Canoa Quebrada - Natal

Friday, 15 June 2007

5:30am

I have a (very) early morning bus to Natal to catch. The Italian guy who is running this pousada proves me again that he is either really good in his "job", or just a really nice person. Come to think of it, maybe both. As he promised me last night, he has left bread, butter and marmalade on the table, he has also made coffee for me before going to sleep, left it in some of those bottles that keep coffee warm for hours. He didn't have to, breakfast "officially" is not served before 8. He earns himself and his pousada a place in my list of people/places I'll praise once I make it back home and I send my feedback to Lonely Planet...

3:20pm

Looking out of my window. I'm in Natal, or, to be more exact, in Ponta Negra, a coastal suburb south of Natal. What you can't see in the picture is that the sea is about 500 metres on the left, as well as that the room is really messy. The guy who let me in, said that last night four girls were here. He said girls are worse (actually better, in this case...) than guys when it comes to... turning a room upside down before checking out... I don't care about the mess, I like this place, the hostel (Albergue da Costa) and Natal itself. My first impressions are positive for a reason...

3:30

At the bus station, I needed someone to tell me which city bus I had to take to go to Ponta Negra. There is a tourist information desk at the bus station, and the piece of info I was looking for, was provided to me by a beautiful woman in her early 30s who not only answered my question with a smile on her face, but also showed interest in hearing my story, which country I come from, where I have already been in Brazil, what are my impressions up to now, so on, so on... Then, on the city bus to Ponta Negra, both the driver and the guy you pay for the ticket, were very friendly and in the end made sure to drop me off at the very stop I had asked them to, once again, with a smile on their face (at least the ticket guy).

3:45

There, I asked some taxi drivers which way my hostel was, and once again, friendly/helpful people assisted me, very willingly I must admit. Finally, I checked in my hostel and all three people I met at the front desk, guys and girl working here, made me feel right away like a member of a bunch of laid back young people. First impressions... How important they are, how decisive in making you like a place before you even take a shower and hit the road for your very first stroll around...

3:50

Natal is one of those places I had never heard before, until I bought my "Brazil" Lonely Planet and started coming up with itinerary ideas. "Sex tourism" is once again (as in Fortaleza's case) a pair of words I came across reading about Natal, which makes me feel a little awkward. I'm not here to have sex with a different prostitute every night, but seems like many Europeans and Americans who come here, come for this very reason, and this makes me feel that as I am walking along the coast, people look at me and say "there, another tourist who is here for cheap exotic sex". Soon, I start getting over this... "complex". The kind of people I see on the beach, anywhere around me, make me feel that things are not that bad, after all... Then again, it's only 4pm... What did I expect?...

4pm

Ponta Negra has a long and narrow stretch of sandy beach, backed by a small street, at the other side of which you have cafeterias, restaurants, travel agencies, bars, souvenir shops, and some hotels. One thing I notice is that people are different to Fortaleza's, meaning... their looks are different. In my city, Thessaloniki, it's easy to spot someone who is from... Georgia, for example (I'm talking about the ex Soviet Republic), be he Georgian or Greek who used to live in Georgia and came to Greece back in the 90s, along with many others from ex Soviet Republics and Albania. In Fortaleza I saw many faces that to me looked like faces of people who are grand-grand-grandchildren of the people who lived here before the Europeans came. In Natal I am under the impression that the vast majority of the people are either white or black. I shouldn't be surprised, this is a seriously big country after all, a real giant, it's not little Greece where we all look the same, race characteristics-wise...

4:10

I have Lonely Planet's "Travel Photography" (apparently I haven't learned anything from it...), and this picture goes against all rules of photography, I guess, but I like this kind of pictures, especially when clouds are involved. The reason I like these pictures is because they remind me how small we actually are... Remember "Antz", some animation movie? For two hours you watch a story being unfold in front of your eyes, a story full of happenings, events that are matters of life and death for the people, well... ants actually, who "star" in the movie, but in the end the camera zooms out, out, out, it leaves the hole in the ground where the story has taken place, it keeps zooming out, the camera "flies" high above New York's Central Park (if I'm not mistaken), and finally gets lost in the clouds, with earth looking so small as a head of a pin... We are small, and...

4:20

And I think that one of the biggest mistakes we humans make, is being under the false impression that we are actually the... centre of the universe, literally and metaphorically. We take everything too damn seriously, we make mountains out of molehills, we make big deals out of nothings (I know there is no such word as "nothings", but this is my blog, I violate the English language any way I want), failing to realize that in reality we are nothing more than a tiny piece of sand in an endless, literally endless, beach... Who do we think we are? Honestly... And I ask this question to myself first, because I'm no exception... I take such a picture and for a few seconds I bring me back to the ground, reminding me that I am not the centre of the universe, and then these seconds pass to history and slowly-slowly I let myself fall into the same trap again, giving my life or life on earth in general way bigger proportions than what they really deserve...

