Aug
Passport Confessional | Brazil 2013, Part 2
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Time to board the plane. My name wasn’t coming up. At this point, I was fully prepared to have a full adult-sized temper tantrum if I was not getting on that plane.
My name was never called…because they didn’t have to! There was room on the plane! I WAS GOING TO BRAZIL!!!!
I won’t get into details of the flight. It was fine. Roomy, sat next to a nice passenger who was a robotics engineer. All in all, it was very good.
Fortaleza, Ceara, BR
I was immediately struck by the architecture. Lots of graphic color blocking and curves.
Fortaleza, CE (state capital) is Northeastern Brazil’s second largest city, with about 2.5 million people. The main strip, on the beira mar (the strip), is where most locals, visitors, and tourists hang out.
Settling in, and really relaxing
Once I was settled and took some time to take in my surroundings. I scored a one-bedroom apartment, right on the strip, and it felt like Little Miami. I headed down to an open table street restaurant, where you buy your chosen seafood, and they prepare it for you. I chose a basic bag of marinated shrimp. That basic meal introduced me to two very common, but life-changing foods: farofa, and Guarana.
Now, farofa, is a staple of Brazilian food. It’s made of a ground vegetable root and blended with butter, olive oil, garlic, and cooked. When it comes to you, it looks like cornmeal, and for a moment you think that’s what it is. Initially, it’s an acquired taste, because of the gritty texture. But once I had it, I couldn’t go another Brazilian meal without it. There’s nothing quite like it. Even the vegetable root used in farofa is native to Brazil.
Guarana, is a soft drink that is made from the guarana berry. Some describe it as the drink of the heavens because of its distinctively fruity flavor. I loved the notes of apple and the lightness of the flavor. And because it was caffeinated, it kept me alert until my body clock kept up. Although Northeastern Brazil is only an hour ahead of EST, it’s very far south. Despite the warm climate in this region, the days are short like wintertime. And that can affect your circadian rhythm.
”Apparently, a full-bottomed bandeau bikini is overdressed on the beaches of Brazil
After a day of rest, I finally made my way to the beach. This had me so shook. Now I’d been out on a beach in a bikini before. But I’d also seen how men and women looked on the beaches of Brazil. It just induces so much. So, for about eight weeks leading up to the trip, I monitored my diet, cut calories, worked out more often, avoided bread, pasta, and sweets like they wer
e poison. You know, the usual.
I wore my most conservative monokini, and I was surprised to find that…no one cared. Not a single catcall, no whistling. Maybe one guy approached me awkwardly, but I was able to shoo him away. Apparently, a full-bottomed bandeau bikini is overdressed on the beaches of Brazil. More importantly, women who look like me are considered normal in that country, and that is a very comfortable feeling. Let me explain.
In the U.S., we are not kind to African American women’s bodies. They are constantly put on display — not necessarily as something to admire — but a problem that needs addressing, something that makes us uncomfortable, and to hold up as the anthesis to a European standard of beauty. When I wear a bikini in my home country, I get a much more hostile reaction. I am made to feel that I don’t have the same right to enjoy the sun on my barely-dressed skin, like everyone else. If I do, I am asking for trouble. And that reaction is treated like that’s okay. But in a culture like Brazil, where large thighs an buttocks are not only desirable, they are considered normal, it was easier for me to relax.
As U.S. citizens, we have this exoticized fantasy of Brazilians as highly sexual (and therefore constantly sexually available) people. And sometimes both Americans and Brazilians mutually play into that fantasy. But what I found was a people who love themselves, and aren’t ashamed of their bodies. Unlike our culture, where we shroud ourselves in shame, they don’t. Especially for people of African descent.
Spanish + Portuguese +Italian +English = One very confusing trip to Jeri
See, this guy? He’s crazy. Also, once he found out I was from Wisconsin, he tells me he went to UW-Madison. Further proof that Brazilians will not die in the cold.
As I said, I booked most of my trip to Jericoacoara. And I already reserved a week’s stay at a perfect pousada right at the water when I got there. The only problem now was getting transportation there. Jeri is about 4 hours away from Fortaleza, and is completely surrounded by sand dunes. I read that there are several tourist trips that will take you there, and you can book as late as the day before. That evening after dinner I approach a vendor and purchased a travel ticket. Though many things were lost in translation. The next morning I boarded the tour bus, and there is some confusion. Despite this, a wonderful fellow tourist intervened, and all was cleared up.
Part of the trip requires that travelers unload from the bus, and split into two separate jeeps. These jeeps are designed to handle the rough terrain of the sand dunes. See that guy? He goes by the name Brad Pitt, and he hangs on the outside of the jeep explaining what our day will be like. Yet he’s talking to us like we’re having tea. Meanwhile, all of us are inside being knocked around like cargo.
Midway through we stopped in the middle of the sand dunes, just so we could take in our surroundings. I couldn’t believe that I’d finally made it! All the stress of getting melted away in mere moments.
Every day is Heaven in Jericoacoara.
Every morning, I woke up to fresh breakfast and watched the low tide coming in.
Every night, I fell asleep to the sounds of the water.
Every morning, I went out to the beach and sat in the warmest, most shallow waters.
Every night, I either ate sushi, danced the samba, or drank caipirinhas
In the evenings, we’d all gather at the top of the most prominent sand dune and watched the sunset. This beach has ruined me for other beaches.
I learned to surf. It was hard. I only stood up once. But it was thrilling.
This entry is not about travel. It’s not about going to the most beautiful beach you can find, or flirt with the most handsome fellow traveler you can find. It’s about never, ever, ever giving up on your dreams.
Passport Confessional is a blog series on IDSL dedicated to places I’ve traveled to, outside of the U.S.