Here are the available villas for rental in Brazil.

Salvador for Saints and Sinners

From the Daily Mail

Say 'Salvador' and most British people think of El Salvador, civil unrest and James Woods starring in Oliver Stone's disturbing film of that name. Yet, Salvador, Brazil, is a world away from its war torn Central American namesake. Lying in the Tropic of Capricorn south of the Equator, Salvador is the capital of the state of Bahia in the North East of Brazil. Now the country's fourth largest city, it was the capital for almost 200 years and a centre for merchants, artists and slave traders.
Almost 500 years ago, on November 1, 1501, the Portuguese explorer Pedro Alvarez Cabral crossed the Atlantic and arrived in a beautiful and vast natural harbour. In honour of the day, he named it Bahia de Todos los Santos, All Saints' Bay, and so the foundations of the city of Salvador, Bahia, were laid. A city that Brazilians say, 'has all the saints and all the sins'.
In Brazil, Salvador is second only to Rio de Janeiro as a tourist destination. More than half of Salvador's holiday trade is made up of Brazilians. Weary executives from the financial and industrial centres of Brasilia, Rio Grande do Sul and Sao Paulo bring their families north to Bahia.
They are drawn by miles of the most beautiful beaches, historic architecture and superb cuisine. Wealthy young people are attracted by the surf and the nightlife, which is a world away from the self-conscious samba shows of Rio.
Salvador is also seen as markedly safer than Rio. The city is well policed, and local people tut disapprovingly over the latest Rio shooting on TV. However, if you leave your Rolex watch on your beach towel, like a famous French chef did, it will be gone when you return from your swim. Use your common sense, take reasonable precautions and you should be okay. ... more

It's party time in Rio

Apparently the best time of year to party in Rio is New Year's Eve or during the February carnival. But after spending a week there in late November, it's hard to imagine there being a bad time.

The Cariocas (Rio's inhabitants) don't appear to sleep. Either that or they don't work. How can they when every night the bars, restaurants and clubs are overflowing with lively, chattering locals joyously downing caipirinhas and rolling their hips sensuously to the background samba beat?
I have no idea how they manage to get up for work in the mornings. I could barely make it down to breakfast. And I couldn't exactly blame that on jet lag, as Rio is only two hours ahead of the UK.
However, as the days wore on the spirit of the Cidade Maravilhosa - the Marvellous City - infected me. It's like the line to a particularly embarrassing song that I used to listen to: "I'll live while I'm alive and sleep when I'm dead". For the cariocas, life is for living, and they make the most of every single minute. And probably have a damn good siesta every afternoon too.
We decided to stay in the upmarket beachside district of Ipanema as it sounded safer than the slightly scruffier Copocabana. Every lunchtime we crossed the road between our hotel and settled ourselves near to Posto 9, where the beautiful set are supposed to congregate (hoping said beauties wouldn't tell us to sod off) and congratulated ourselves at having picked a hotel on a great beach in the shadow of Sugarloaf Mountain. Embarrassingly, it was three days before we discovered that the double arched peak at the bottom of Ipanema was actually the twin granite peaks of Dois Irmaos.
Obviously we needed to spend more time sight-seeing and less time hanging out on the beach like the locals. So we set off for Corcovado, with its mighty statue of Christ, in a taxi, having been warned by various people to avoid the metro and local buses (tourist muggings are frequent apparently). Although, once you've taken one taxi as it careers terrifyingly through the unmarked streets of the city, you do start to wonder just how much more dangerous the metro can be. It appears that this living life to the full thing extends to driving as well as partying.
No point in driving leisurely, enjoying the scenic beauty of the bays, mountains and historic buildings. No, much better to try your hardest to make your foreign passenger car sick either with nerves or by plotting a collision course with every bus, truck and car bigger than you then swerving at the last minute, if they haven't chickened out and done so already. Great fun. Gulp.
If you get a second to stare at the Christ the Redeemer statue perched atop Corcovado, while you are not being tossed about the back of the cab, the first thing you notice is how small it appears to be.
But as the tram climbed slowly through the tropical rainforest of Tijuca National Park, in which the statue and mountain sit, and we reached the 710m summit, it was the spectacular city below which seemed tiny and the statue that was suddenly overwhelming.
Completed in 1931, it was originally constructed to commemorate 100 years of Brazilian independence in 1921. But you can see why it took them an extra 10 years. In fact, how they managed to build a 30m-high, 1,145-ton concrete statue on top of a mountain is a complete mystery. Perhaps they had a bit of divine intervention. The food in the panoramic restaurant was pretty heavenly too. And the view across the city was a perfect accompaniment to the meal.
Pao de Azucar (Sugarloaf Mountain) needs nothing manmade to enhance its grandeur. If anything, the cable car that loops up to the summit via Morro da Urca detracts from its sheer granite shape. But it's another of the Rio 'must-sees' so we took another taxi over there after a beautiful sunny day to enjoy the spectacular views at what is apparently an optimum time - sunset.
The setting sun which bathes the beaches of Copocabana and Ipanema in a golden light and gives the outstretched arms of Christ the Redeemer a halo does create a truly dazzling sight. Made all the more pleasurable by a couple of cold chopps. No, not some bizarre Brazilian kickboxing class, but the name they give to draft beer. If you fancy going for a beer, you go to a Chopperia.
Which was where we decided to continue the night. Having experienced the hangover that a few lethal caipirinhas can give you, we thought sticking to beer was the safest option. So after several chopps in Shenanigans, a lively Irish bar in Ipanema, we headed to Leblon which is reputed to have a very lively nightlife. We found a bar where tables, people and the sounds of live music spilled out into the street and settled in for the evening. We spent the evening dancing, drinking and laughing as the chopps flowed.
Later on we attempted to find the Bar D'Or. It wasn't actually called that but apparently everyone would know what we meant. Hm. Fruitlessly we stumbled from lively, overflowing bar to lively overflowing bar. It was Monday night, 2am and it seemed like the entire town was out.
That evening we met two French girls, three Turkish men, an Australian, two Italians and a very friendly Brazilian guy who spoke perfect English. This cosmopolitan city attracts an international bunch and plenty of people find it so irresistible that they never go home.
The friendly vibe is infectious and talking to strangers is completely normal. From someone who wouldn't dream of even catching someone's eye as I commute through London I began smiling at complete strangers. I knew the transformation was complete when, on my last night, I met a table of Cariocas with whom I drank the night away.
So the Cidade Maravilhosa worked its magic on me. And as I got the taxi to the airport, I was almost calm when my driver excitedly and repeatedly turned around to practise his rusty English on me, while swerving at high speed through the crowded streets. With typical Cariocos spirit, becoming my new best friend was obviously more important than watching the pesky traffic. We could definitely do with more of this in London. ... more

