Day Six: Land of the Wheelbarrows

Morro de Sao Paulo is a place where dressing up consists of wearing a T-shirt with sleeves. This village occupies the northern tip of Ihla de Tinhare, and instead of roads there are sandy tracks, in which wheelbarrows marked "taxi" perform the function of lorries, taking freight - toilet rolls, crates of lager, tourists' luggage - to the businesses around the village.

This keeps the natives incredibly fit, and given that most of the visitors are Brazilian, it means everyone seems to possess a bronzed set of abs. This is despite breakfast here consisting of three courses: fruit, bread and cake.

The unusual means of transport means the busiest man in the village is the wheelbarrow repair man, who has a pile of forlorn-looking wheelies stacked up outside his smithy.

I could go on about the beautiful beaches and great seafood (there hasn't been much sunshine) but I've heard it has snowed in the UK this week, so I wouldn't stoop so low. And besides, although you can derive much pleasure from such things, it's funny how my moments of utter contentment come in more unlikely experiences - handwashing the underwear, packing the rucksack, or exchanging a few words with a 10-year-old.

THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW BEFORE TODAY:
Pale English people glow on Brazilian beaches
Lying in a hammock is tiring

MORE PICS:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/14099398@N00/sets/72157623267909135/