Trip Start Feb 03, 2010
27Trip End Apr 15, 2010
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We got off the bus into blackness and made our way to a little port, hoped a boat and set sail for the island of marie. On the boat I took stock of my fellow travelrs. There was a group of 6 israily girls and a israily cople. I comented to myself that it was odd to find two israily traveling groops on the same boat but would soon find out how likey that fact really was.
The island of Marie sanpowlow rose up out of the water, on a boat you can never tell If the next spot of land is your spot of land or Just another bit of scenary braking the water. But this one was ours. The boat pulled up to a long stretched jetty and we climed out. Asailed by "taxis", men with weal barrows and strong mucles that offer to run your luggage were you need it to go at a toristicly hi price of corse. I had started chating to the israily cople and we decided to find a place to stay together.
As I walked through the town I started to notices that instead of menuse carminly mistranslated into English they were instead scrawled in backwards messy handrighting in Hebrew. The slanting reverent lettering rewritten through the lens of incomprehention seemed out of place next to the parmtrees and cristal waters. But every were I looked I saw more and more islraily flages and ledgens riten on walls. It terns out that mari san powlow is a refuge for the masses of israilys that set off traveling after there national serves. They have hily developed websights devoted to calling attention to israily friendly places and mari san powlow is right up there in the top 5 of places post army isrialys go.
We found a place and settled in. the cople I was with were intresting and full of information about the culter they came from. We chopped up perspectives for most of the first day, swung in the hammock and crunched through the plentifull supply of deepfrid snakes the Brazilians seem to love so mutch. The mail contingences of the israily cople was half Brazilian so it was his knolage of local food that we reliyed upon. it made for some intresting meals as the guy loved everthing edible was always on the hunt. I tried more local dishes in those three days than I did on the rest of my trip.
The following day we set off to see some sights. We were going to book into a boat trip when the hevens were rent open and the sky fell in with rain. Instead we got back to our hammock and swung the afternoon away watching the most dramatic lightning storm I had seen yet. The room looked out onto the sea so we had a 180 degree vew of the ocean as it was bombarded by lighting.
The following day with the sun out we set of to do some snorcoling. We took out a coano and set of for some rocks off the coast. There we tied up our coanos to a little post sticking out of a expansive shallow plane of green algy. The water was waist deep and under foot was just a feld of green carpet, the shallowness of the watter ment that it was as warm as you could ever want it. On the island we sat back and drank a bit. Si had of corse brought some food. Chips and some Brazilian sorce for them. We drank quanana a beautifull soft drink that's like sprite but softa and more refreshing.
After that we pushed out of shore and snorcled around beond the green feald of algy. Soon though the clouds roled in and we made a dash for our coanos. Padeling back with the current was easy so we made good time and were back in our hammocks before the thunder was craking.
That night, after drinking, si pulled out his harmonica and began to play. I listend for some time with the rain beating down onto the half rofe cover our hammock. As I listend lyrics started to come to me and we sang one of those songs that is simply sublime at the time but, if recorded, is embarrassingly na´ve. But the moment was beautifull and we sat there sining to the sound of sis harmonica for a long time into the storm.
On our last night I gave si my copy of the beach. I felt like a lot of the things he said had cropped up in the book to. I wrote a little half joke about singing in the rain on the back page and handed it to him with a little shy embarisment. Something about traveling is that you only ever pic up what you will eventually put down and I was sad to leave them. I knew that it was all part of traveling and that I had been expecting an end but still it was oddly sad.
The last night we had a petza together (our most expensive meal for a long time) and, after finishing, walked into the sea. We had been plaining it for a while but it felt good to acualy do it. The water was so warm that it could never be uncoftable and on this particular night the sea was very still. We all lent back and stretched out into a floting postion. There we bobed along eyes fixed up. I havenet found a better place to watch the stars from in a long time.
We parted in savadore. They had a plain and I had a hostle. There was little ceremony , a hug a smile and an email with the promis of pictures (my camra sadly having given up the fight). And I whent off back to my hostel.
Still little israil was lovely and would gladly go back, though next time I think I will bring a hebruew frais book.