The grannies from Ipanema

Brazilian men have a reputation for being Lotharios - but I didn't expect a chat-up line sitting on a horse in the middle of a dried swamp.
Our guide Juliano, a modern-day cowboy, pointed to a jabiru stork in the tree tops, a 1.3 metre-tall giant, with a white body, red-neck and black head. "These birds mate for life," he said, staring deeply into my eyes, "just like Pantanal men."
Admittedly, it wasn't the smoothest line in the world and it had to be delivered via my translator Henrique. But with his Stetson hat, bronzed face and playful smile, Juliano raised my appreciation of the region to new heights.
Covering an area half the size of France, the world's biggest flood plain is home to more than 270 bird species.
As our horses plodded across the sprawling green savannah of San Francisco Fazenda, electric blue hyacinth macaws, toucans with blazing orange bills, red and green parrots, plus hawks and hummingbirds swooped and squawked above our heads. Occasionally, ostrich-like rheas sprinted through the high grass. You didn't have to be a bird-lover to be impressed.
In the distance, Juliano pointed to circling vultures, and said they were waiting to scavenge on the remains of a dead cow that had probably been killed by a jaguar, the biggest predator in the Pantanal. An endangered species, jaguar numbers in the region have dwindled to around 3,000, partly due to poaching, loss of habitat and the rifles of cattle ranchers.
But thanks to local conservation efforts, ranchers are being taught that the big cats can mean an extra source of income via tourism. Jaguars however are a pretty elusive bunch to all but a lucky few - unlike the procession of other animals that can be viewed on a night time jeep safari.
As we bumped across trails and rice fields, our guide's torchlight picked out creatures that I'd only ever seen on TV. Solitary giant anteaters with strangely-long snouts and sweeping tassled tails, a black spotted ocelot cat, marsh deer, giant-eared foxes and scores of capybaras, which are brown-haired, round-bellied rodents that seemed to wear vaguely amused smiles.
The wildlife viewing was miles better than I'd expected. Even my river boat trip was a revelation. I discovered that a two-metre alligator can look quite endearing once you've learned its name (Mala) and age (30), and that hooking a piranha can be smugly rewarding.
If you prefer prettier fish that are less likely to chew your finger off, a trip to Bonito - which in Portuguese means beautiful - is a must.
A four-hour drive from the Pantanal, this ecotourism hotspot has rivers so amazingly clear that you feel like you're snorkelling in bottled mineral water. Floating downstream, I was spellbound by fluttering algae fronds as thick and dark as a horse's mane - tangly, green underwater forests and sunbeam bursts which lit up broken shells on the sandy floor.
But stealing the show were the fish - silvery curimbata chomping on underwater leaves, black, disc-shaped pacu as large as dinner platters, torpedo-like dourados, and red-tailed piraputanga. I failed to spot the anaconda, but it didn't matter. It still felt like I was in an aquarium.
All three rivers open to snorkellers - Sucuri, Acquario Naturel and Rio da Prata – are strictly regulated for conservation purposes. With 50 metre-plus visibility, gentle currents and shallow depths, they're child's play even for the least confident swimmers.
Another place where you can dip your toes in crystal clear waters is Boca da Onca, a rainforest-clad valley studded with 11 waterfalls. My first plunge at Monkey's Hole left me gasping in shock at the ice-cold temperatures. I didn't last long.
I thought swimming would be slightly easier at the second falls. It wasn't. By the time, I took my final dunk, at least the 156-metre-high curtain of water distracted me from the fact that I had lost all feeling in my limbs.
Exhilirated, however, from my watery adventures, I felt more than ready for my next challenge - rappelling - until I arrived at the platform overlooking my 92-metre-high descent.
But there was no turning back - not least because I didn't want to lose face in front of the dishy rappel instructor or the TV documentary crew keen to film some shots. Seated in a leather sling, attached to an overhead pulley with my legs entwined with my sister, we simultaneously released the brakes on our ropes - and dropped less than a metre. A good start. Ten minutes later, we had barely moved. Nobody had warned us that you needed Arnie-like biceps for this lark.
Giggling hysterically at our weakness, we dangled in the air - our willpower evaporating just as fast as our stamina. Yelling instructions above us, the Brazilian instructor was clearly losing his rag. And who could blame him? This was the country's highest rappel and we were hanging around like we had all the time in the world.
Somehow, we painstakingly inched our way to the bottom where we discovered that the television crew hadn't bothered to film our descent. Something to do with the overcast weather. Or so they said.
Back in Bonito, Henrique invited us to visit one of the town's newest attractions, Projeto Jiboia , which he opened less than a year ago. It was home to 12 pet snakes.
Aimed at demystifying the reptiles for locals and tourists, Henrique's collection included red-tailed boa constrictors and a 2.5-metre-long Burmese python which was enjoying more success with local TV crews than me. It had just landed a role in a Brazilian soap opera.
In their glass cage, the snakes didn't appear to be doing too much. So I was quite happy for Henrique to sling one on my shoulders. Until I discovered that a power hug from a boa can be a bit alarming if it's partly coiled around your neck.
After Henrique helped to adjust my reptilian scarf, I was able to relax and enjoy the sensation of the boa's soft leathery skin and tickly tongue flicks.
A big hit with youngsters, Henrique's snake project was fun and educational - and was a stone's throw from the centre of Bonito.The town itself was a one-street affair of restaurants and souvenir shops. Check out Cantinho do Peixe for excellent local fish dishes costing around £4.
By far, the liveliest spot was the Taboa bar, named after a lethal local concoction made of cachaca (sugar cane spirit), honey, cinnamon and an Amazon fruit drink.
After one shot, you feel good. By the third, you're in a party mood. By the fifth, you're dancing like a Brazilian and chatting up the local Lotharios without a translator in sight.