4:30

I've reached the end of the beach, I'm standing at the feet of Morro da Careca, this big sand dune you can see in the last pictures. If you go back to today's second picture and you "look" out of my window, you will see a tall thin communication "tower". The same "tower" can be seen in this photo, in the centre and sliiiiightly on the right. Gives you a rough idea where my hostel is. Once again, I have forgotten to eat... It's no wonder that every single time I travel alone I end up losing weight, having my mother telling me off when I finally find my way back to Thessaloniki, and I visit my parents for my first lunch after returning home. My pants are falling (not exaggerating), I make sure to keep all coins and of course the smaller of my two Olympus cameras in my day-pack and not in my pockets, because this only makes my pants fall more easily... At least I have money and I know that whenever I want, I can put something in my stomach...

5pm

Which is not the case for this tiny kittie... I see/hear it crying as I am going back to my hostel, its mother cannot be seen around, seems all alone, and... well, I do love animals, but I am not the kind of person who will go and feed the neighbourhood's stray dogs. But... seriously, look at it... It's so small and skinny, looks like it's all bones, no real fat, it's crying, and I may be mistaken but its eyes look seriously desperate. I stop a girl that is jogging, she doesn't speak English (surprise-surprise!! -not), so I am trying to construct a sentence in Portuguese including the words "where", "buy" and "milk". She points me at some direction, I pick up the kittie (which, needless to say, is shivering, out of fear I guess, even though I keep trying to cuddle it and make it feel safe), and to make a long story short, after failing to find milk in a bunch of places I went to (give me a break people!!! In Brazil you only sell powder milk?!!! What about normal milk?!!! Jesus!...), I finally shared my "salgados" (small snacks) with the kittie, before taking it back to the place where I had found it. I thought maybe its mother would appear at some point, or... I don't know. It's the only move that made sense to me.

7:50

After spending two days in anything but crowded Canoa Quebrada, the full of people promenade of Ponta Negra looks pleasantly refreshing... Everything has its time and its place, and being in this coastal suburb of Natal on a Friday night feels perfect. To be honest, I do notice something that makes me feel awkward, something I saw in Fortaleza as well. Fat/bald guys in their 40s/50s, skin all white, looking British, my guess is, are holding hands with gorgeous looking young girls who look locals(...). Nothing more to say on this one...

8:20

Another lonely stroll... I'm a member of hospitalityclub.org and couchsurfing.com, I could have arranged to meet with members living here, I could have even asked to be hosted, but I've chosen to be alone. These days I've been in Brazil I had a bunch of chances to hook up with other travelers, but... no, I... made sure to keep everyone at a distance. I even had chances to flirt, but I let them pass me by... I keep myself locked in the same golden cage I have trapped me back home as well. I don't have friends, I don't have a girlfriend for some months now, I try to see my parents as rarely as possible, in other words, I have no expectations from anyone and there is no one to have any expectations from me, I hurt no one and there is no one to get hurt by me, and... that's my "colourless paradise"...

9pm

These are thoughts I make almost every night here, in Brazil. During the day I am distracted by everything I see around, by the very fact that I am in Brazil, but every night, when I pull the brake and look back at everything that happened since the moment I opened my eyes in the morning, thoughts start jumping out of my head, and every night I... count how many moments would have been different if I was different. I'm not complaining, I'm not moaning, really, I am happy to be here, this is a dream coming true, but I feel that... I am driving a Ferrari, going only with 120km/h, while the road is totally empty. There is no speed limit, I am allowed to step on it and reach 200km/h, I have the car to reach such a speed, but... I stick to my 120km/h. It's as if I am hesitant to be TOO happy, as if I'm subconsciously punishing me for... for things I can only write in my notebook, and not in a blog which can be seen by anyone, no matter if this little counter thingy I have on the right says that hardly anyone reads my daily served bunch of mumblings...

Canoa Quebrada

Thursday, 14 June 2007

6:45am

A few days ago I wrote that sometimes, while on the road, I take a minute or two to close my eyes and just... listen. I started doing it after the first time I read Paulo Coelho's "The diary of a magician" (so many years passed since he wrote this book, so many books he wrote after this one, but every time a new book of his comes out and I read it, I realize that "The diary..." remains my favourite Coelho book). After keeping my eyes closed for a minute, I write down the sounds I have heard, and what always amazes me is that there are always "hidden" ones...

