The Deeper You Go, the Sweeter It Gets

Morro de são paulo I knew things had changed in Morro de São Paulo, a village on Ilha de Tinharé, the minute I saw the MasterCard awning. It stretched for 200 feet over the wooden pier where my catamaran docked-the same pier where I'd pulled up nine years ago, but back then there was no awning, just a line of torches arcing up a steep, sandy path.

Morro's main street had changed, too. Where there once had been a handful of candlelit restaurants serving fried fish, there were now two dozen, huddled together, stacked on top of each other-creperies and pizzerias with high ceilings and flaming-orange walls; Internet cafés selling art and art galleries offering Internet service; boutiques stocked with crocheted bikinis, diaphanous skirts, and T-shirts that commanded no stress, and beneath, in small letters, morro de são paulo. ...