Firstly, apologies for strange characters and typos in this post - I am typing on a Portuguese keyboard in an internet cafe. Secondly apologies for getting my days messed up. Yesterday was day 19 and today is day 20 I think.With a few days' break before my next match, Friday's quarter final between France v Germany in Rio (should be tasty!) I have taken the opportunity to have a couple of days of proper rest & relaxation. As a result, I find myself on an island called "Ilha Grande" which means "Big Island". It's about 16km from one end to the other, and is about 100km south of Rio, in the sea.To get there is used Green Toad Bus reservations to book a return to the island from Rio, which is a minibus then ferry package complete for about US$90, not unreasonable as it's a fair way to drive and then a 45 minute ferry crossing. The minibus also picks up from each passenger's location which sounds all very good until you figure out that you are going to spend the next 2 hours driving around Rio with the driver trying to find strangely located hostels that the majority of my new travelling companions were staying in (lots of beards in evidence).Once the rather tortuous pickup was complete (honestly it would have been much easier to have two main meeting points) the driver commenced a significant increase in manic driving style as we hurtled onto the highway. The minibus was air conditioned so nice and cool - a bit chilly in fact - and somehow it received live TV so the 14 of us watched one team play against another, though it was difficult to tell which so blocky was the video compression being used. Anyway, this distracted us from the idiotic driving which was good.After racing through what seemed like endless suburbs, and I use the word "suburb" as an exaggeration as the areas were effectively flat favelas and very poor-looking, for a good hour or so, he swung into a service station at speed as though his life depended on it. He then started babbling to us in Portuguese, at which point everyone on the bus realised that nobody spoke Portuguese at all and all the passengers were from England, Australia or New Zealand! Oh how we laughed. Anyway we think he meant that we could take a loo break which was good news for all concerned. The service station was fairly nice by the way, with clean loos and the usual addative laced stodge to buy. Luckily I had bought some of my own stodge from my local cafe before the journey.As you can tell, I can´t really recommend Green Toad buses or the actual minibus company who I think are called Easy Transfer. Still - you pays your money and it was cheap.After further protracted hurling of the minibus into blind bends through the mountains we emerged surprisingly unscathed as a small seaside village which I've decided is called Cantaglo. Bit difficult to tell but that's the nearest place name I can find. After some hanging around watching the remainder of the football, a guide came up and told us in English that he was our guide, and that we should accompany hom to the ferry (or "barque") which had just arrived. I thought I had a photo of it but it seems not. Imagine a colourful wooden 70 foot long double-decked boat and you're there. It looked pretty seaworthy and there were lots of life jackets, my only thought was whether my Peli case would float or not. I decided it wouldn't but that everything was insured (I only have my A7R and RX100 with me - I didn't think the situation merited a brace of 1Ds and a 400 2.8).After plodding along at for 45 minutes in what seemed like reverse we docked at the tiny town of Vila do Abraao on Ihla Grande. I gave in at this point. It is spectacular. There are no cars or roads on the island. Vila do Abraao is the main settlement and is essentially two tracks parallel to the bay with pousadas (like pensions in Greece, or guest houses) lining the sea front, some shops and restaurants, and then another row of houses behind. High rise it is not. It's just simply gorgeous, with a sandy beach running an an arc surrounded by mountains on the sheltered side of the island (the other side is subject to the full majesty of the Atlantic).We hopped off the ferry and a chap pointed out my lodging - the pousada Mara e Claude. Right on the beach, I had requested a sea view room and was not disappointed. I lie here in my hammock typing this looking out onto a myriad of small boats, one of which appears to be sinking. I have put some beer in my fridge and am watching people amble along the shoreline from one bar to another. Claude, the proprieter, is French, so we've had a laughable conversation or two in stilted Franglish with some Portuguese thrown in. Breakfast is included in the deal for about £50/night which works for me. There are many small beach restaurants to choose from for dinner.Seeing as there are no cars, you can either get a boat around the island or walk. I decided to wander 30 minutes to a little beach called the Praia Abraaozinhio (praia being "beach"). A little cafe beckoned and sold me some cold Coke Zero and the odd bottle of Brahimia beer, and some chicken nugget things that, in keeping with all food in Brazil it seems, was outrageously salty. A big 600ml bottle of beautifully cold, crisp, condensation covered bottle, beer is about £2.50. I sat there trying to get my pale turkeyskin legs to go brown but they refused. Still, can't beat the location.This place is a wildlife and nature reserve, so hopefully it won't develop any further. It really is gorgeous - if you can come here then make sure you do. Get out of Rio and slow down a bit, and see some nature. There are lots of weird birds flying around and I'm sure I just saw a hummingbird. The sea is full of fish and gannet-like birds keep diving onto them to get their dinner.Tomorrow I'm going to walk to the other side of the island (3 hours one way apparently) where there is meant to be the most stunningly amazing beach EVER.In the meantime I was thinking about my colleagues at the Argentina v Switzerland game, with horrendous shadows across the pitch to contend with, and I only hope that Ben was sitting in his usual spot to catch that extra time goal and cele that would have come his way.Lastly my Guildford photographic pals will be happy that I´ve been taking pictures of trees as well. A 300-year-old big tree with massive buttress roots. Cool.