7am

First time I went to Madrid's "El Prado", I went to the hall where someone could find "El Greco's" paintings. For a few pesetas (back then the euro currency was still a thing of the future), you could buy a little booklet which kind of... took you by the hand, and disclosed to you little details, little bewitching details of "El Greco's" paintings, that my ignorant eyes wouldn't have spotted if I didn't have this little booklet to "direct" my attention... An ignorant (when it comes to art) like me, looks at a painting and feels a little... lost. But "El Greco's" paintings have so many little, full of symbolism details, that make them more than just "beautiful", more like... genius.

7:15

I use "El Greco's" example because listening, the very simple act of closing your eyes and listening, works a little like that booklet I had in my hands, in "El Prado". It discloses things, sounds, that initially are not obvious. Walking barefoot next to the sea, the... king of all sounds (I say "king" because the word sound in Greek is male), is the one that comes from the small waves reaching the shore. But if you close your eyes and you focus on everything you can hear, then a much more... colourful painting is presented before your eyes, or, well... ears...

7:20
Sure, excluding some birds that are flying, making their own sounds, it's the sea that dominates your hearing, but as the little waves approach the shore they make one sound, the moment they hit the shore they make another sound, as the water smoothly slides on the sand going as far as it can reach it makes another sound, and finally, when it slides back into the sea it makes another sound. So, what initially seemed like one sound, turns out to be at least four different... Biiiiiig deal, I know, who cares?... But you see, if it is 7 in the morning in Canoa Quebrada, if you are aaaaaaaall alone in an endless stretch of perfect sand, if you are worlds away from everything that is your "normal" every day life, then...

7:30

Then you let yourself go, you familiarize yourself with the sound your feet make as you step on wet sand, or any other sound, smell, you have a silly smile drawn on your face non-stop, you even take pictures of beautiful cats that stare at you, who knows thinking what... At eight I can have breakfast, so I am slowly, keeping a really lazy pace, going back to my "pousada". I'm glad I chose to stay an extra day here, but deep down I am curious to see how I will feel in the night, whether I will have gotten bored or not. Other than walking on the sand and sitting atop some sand dune, there isn't much you can do here, this time of the year, so I wonder...

8am

Only yesterday I was writing about the pros of low season (not of course that it doesn't come with a bunch of cons as well...). Also, as I wrote yesterday, I am one of the two, only, people who are staying at this pousada, and the other guy, some Brazilian, must still be sleeping. Even though the atmosphere is seriously informal, Alexandra is remarkably punctuate. She asked me yesterday what time I would like to have breakfast, I said eight, and at eight sharp my breakfast is served. You can't see everything here, because I "sacrificed" some of the things I was offered, so as to have the pool at the upper end of the photo (look closer and you'll see it). This wasn't all, though. I was asked how exactly I wanted my omelet, my coffee, my everything... Talking about personal attention...

9:30

How would you react if you had a very close friend, a fanatic vegetarian, if one day you met and he took you to a steak house, urging you to try the juiciest steak of the house, admitting that the other day he himself got that tempted that he couldn't resist, betraying his hard-line vegetarian way of life? Well, if you were my friend and you saw this picture, you would be equally shocked. If there is one thing I hate while traveling, that's having co-travelers taking pictures of me. Regretfully, I am one of those tight-asses that can't stand the idea of being photographed, which means that I have been to some amazing places, only I have no picture of me to show to my grandchildren when I turn 70 (which of course is only a matter of speech, since I don't see myself becoming a grandfather, ever, for the simple reason that I don't see myself becoming a father first...). Here, not only I want to take a picture with me in, but given that I am all alone, I get in the trouble to use the damn self-shoot function of my Olympus, stabilizing it on some tiny tripod I am carrying with me. I'm telling you, this picture is nothing less than "archive material"...

10:15

I take this picture and the very same moment I know that this will be my new laptop wallpaper once I make it back home (it was, indeed, for a month, before replacing it with another picture I took, in Natal). There is something about this photo that wins it a special corner in my heart at once. It's the combination of the colours, the sand, the red in the boat's bottom, the little construction on the right, the sky, the... flock of tiny clouds far in the distance, the green on the left, at the top of that sand dune, but most of all, it's these two... have no idea how they are called in English, it's these two "things" on the boat, that give the picture, if you ask me, a rather... elegant touch. They remind me of someone who is holding a sword in one hand, pointing at his opponent, while keeping the other hand high up, the way sword fighters (not sure about this word either... "sword fighters") do, especially in movies, where sword fighting is presented like a whole... ritual. Simply put, I love this photo...

