We arrived in Paraty on January 10th. I wouldn’t recommend it. To be honest I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere in Brazil in January. After a beautiful Christmas and New Year in Trancoso and Salvador, we made our way back to Rio for a few days. And that’s where it started.

Over the course of the week, the mercury crept up. We took needless trips on the metro simply to be somewhere air-conditioned. By the time we left the city, the temperature had hit 40 degrees and the humidity was closing in. Our escape to the countryside did nothing to relieve us. Even the most beautiful places on earth can be rendered ugly when merely venturing outside your hotel feels like being suffocated with a warm, damp flannel.

Ok, not that ugly.

Paraty (pronounced Para-chee) is a tiny colonial town, four hours down the coast from Rio de Janeiro. It was built in the mid 1500s by Portuguese gold prospectors. They found what they were looking for and set up shop right here between the mountains, the rainforest  and the ocean. Like Cartagena and Salvador, the city centre is a UNESCO World Heritage site and as a result a wander through it’s cobbled streets feels rather like stepping back in time.

Given the extreme heat, it quickly became clear that our time-travel experience would be more enjoyable under the relative cool of evening. By which I mean 37 degrees as opposed to 40. I had to buy two pairs of shorts (and I do not do shorts) but by that stage I’d have happily walked around in my underwear. Oh wait… this is Brazil, I can walk around in my underwear.

Well, my bikini anyway. And luckily there are plenty of activities in and around Paraty for which swimwear is the only appropriate outfit. First on anyone’s list should be a boat trip around the spectacular bay.

They’re easy enough to find. Just head down to the marina and pick one. We walked past dozens of gorgeous boats, decked out with tropical printed cushions and brightly coloured bunting, until we found the “Moana”. For R50 (£12.50) we were able to take in four different swim stops, including the much-vaunted turtle beach where a colony of sea turtles can occasionally be spotted in the warm, green water.

And when I say “warm”, please know that this isn’t just a case of trite travel copy. As the sun beats down, anyone looking longingly at the glistening waves is in for a surprise. Jumping off the boat is like jumping into a bath as the shallow waters around the islands retain the day’s heat. Still, the breeze is beautiful and the views… yeah, the views were alright.

Inland we had more luck cooling off. At Cachoeira do Tobogã you can slide down the natural waterslides created as the river water flows over smooth rocks. Sit at the top and one of the locals will be kind enough to give you a push… that’s if they’re not busy showing off. The boys attract quite a crowd as they perform tricks, sliding down on their feet, flipping into somersaults, and landing in perfect dives at the bottom.

Fearing the broken bones, we retreat upstream where you can swim in the freshwater pools or lie beneath the waterfalls. This is basically Rob’s idea of heaven and I lost him for some time to the gently cascading waters.

From Paraty bus station the bus to Penha costs just R3.40 (85p) and takes half an hour. From Penha it’s a ten minute walk to the waterfalls. Entrance is free and there’s a cafe (read: tourist trap) alongside the pools where you can buy lunch and drinks.

Speaking of food, Paraty has plenty to offer in terms of restaurants. If you can handle the (extra) heat, the pretty courtyard at Thai Brasil on Rua do Comércio is a fantastic place for a fish curry. Our favourite was the slightly pricier Banana da Terra on Rua Doutor Samuel Costa which does classic Brazilian food (get the octopus, it’s delish!). And Rob kindled something of a love affair with Pistache, an ice cream parlour where you pay “by the kilo” although whether or not you eat by the kilo is entirely between you and your coronary arteries.

At the start of the week we had enthusiastically booked ourselves in for a four-hour kayaking trip. It sounded idyllic at the time; an early evening paddle out across the bay and through the mangrove swamps to watch the sun set over the mountains. But after a few days in this sweatbox I have to say we were slightly dreading it. I mean, kayaking is exercise for crying out loud.

In some kind of divine intervention on behalf of our sweat glands, however, the sky clouded over and as we made our way to the beach there was actually – can it be true? – a light breeze. The day was turning dusky and as we paddled our two-man kayak out towards the islands, we were able to catch the occasional silvery flash of fish leaping out of the water. Well, I did. Rob, as the rear oarsman, couldn’t see a damn thing.

He fared a bit better in the mangrove swamps where enormous vivid red crabs scuttled about on the muddy banks and across the low branches of the trees, often just inches from our faces. On the way back we stopped on an island, bought up a few years back but abandoned after the owner ran out of cash for his building project. Along with our guide, we ran along the half-finished jetty to the palm-lined pathways where we shook coconuts down from the trees and bashed them against the rocks.

We walked back in the dusky evening light, winding our way through Paraty’s fairytale streets, now alive with light and life. The grand wooden doors leading to shops and restaurants were opened wide and through the latticed windows came the sound of  laughter and music.

On the way we stopped to take pictures of the sunset. Looking at them you’d never know that all we wanted to do was get back to our air-conditioned hotel room.

So long, Paraty. Thanks for a sweaty, sweaty time.

[Customer service update: Turns out best time to go to Paraty is actually April, May, or September]