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Frankieboy’s Travel Diary

Thursday, 15 Jan 2009

Location: Brazil

MapThursday 15th Jan 2009

I decided to do the boat tour as advertised in the hostel. I’m sure the itinerary included the islands just off the coast of Rio which sounded good to me. Unfortunately the only guys I’d got to know in the hostel, Nick and Andrew and co, had buggered off so I was back to Billy no mates.

Waiting in the reception for the tour to start I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. It could have been a very long day if the people on board had not been OK. I got chatting in reception to a couple of nice Irish girls who were going and it turned out that they were flying back to Heathrow on the same flight. Bonus – cheap taxi!

We got a taxi to the marina and boarded “Beethoven”. We were welcomed on board with deafeningly loud reggae music which seems to be ‘de rigeur’ for these sorts of things. I got chatting to Ben a nice lad also from the West Midlands (Wolverhampton) coincidentally. Being the pessimistic bastard that I am I was fully expecting to be Billy no mates talking to myself but ended up getting to know some good people.

Predictably, it followed the normal boat party pattern – everyone starts off very politely in the “How do you do?” fashion, usual trite conversations, and gradually descended into (in correlation with the consumption of capirinhas) silly leg dancing – or was that just me?

The route that the boat took was disappointing - not that it detracted from what turned out to be a bloody good laugh. We went no where near these beautiful islands. We did get to see some very nice oil tankers though. We anchored in a bay where everyone started to jump off the side and have a swim. The dirty water was not particularly inviting and the floating litter did not add to its appeal. It was very hot though so I thought sod it and dived head first off the top deck which was fairly terrifying. I was rewarded with a nice mouthful of very salty Rio sea water which I swallowed. I then started retching which must have looked super cool. I decided to jump again and on the second attempt cocked up the trajectory and did a rather impressive belly flop.

I was amused to see the same girl I’d tried to pull at the favela funk party on board the boat. At this favela funk party I’d been dancing with this girl at this party and thought I was doing well until she mysteriously buggered off without warning. I’m sure it had nothing to do with me I kept telling myself. I’d recounted this tale to the Irish girls and Ben who thought that I should go over to her and try my luck again as she was standing by herself looking at the view. I reluctantly gave in and went over and approached her. It went fairly well and I offered to buy her a drink and headed to the bar. By the time I’d got back from the bar some poxy bastard had already started chatting to her. I later found it was an Israeli guy staying at the hostel.

Back with Ben and the Irish girls we all watched this Isreali guy chat her up which concluded in him sickeningly getting off with her. I was tempted to hurl myself over the side of the boat but being uncharacteristically philosophical, I found the whole thing quite funny.

By about 6pm everyone on board was roaringly drunk. I was waving and dancing at other ships passing by and got many a wave back. It was only a matter of time before I started teaching everyone the LFLD (legendary Frank leg dance) which like the capirinhas, went down rather well. When “Stayin Alive” came on the PA someone had the brainwave of combining the LFLD with the standard John Travolta pointing dance and thus it evolved into something truly remarkable.

I got back to hostel somehow. I have a vague recollection of going on the internet (probably embarrassing myself horrendously) before passing out.