Buzios’ beat

The night is young and the beat is pretty slow in our boutique hotel.

Perched on bar stools, Kathy and I are about to discover molecular mixology. A little over excited I subtly eyeball the bar manager and enquire as to what this involves. ‘Intensity. Lots of flavour. Caviar. Foam and a little stimulation’, she whispers. ‘Holy bejesus’, I’m thinking, does it involve a man, flesh and possible palm frond too?

Gripping my stool I prepare for the worst (perhaps the best).

And placed in front of me is a chilled martini glass. Cradled within are what look like strawberry coloured fish eggs. Blinking and taking a proffered spoon (from a barman sans palm frond…sigh) I scoop up a few of the blobs and squish them between my lips.

Mini lumps of strawberried vodka. Strange, but flavoursome. And mighty dangerous too… Many more pink blobs later and it’s time to move on and increase the beat.

Orla Bardot (street) has more of a pulse and it’s here we find ourselves amongst food festival revellers, stalls lit up and steam swirling in the night air. Buzios’ food festival (now its 11th year) is in full swing. Glasses of Sangria are being passed around and it takes just a few seconds and our arms join those already outstretched for more. Like juice, she goes down smoothly and again I find myself macerating alcohol infused strawberries between lips. The beat is certainly stronger out here.

23:59 PM sees us testing Billabong caipirinhas. Sadly, this cheap open-aired and free joint lacks any strawberry class – but it’s fun. The folk here are from all corners of the world. Buzians with but a few bucks to their name dance with Skols in hand. The DJ increases the beat, the night evolves into a new day and the crowd only increases. Argentinians dominate the throng of uninhibited souls, the sweat runs and for a short six or so hours my beat is strong, footloose and I couldn’t be happier.

Buzios’ beat will stay with you….


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