Stunning pictures of Carnival, 2009.

Take a look at these incredible photos of Carnival around the world, which do considerably more justice to the celebrations than my lousy shots. 

The parade of the Beija-Flor samba school in Rio, shown here, was one of the most spectacular that we saw - although it was not the winning school out of the fourteen competing. 

Picture 36 gives some idea of the scale and spectacle of the Sambodromo. 

(If turkeys have nightmares about Christmas, then Carnival must keep ostriches awake at night).

Meanwhile, back in London:

• The economic pinch has become a punch; 
  
• A blow-by-blow account of a non-celebrity-celebrity's terminal illness is unfolding on newspaper' front pages in a horrible and voyeuristic way. These same publications, now feigning compassion, were vilifying this woman a year or two ago and out to destroy her. (The British Press is so toxic and has, in doing this, I think sunk to a new low);
  
• Service seems to have improved - perhaps because people fear losing their jobs unless they deliver. (Refreshing!);
  
• It feels as though everyone is wearing black, perhaps reflecting the city's mood?;
• As ever, The Tube is being randomly shutdown for repairs, and is inhumanely packed and hot - but, in odd contrast, the streets seem emptier than they were.
  

Still one of the world's great cities, but right now London feels somewhat bruised and deflated.

Rio returns to normal (and, soon, so must I).

"Normality" seems to be returning to the city - although I'm not really sure what that is on Rio's terms. 

Everywhere has thinned out and is calmer: the people, traffic, streets and the beach. In fact the bacchanalian abandon with which the place gave itself to Carnival almost seems quite distant now. 

Walking back from my favourite breakfast cafe, along Ipanema beach, I observed everything with an objectivity that perhaps I haven't had since I arrived - probably because I return to London tonight. And I felt terribly sad to be leaving. 

I watched the joggers, the young couples with their kids, the destitute lying on their cardboard patch of ground, the beach volleyball, the vendors selling snacks on the sand, the man from the favela creating little palm tree tableaux from empty Coke cans, the musicians playing to the tourists at a cafe for a few Reis. 

Few other places have afforded me such joy and wonder as this and for me it is undoubtedly one of the world's most exciting cities, and certainly one of my favourites.

Although I don't speak the language, don't really understand the way of life and recognise the dark underside of the place, in the few blocks between Lagoa, Leblon and Ipanema I have found a part of the world and people that, simply, I adore.

I was warned about Rio's powers of seduction and the tricks she has up her sleeve to do so: the warm, generous and life-loving people; the staggering topography, beaches and jungle pouring into the city wherever it can; the languid climate; the laid-back, flip-flop beachlife and super-charged nightlife; the music, everywhere, and the wonderful food. 

The city (and country) has more than it's fair share of problems, but few places I've ever visited have so quickly and deeply won my affections. And with the exception of a few hours last weekend, I have enjoyed every second of my time here.

There is a word here, saudade, meaning indescribable longing. I already have a sense of that - to return here, but also a certainty that for any number of reasons I will be back again soon.

Ilha Grande.

After events at the weekend, I couldn´t help feeling that Rio was telling me something: to get away from it for a few days. So that's what I´ve done, with Nicole and Julian, Australian friends I met earlier in the trip.

We travelled out of the city by bus for three hours, along the Costa Verde, a beautiful jungle-cloaked coastline of mountains, beaches, bays and islands. A further hour and a half by boat from the harbour of Angra dos Reis and we reached another world.

Ilha Grande is a mountainous, tropical island of unspoilt beauty. Its history as a pirates' hideaway, a leper colony and a prison for the country's most dangerous, means it was never developed or its resources exploited. 

Today, it remains almost entirely covered in protected virgin rainforest and, with 102 pristine beaches (one of which is regarded as the best in Brasil), is a little piece of heaven. Wisps of cloud cloak the tops of the peaks, eagles soar overhead and hummingbirds whirr outside the window of where we're staying, sipping nectar from the orchids growing wild opposite.

With no cars, the pace of life is barefoot, sand-between-the-toes sleepy, and it's bliss.

Ipanema to Leblon this evening.

Ode to Havaianas.

Shoes. I know they're useful, but I've really enjoyed not wearing them for the last few weeks. 

Like pretty much everyone here, since I arrived in Brazil I've come to love this country's great flip-flop institution, Havaianas. 

Cheap, cheerful and supremely comfortable, they are the great leveller - worn by everyone from favela kids to supermodels - and come in dozens of colours, patterns and sizes. In Rio, they're obligatory for not only the beach, but also the streets and going out.

I knew things were going too well. (Part II).

And today I have an eye infection.

So the morning was spent at the Tourist Police, and the afternoon trying to find an eye specialist. 

Given my earlier entry about ATM extortion by the Rio police, I was a little anxious when ushered into a car with three unlikely looking officers (shorts and t-shirt wearing but toting guns and truncheons) in Ipanema; but a few minutes later I was dropped-off at the office that handles crimes against tourists and I quickly had the required paperwork.

I dread falling sick when travelling on my own in a country where I speak very little of the language. However, at the clinic too the staff were similarly helpful; a nurse even accompanied me several blocks to another specialist and interpreted for me in perfect English. A prescription later, and 260 Reis lighter (about 75GBP), and I was on my way with considerable peace of mind. Time and money well spent.

All of which reaffirms my view - despite the unpleasant beach episode - that, with some exceptions, Cariocas are warm, kind and generous people. I like them very much indeed.