• Prices for a week's stay in Bonito and the Pantanal with B&B accommodation in Aguas de Bonito Hotel Pousada, transport, guided tours, translator, horse riding and some meals costs £390pp with Impacto Tour (Tel: 00 55 67 255 1414).

• For info on Projeto Jiboia, ring Henrique Naufal on 00 55 67 255 2328.

Feeling inspired? ... more

Piranha fishing on the Amazon

'When you remove the hook from its mouth, make sure you throw the piranha back quick,' said Antonio, showing me a circular scar on his finger.
'Look, I got bitten. I had to slit its throat and retrieve my bit of finger. 'Alligator bites don't heal so easily,' he continued, showing a thigh. 'With this one, I had to grab him and force his jaws open. I'll take you to catch one when it gets dark.'
Antonio, my guide, is a member of the Wapishana, one of the tribes of the Amazon, and I was sitting in this humid creek, spellbound.
We had travelled for two hours by motorboat from the Brazilian port of Manaus, in the heart of the Amazon, to Ariau, a jungle lodge on stilts on the Iranduba peninsula, transferring to a canoe to negotiate the creeks.
I noticed the motorboat's Portuguese name had been painted out and replaced by the legend 'Bill Gates'. 'He came to Ariau for a holiday,' explained Antonio.
'On this boat?' 'No, in a helicopter, but we named the boat in his honour.'
I resumed my fishing in the magical landscape of igarapes (creeks), dark and mysterious with jungle vegetation. In places the surrounding grass is so high that boats disappear completely.
In the late afternoon when nothing stirs and the water is like glass, the creeks are full of eyes - those of tourists, sitting silently in boats like ours, glued to a simple line on the end of a stick.
Just as I was about to give up, the line tugged with what seemed like a whale. There was so much pull that I fell backwards, and then the line catapulted out of the water and overhead, with a fat piranha attached.
I caught four more in quick succession. I was beginning to take to this life, especially as the people in the boats further along were all looking on enviously.
I had travelled 1,000 miles by cruise ship along the world's mightiest river to be here. From the moment we entered the Amazon, we all stood wide-eyed on deck. It is magnificent - the light, the ever-changing horizon and sky. ... more

Great for honeymooners

I just came back from a honeymoon in Brazil and want to say it is the perfect destination for this. The beaches are unspoilt, the food is fantastic and the people are genuine and friendly.
And if you don't fancy the usual international resorts populated by the likes of Geoff and Sue from just down the road back home, then Brazil is the place.
We stayed in fantastic boutique hotels - real luxury. Highly recommended.