11:20

Back to my pousada for another dip in the pool. It's only 11 something, but excluding some short break for breakfast, I have been walking for almost five hours now, covering my sensitive skin with sun block every now and then. It's hot, as in... H O T, which of course I have nooooo problem with. I'm about to jump in the pool, Italian music from the 60s/70s is coming from the living room of my pousada (I grew up listening to this kind of music, because of my parents, so I am more than pleased that the guy who runs this place along with Alexandra is Italian, playing this music the whole day), I feel fantastic, and I catch myself thinking something that all solo travelers, I reckon, think about, at some point or another, while on the road: would I prefer being here with someone, a... say... special someone, or am I better off alone?...

2pm

In a previous post of mine I wrote that watermelon is my top favourite fruit. "My top favourite fruit", as in, "I can have watermelon for breakfast, lunch and dinner". Looking at all these watermelons at this grocery shop I think I must look the same way a young teen looks when he goes to buy milk at his mother's request, but he's only too willing to do that because in his neighbourhood's super market he can find a dozen porn magazines and take quick peaks. He wants them (the magazines, and not only...) all, I want them (the watermelons) all, I am drrrrrooling, but I can only carry one back to my pousada. That I do. In a while I will be having "lunch", watermelon, sitting at this little balcony outside my room, enjoying the view to the sea, surrounded by palm trees... If you go a few photos back, you'll see one of the establishments along Canoa Quebrada's coast is called "Lazy Days". Oh my... Lazy day indeed...

4:30pm

The sun won't be up for too long, and I am not leaving Canoa without going back to the top of that sand dune I walked to yesterday. I don't really know what else to write about how much I fell for this place... I feel so relaxed, as if a pair of very tender female hands have been massaging me for well over an hour now, and I have reached the point of mumbling "this is what being in paradise must be like... You want what? All the money I (don't) have in my bank account? Bring me a paper to sign, it's all yours, just keep massaging me..." Honestly, "relaxed" is too poor a word to describe how I feel, generally these last days, especially today, right now...

5:10pm

The locals call this pedestrian street, the only one in the village, the heart of the village, "Broadway" (Ooooook, if you say so...). As I wrote yesterday, this is not just low season, but a low season's working day (not weekend), which means that not even people from nearby Fortaleza are here. This place is as quite as it gets, and the only people you see in... Broadway are locals, families, old chaps, a donkey, some kids playing. Being the only tourist, I think, around, is hard to go unnoticed, with my small day-pack and the photo camera in hand. I'm going to spend the next half an hour sitting at some bench, just... watching the people go by, meaning the same 10-15 figures who go back and forth. I don't mind... Half a dozen old chaps are sitting close to me, and listening to them talk in Brazilian Portuguese is more than enough to make me happy. I love how it sounds, and I try to catch a word or two... Do I need to repeat what a seriously lazy day this has been?...

6pm

One last stroll on the beach. In the morning I was wondering if I would get bored after a second day here. I have my answer now. Nope... I could easily spend a third day here, I do, after all, have a flexible itinerary, that's what allowed me to spend an extra day here already, but staying for a third night would mean sacrificing one of the places I want to visit before finally finding my way back to Salvador da Bahia. After two days in Canoa Quebrada, I only have the fondest memories to remember, and this maybe is a good enough reason to leave tomorrow. It's like athletes who decide to end their career while they are still at the top. Play another year and maybe people will remember you like an old guy who should have quit a year ago, when he was still number one. If I stay another day here, I may end up spoiling my fond memories. I need fond memories, I don't want to risk the chances... Tomorrow morning I am taking the bus to Natal (where I was meant to discover a side of mine I honestly didn't know I had...).

Fortaleza - Canoa Quebrada

Wednesday, 13 June 2007

9am
Seconds before leaving behind the room I spent the last two nights in. I booked this room (Albergue Backpackers) through hostelbookers.com, even though people who had stayed there and left a review for future visitors to read, made the rooms sound as if they hardly ever get cleaned up. On the other hand, everyone who had stayed there, had a good word to say for Gisele, the young woman who runs the place. As for cleanliness, well, let me put it this way: if you've backpacked in India, NO negative comment regarding a hostel's cleanliness (or lack of) makes you sweat... If you ask me, I'd stay here again, even though before going to sleep the first night, I had to kill a big spider hanging over the part of the bed where my head would be while sleeping. For your information, I spared the other spiders (a whole... family of them) that were occupying the rest of the ceiling corners. What harm could they be?... Gisele WAS sweet and helpful, and I made sure to let Lonely Planet know, once I made it back home (you send them your impressions from a trip during which you have used a guidebook of theirs, you "reward" a nice place you stayed at or "punish" a bad one, you get a 20% discount code for next time you shop online on their website, AND you get to see your name at the back of their next edition of the guidebook you've reported on. Talking about a win-win-win situation...).

