Brazilian Caribbean

After saying goodbye to Maragogi, it was clear: next stop, Brazil's Caribbean. Sounds great, right? Well, it wasn't at first. The first beach? Well. More like a cacophony of local noise blasting from 5,000-watt cars. But 20 minutes of walking later: Boom. Palms like from a commercial, hardly anyone around, the ocean stretching to the horizon, everything so quiet that you can almost hear your brain finally winding down.

Evenings: Pasta. Or what was left of it, because: holiday. Everything closed. Carbonara with young Edam - a flavor declaration of war. No matter, we celebrated it like a three-star menu. The pool and terrace took care of the rest – reading, lounging, living.

Mornings then: 8 AM (!) yoga on the beach, sports, swimming in the middle of the ocean. Who are we suddenly? In Germany, I would have barely managed my first coffee by then. Then we headed towards Salvador, stopping at a motel with a view of the river, sunset deluxe. A quick visit to the shaky gym, Caipi in hand – and bam, another unforgettable day.

On the way to Salvador, there was another little highlight of the “light adventure vacation” category: a river, no bridge, just a ferry – and one that looks like it was cobbled together from spare parts of Mad Max. Six cars fit on it, but only if everyone holds their breath. Between the bumpers? Room for a single sheet of paper – sideways. Maybe. Still: no choice. Close your eyes and go for it.

Of course, all of this involves hands, feet, and wild gesticulating, because Portuguese still sounds like a song you can't sing along to. But somehow it works. It always does. Brazil manages it. In its own, wonderfully chaotic way.