Rain pitter-pattered on my window as I woke up on the northern tip of Florianópolis. It was the best I’d slept in years, cocooned in silky sheets at the newly opened Fuso Concept hotel. A storm brushed over Floripa—as the locals call it—during my first few days on the island. Surfers dwelled in the swell it would bring. I dwelled in the coveted reading time. When the rain cleared, with nothing left but the fresh scent of dewy flora and fauna at Fuso, I set out to explore.
Floripa has long had a reputation for its famous surf breaks and spell-binding mysticism. I was told it was called the Island of Magic, presumably for its 42 pristine beaches and its lush rainforests. Rather, I found that it gets its name from local folklore. Legend has it that back in the 18th century, King John V of Portugal ordered thousands of Azoreans to what was then known as the mysterious island of Nossa Senhora do Desterro. Among them, a population accused of witchcraft.
Many explorers have been lured in by the mystical tales that are ever present here, but perhaps the most locally-celebrated is Franklin Cascaes. In his book ‘O fantástico na Ilha de Santa Catarina’, the author penned 32 legendary stories of Azoreans who came to the island. In it, he notes, "this island, formerly Nossa Senhora do Desterro, until very few years ago, plunged into the mists of the legends of imaginary beings: witches, sorceress and bewitched ones who dragged their fates in the dead hours of the night, through the woods and in the immensity of the seas."
Today, the same air of magic draws in travelers from far-flung corners of the world. The population in Floripa is said to stand at over 500,000 inhabitants and according to the Brazilian Ministry of Tourism, Floripa was second only to Rio de Janeiro as the most visited city in Brazil in 2018. The locals here, better known as Manhezinhos, will tell you that each sector of the island could be its own. The east, famous for surf breaks and beach bars. The north, a slightly more secluded and upscale scene. The south, brimming with laid-back locals and colonial architecture. And the city center, formerly marked by a lonely road lined with greenery, now blossoms with start-ups, sky-scrapers, and modern hang-outs.
My trip to Floripa was the first I’d done alone in half a decade. Before I arrived, I was eager to learn more of Fuso, the first luxury boutique hotel concept founded in Floripa. As most of us have grown accustomed to doing, I had scrolled through Fuso’s Instagram geo-tag beforehand, finding many loving couples celebrating their engagements on the hotel’s romantic rooftop overlooking the bay. As a solo-traveler, I armed myself in books in the hopes of avoiding feeling alone, but I never did. The friendly faces at Fuso were always kind enough to indulge me in conversation.
One such face was Augusto, who took me trekking through the rainforests that surround Fuso. We spent the afternoon foraging through the forest for unsuspecting fruit. We plucked pitanga and guayaba from trees and happily took bites. The path we walked eventually led us to the white-sands and turquoise waters of Daniela Beach. We sat on bare rock, waves crashing before us, taking bites of local pastries, discussing our fears, family, and of course, psychedelic fungi. Several clusters of beach-goers sipped caipirinhas and caldo de cana (sugarcane juice) at nondescript shacks. We walked several kilometers to the tip of the beach, where the sprawling skyline of the city center lined the coast on the other side.
In between quick trips to the beach and charming colonial villages such as Santo Antônio de Lisboa, I spent most of my time enjoying all things Fuso. There was a massage at the Gaya Spa, where I fell asleep as oil dripped down my back. There was morning yoga with Izadora, who patiently guided me as I practiced a handstand. There were countless photos taken of the Brazilian-centric design, which seamlessly blends into nature. There were afternoons spent dipping in between my bungalow’s private pool and the hotel’s main pool. There were many splendid meals at the hotel’s restaurant, where I savored a creative selection of cocktails, fresh ceviches, and local cheese drizzled in honey that comes standard with breakfast.
And then there was Eduarda Tonietto, Fuso’s unsurprisingly chic founder and designer. Upon meeting the young entrepreneur, it became apparent that the hotel was her. Fuso, like Eduarda, is a kind soul who cares about people as much as she does impeccable design and food. They’re equally fabulous yet unpretentious. Together, they embody a slightly mysterious but inextricably captivating character—a hotel that is a physical extension of a spiritual self.
On my last morning, I drew back the curtains to soak in a final moment amidst enchanting ocean vistas. I felt the breeze and gulped it in. In my short time here, I already felt connected to this place, to this feeling. That’s the thing—Fuso is not just a place, it is a feeling. Yes, it is a wonderfully secluded hotel, on an island dotted with beaches, steeped in history, and blossoming with modern life, but it felt like more than those words could possibly carry. And so, of all the words I could muster up, one in particular stayed in mind: synchronicity. Each person who comes across Fuso—and Floripa—experiences their own incidents of spiritual significance that ask them to consider the possibility of the divine, and better yet, leave us with a curiously heightened connection to the natural wonders of the planet we call home.
