Experience Parody? Make that Parati

 Often in setting up a competition the promoters seek parody between contestants so that the level of competition is maximized. Today, the daily bulletin “Currents”, published each day on board and delivered directly to each stateroom, proclaimed, “Experience Paroti,” the Brazilian community tucked away in a large yet shallow harbor. I’m not sure that anyone would rate Paroti as “unequaled” in any category other than remoteness. The harbor is dotted with any number of islands, most big enough only for a single dwelling. Apparently the government realized that the remote location, combined with the fact that travel between the individuals who call this home, made the ownership of these islands would quickly go to wealthy foreigners, so they declared them Nationalized. That is to say that ownership was available only to local persons. Most of the locals were not financially capable of purchasing an island, given the income typical of fishermen. So the wealthy who sought to build a wonderful summer home struck a deal with a willing fisherman. He (the fisherman) would be given adequate funds to buy the desired island in his name. In exchange, the shadow-land owner would build a beautiful home where they could spend the summer in seclusion, and hire the fisherman and his family to wait on them hand and foot while they were present and, presumably, house sit for them when they were not present.

So as we awoke this morning we found the Marina anchored at considerable distance from the pier. The “tender” boats that were to transport those who wished to go ashore were to make a 45 minute run to the pier. But something went wrong and the whole system suffered a melt down. My excursion was to be a “Paroti Islands by schooner.” We were to meet at the pier (45 minutes away) at 12:20. I thought that I’d go ashore early and look around while waiting for the schooner to set sail. So I went down to catch a tender at about 10:50. There was already a line formed from the 4th level “gate,” up the grand stairway to the 5th level when I arrived. The line continued to build and never moved for an hour. They apparently had trouble (again?) with the tenders because a much larger local boat finally showed up to haul all of the passengers ashore. After arrival, we disembarked and were separated based on which excursion we had purchased (some we’re doing a tour of the town, while the rest of us headed down another pier to the “schooner.”

I put “schooner” in quotes because the vessel fit the definition technically, but not aesthetically. The dictionary defines a schooner as “ a sailing ship with two or more masts, typically with the foremast smaller than the mainmast, and having gaff-rigged lower masts.” This pretty much matches what I had envisioned but, again, what isn’t stated is the key. You may have noticed that the definition says nothing about sails, only masts. I had pictured a wonderful adventure on a course dictated partially by the wind. Our schooner had two masts, but was propelled by a large, noisy, diesel engine.

We pulled away from the pier at 12:50, two hours after I had gotten in line for an “early departure” from the ship.

Our first stop was at a beach, the reaching of which required that we go back the way we came, past the Marina, and pull into a small section of sandy beach on a peninsula at the head of the bay. Upon dropping anchor about 50 yards off shore (I would give that in meters but I don’t know the conversion factor for metric measurement of sea water) we were told that we could either swim to shore, in which case we could jump off the left side of the ship, stay on the “schooner,” or go down a ladder on the right side to a rubber inflatable raft fitted with an old, well used, 40 hp Mercury outboard motor.

During the summer the beach is served by a few local restaurant ears. But summer ended last week, so everything was closed.

Getting into and out of a rubber raft wasn’t as easy as it was 20-30 years ago

I took off shoes and socks (I forgot to wear my sandals!) and waded ashore from the raft. I was about to stick my feet in the second ocean in six months!

We walked along the sandy beach, getting feet wet and looking at the residents…

… like this little guy. I’m hoping that one of our bird loving friends can tell me what bird this tiny guy is. ASI walked along the beach spotted something I had never seen before - a crab walking on sand. It was hilarious and looked like an animated figure. He was holding his body up off the sand with his claws pointing straight down, acting as tip-toes, moving him very rapidly across the sand sideways. Before I could point and shoot my camera he dove into a hole in the sand! It was hilarious!

We were told we would be at the beach for 1/2 hour, but “in Brazilian time that’s about 40 minutes.” When it was time to leave our captain blew a loud whistle and we all returned to the boat.

Our second stop was just around the corner but without a beach. Anyone that wanted to could swim off the port side, but no one was to enter the water off the starboard side. After a couple guests got in the water the crew threw some food in the water to attract the fish, and dozens of fish showed up for lunch.

Those are actually live fish swimming around next to the people.

This may look like a rock with a large horizontal crack but it is actually a camouflaged storage bin where they store the snorkeling equipment. No it’s not, I made that up.
So that was to be our last stop but, true to form, it wasn’t. We sailed 45 minutes, back past the ship, to get to the pier, so that we could transfer to another boat to take us back out to the ship!  And believe it or not, about 15 minutes into the final leg of our journey, the engine quit and we sat, dead in the water. While the four man crew tore off the engine housing and went below, I, in an attempt to entertain those around me, offered a few lines of encouragement:

1) We have nothing to worry about until they bring out the oars. (Which, ironically, they did, but just as a joke)

2) I hear they are filming a sequel to Gillian’s Island.

3) They’ve called for the Brazilian Olympic 8-man rowing team to tow us back to the ship