Beyond Bonito

Miranda´s heart, our Pantanal exit point.

We stayed a day too long in Bonito, kicking our heels for a day around the town and hostel, where no-one spoke English or even Spanish.

Hostel Beija Flor

Nice church, town square

Cat call (we couldn´t think of a better caption)

Town Square. Looked better at night, lit up and with the fountain switched on

Bonito was nice enough for an off-season tourist hub, but was hot and pretty unnspiring overall.

Our bus left fifteen minutes ´late´ (ie on time in Brazil) and arrived too late for our connection to Campo Grande. Ominously, the heavens had opened and we feared being stranded and out of pocket at a leaky bus stop. Fortunately, the connection arrived twenty minutes late too, so all was well.


Back in scruffy Campo Grande again, we stayed over at the Nacional Hotel. It was straight out of the 1970s Eastern Bloc, with a nice shade of battleship grey gloss in the room.

Kim had lost her new Havaianas enroute and we had to suffer cold showers and another tri-lingual wire-crossing with reception over the room tarrif, so it was all a bit gloomy.

Hotel Nacional. Not such a lovely place. 

After a huge breakfast (the Nacional´s saving grace) it was back to the rodoviaria for the Sao Paulo bus.

Even that was a bit strange, with an oddball in the gents repeatedly playing Total Eclipse of the Heart and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun between other 80s faves on his ghetto blaster.

'Weird' Al Yankovic, Time After Time... after time after time...

We spotted the Pet Shop Boys and Meat Loaf with Cher at the coffee shop, and it was all quite surreal until the bus finally arrived.

Left to their own devices.

Dead Ringers at the diner.

At grey and wet Sao Paulo next morning we negotiated a rush hour metro (something I was actually good at, for once) to Teite, our final boarding point for Paraty and paradise...?

Could be Clapham on a wet Monday morning.

Bus stop, North by North West.