Paraty

Large stones set unevenly make the paving hard on ankles. Thick soles help, and heels are best left behind.

A sailing boat works between the islands with about four stops for swimming. Each boat has its own set of anchorages, so a quieter route can be chosen.

A stone road that carried gold from the mines to this port survives in the forest. Records name the enslaved people who laid it, and it is now walked as a trail.

The rock is smooth enough that people slide down it with the water. Moss makes walking treacherous, so the descent is done sitting.

A fishing village forty minutes off, holding a natural pool ringed by rock. Its streets are dirt, and vehicles are limited during the busy season.

A white church on the square whose bell tower was never finished. Accounts hold that the ground was too soft to carry more weight.

Twenty minutes on foot brings you here, and the water stays very shallow. A hundred metres out it is still only waist deep.

Farms up the hill press their own cane and distil it on site. Barrels of different woods are poured side by side to show how the colour and scent shift.

Each year tents go up on the square and writers come for public conversations. Room rates climb during it and the town books out months ahead.

Kayaks thread the mangrove at the river mouth past crabs and birds. Entry works only at high tide, and the departure hour moves each day.

The whitewashed church on the waterfront, built in 1722, that stars in most pictures of Paraty. Its interior is a sacred art museum showing old silver altar pieces. When a high tide floods the lane outside, the church mirrors in the water.

Built in the 18th century above the northern edge of town, the fort keeps its guns trained on the bay. A 20-minute walk by the beach and up a slope gets you there. From the walls you see the old town roofs and the islands.

Enslaved people raised this church for themselves in 1725. The altar honours Benedict, the Black saint. It sits on an inner lane of the old town, and linking it with the other two churches shows how the town was split by social rank.

A narrow sea inlet about 8km long between mountains, called Brazil's fjord. Boats head in from the village of Paraty-Mirim, and mangroves close off the far end. A peak at its mouth surveys the whole inlet, but the climb is steep, so start in the morning.

No road reaches this beach; a forest trail of about 1 hour climbs over from the village of Laranjeiras. The sand runs long and a few fishing-family kitchens cook fish. Too tired to hike back? Boats leave from the beach.

A highland town roughly 1 hour up the mountain road from Paraty, known for pottery fired in Japanese-style climbing kilns. Several studios leave their workshops open and sell what they make. The altitude makes it much colder than Paraty itself; bring a jacket.