry powder stench lingered around the whole house for the rest of the evening.
One of the reasons we came to the south was to visit one of the nicest beaches on Florianopolis, Praia Lagoinha do Leste. Another walking-only access beach that takes an hour and a half to reach; it was a sweaty walk in the midday sun (what’s our problem) where we again saw marmosets amongst the trees. I went to get my phone from my bag for a photo causing one to swing towards us in the hope of a food offering. Gayds, becoming the mum of the situation declared “Right that’s it, we’re leaving” and we moved on to not disturb the wild animals any further. We arrived at the hottest point of the day and sought protection in the cramped shade from a few trees in one corner of the beach. It lived up to the reputation and was a literal paradise with white sand and pristine waters surrounded by vibrant rainforest. After a couple hours of relaxing, we hiked up a large hill that overlooked the beach and the swirling lagoon behind it. As we climbed up, the rocks got bigger and steeper making the ascent a little precarious but the views at the top were 100% worth it. Gayds however had a mini meltdown at how high we were and the sheer drop below, she shouted at me for wanting to get a better view but I just told her not to look and clambered (without any danger) down to a ledge where it would’ve been a sick picture if Gayds wasn’t such a pussy. She always manages to get better pics of me than I do of her though so she can be forgiven for this one.
Back at the bottom and our legs were shaking like a shitting dog, Gayds’s from the adrenaline, mine from the harsh descent on my gammy knee. We still had 1.5 hours and another big climb to get back which we managed thanks to the promise of a delicious açai bowl in the small beach town at the start of the trail. Açai is another thing I should’ve had more often as it’s so sweet, refreshing and quenching. No doubt packed with sugar like everything in Brazil, but with granola, strawberry and condensed milk(?) toppings, it did the trick perfectly to energise me for the final leg back.
That evening there was a huge storm and we sat under the veranda to watch the tropical rain, thunder and lightning. Again we were leaving the area wishing we’d extended another night but Alexandre advised he was booked up and everywhere else was a little expensive. As a result, we did change our plans to include another stop along the Santa Catarina coast in Praia do Rosa, rather than continuing straight down to Brazil’s southernmost city, Porto Alegre.
The bus north to the Florianopolis coach terminal was super busy and required us to squeeze into the same narrow seat with one big backpack on our laps, one in the aisle and the smaller two stuffed in the little remaining space. We were lucky to even get seats at all but had an uncomfortable hour and a half being crushed.
