It’s a new beginning each time we change places. So far, we went from a small studio in São Paulo to an old but comfortable beach apartment in Ingleses, then back to a former Mercure Hotel room turned into an Airbnb studio in Florianópolis Centro.

“Okay, who sleeps where?”

We each have our own priority—sleep and tons of shelves to spread stuff around for Feng, a clean towel and a small corner just for myself to work, a good spot in front of the TV and “please, no sofa bed” for Mark.

Obviously, we rarely get what we want. I end up working on the balcony, Feng sleeps way too late and way too little, and Mark gets the sofa bed again. Still, it doesn’t take us long to adapt after a few minutes of missing what the other place had.

We don’t spend much time indoors anyway—like everybody else, we hang out at the beach.

The week between Christmas and New Year is super high season. The island is packed with Brazilians from all over Brazil (yes, I read license plates in my spare time), plus many Argentinians as usual, and a few Uruguayans and Paraguayans.

The roads are jammed, and the many beaches around the island are a big, fun happy mess.

The tide goes up, and nobody moves. The tide goes down, and more people join the fun and fill the wet empty spot left by the sea. Meanwhile, I’m busy reading people’s many tattoos—don’t Brazilians grab a pen and a piece of paper when they need to write down something instead of having it inked on their body?

“Look at this kid! His legs! ’Pai, 1974′ on the left calf ’Mãe, 1983′ on the right! Mommy, daddy, our birth years, this is us right there. Do we have a Brazilian kid we don’t know about?”

Balls are being kicked and passed around, food is bought and eaten on the spot, booze is being drank and everybody looks happy to watch 2024 fade away from the beach.

Praia do Pântano do Sul

Praia do Campeche

Praia da Joaquina