Big Island and Big Dreams

To get away from things for a few days, we took a trip to Ilha Grande (EEL-ya GRUN-jee) for a few days.  Ilha Grande, which translates to "Big Island," has made it onto the list of places I have visited that I could envision myself living in.  There are not too many places on this list, you should know.  (The only one I can think of right now is the town of Annecy in the French Alps.)  And truthfully, we have both been able to live in some beautiful places.  Still, there is always room to dream, right?  Well, we stayed on Ilha Grande in the town of Abraão.  The town has only a few packed-dirt streets lined with pousadas, or inns, restaurants, and tour companies offering boat excursions for divers and sightseers.  Yes, it is indeed a town that depends heavily on tourism, but it is a cute town.  There are so many birds singing and flitting about in the early morning, you would think they owned the place. 



View of Abraao from our hike.


 One of my favorite parts about this island, besides the mountainous rainforest that comes down to the beach, the lapping waves, the fruit juices on the beach, and the monkeys with striped squirrelly tails, is that there is not a single car around.  People get around by boat, bicycle, or on foot.  Thus, there are footpaths you can take to get to other parts of the island.  One day, Z, our friend A, and I hiked three hours to a beach on the other side.  Every so often, we would come to a beautiful, serene, beach, thinking we had arrived.  Then, we would realize that this couldn't be the place because none of the other tourist hikers whom had passed us were there.  Z and A seemed somewhat content to stay at those beaches, but I urged them to continue so we could reach our destination.  So, we trudged on.  When we finally reached Lopes Mendes beach, we knew we were there:  there must have been fifty to a hundred people all along the two-kilometer stretch of sand.  Being on the Atlantic side of the island, roaring waves crashed on shore, creating a playground for surfers.  I was unable to relax with the wind and noise of the waves, so I was ready to head back to one of the quieter beaches.  (I know, even after pushing the others to move on-- am I ever satisfied?)  After eating a high-priced but delicious tuna salad sandwich we bought from a man who had carried them from Abraao, we decided to start hiking back.  A stayed behind, planning to take a boat back, while Z and I put one foot in front of the other to get back to Abraão. 



Walking through the gate of the Ilha Inn, our pousada.



I admit my mind started getting carried away with dreams.  I started picturing myself on the island.  I could work at the local school, plant a church, or work in a restaurant.  Maybe I could have an eco-tour company to teach tourists about the local plants and animals.  We could raise our children up to be island people who walk barefoot through the forest and take a canoe to school!  Z, however, was not on board with the idea.  "It's too far away for me to go see a professional soccer game," he lamented.  "I will go stir-crazy on this island."  My island bubble burst before me.  But, but…how will I ever realize my dream? I thought.  (By the way, we would need a work visa to do any of these things, too, may I remind myself.)  It took a couple days, but I finally came back to reality and the understanding that my marriage is much more important to me than living in a coastal rainforest.  Besides, we do have a sweet compromise in Rio de Janeiro, living next to a nature preserve and a boat ride from the beach, yet in a large metropolis to fulfill Z's craving for action.  Thank you, Lord, for providing us everything we need here in Rio, and for a loving husband who planned a vacation to Ilha Grande, a place he knew I would love for its rustic, natural beauty.  I am content.