10:30
I always take a picture just before getting on a bus/train/plane/boat, leaving behind a place I have spent time at, for the same reason, I guess, I always take pictures of hotel/pension/hostel rooms I've slept in. The way I see it, it's something like a "goodbye", one last look before you turn your back for good, move on, close a small chapter and get on the road to soon open another one. When I don't take a last minute picture of a room or a place, it is a sign that I will try to forget it as soon as I can, not because there was something wrong with the room/place itself, but because things happened there, things I would prefer to erase from my memory. Does it work? Of course not... A bad memory, let alone traumas, are always there... The healthy way to deal with them, is to accept them as parts of life. The immature and silly way to deal with them (in other words... MY way of dealing with them), is to pretend they never happened...

2pm
For two days in Fortaleza, every time someone would ask me where I'd go next, he/she would seem surprised and look at me with a face expression screaming out loud "what's wrong with you?!" That's because I told everyone I was going east to Canoa Quebrada, and not west, to Jericoacoara. Both places are described as little coastal paradises on earth, but... let me put it this way: if these two places where museums in Madrid, Jeri would be "El Prado", and Canoa Quebrada would be "Reina Sofía"... If they were Milan's football teams, Jeri would be AC Milan and Canoa would be Inter... If they were pop music singers, Jeri would be Madonna, and Canoa would be Britney Spears (I can't believe I just used Spears as an example in my blog...). See my point? "Reina Sofía", Inter and Britney are great in their... categories, but they are not "El Prado", AC Milan and Madonna. Still, for my own reasons, I chose Canoa, and I was highly rewarded, more than what I could have ever dreamed... This picture is from my room. It was love at first sight...

3pm
I arrived at Canoa without having made any reservation. Mid June, middle of the week, this is as low season as it gets in Canoa Quebrada, so, needless to say, I was the only tourist on the bus. Luckily, as I got off the bus, a woman in her 40s approached me and asked me in Portuguese if I needed some room. Same moment, she started showing me pictures of this super cool place with great rooms, a piscine(!) and everything, so I tried to tell her in my close to non existent Portuguese that it should be too expensive for me. "Vinte reais", she said(!!!). Twenty reais (mind you, one euro is about 2.6 reais). "Vinte?!" asked shocked Dimitris. "Vinte", she repeated. Too good to be true, but it was... God bless low seasons... I followed Alexandra to her "pensão", and we spent those five minutes walking, with me sounding all cocky about how she has a name that is Ancient Greek (poor woman... Middle of the day, damn hot, all she wanted was to find a client, and there she was, having to survive a history lesson...). An hour later, I am walking on the beach, having these cliffs on my right, one of Canoa's "trademarks".

3:10pm
As already mentioned, this is low-low-low season in Canoa Quebrada, and that's not all. It is also the middle of the week. If I was here to party, if this is why I had come to Canoa, I would be in deep sh...trouble. Early in the morning, you are running late for work, you walk to the place where you have parked your car, you approach it, try to find the keys, they are nowhere, you realize you may have lost them, and what's even more, you see that the driver's window is broken, someone has smashed it and stolen your brand new CD player. Now you have to call your insurance, squeeze your head to remember where the f...heck you have left the keys, AND prepare the little excuse speech you'll need to give your boss for running late. How worse can it get?... Luckily, I'm here just to... enjoy a quiet day walking on a cool sandy beach, so...

3:20
Ok, I just lied... This is not really why I am here. I am here because... gosh, I am almost ashamed to admit it... I am here, at this so advertised place, at this little piece of land which countless Brazilians and foreign tourists are dreaming of visiting one day, only because I wanted to break in two the bus journey from Fortaleza to Natal. There you go, I said it... If you think about it, it's nothing less than an insult... It's like your girlfriend gives you her favourite t-shirt as a gift, as a sign of love, and what you do with the t-shirt is use it to dust off your furniture... Shame... Well, I'd never do that with a piece of cloth someone would give me as a gift, but... shoot me, I'm not a fan of this kind of places, Canoa and Jericoacoara are not... my thing, I just want to get to Natal, but I detest (read my lips, D E T E S T I say), buses, so I need to break the journey in two. This is why I am here, and... Ok, up to 10%, maximum, for a second reason...

3:30
This is my 10% (hardly that...) second reason. I read in my guidebook that you can find sand dunes in Canoa, and that's something I would like to see. Sand dunes are not that common in Greece, so... you know... whatever you are not that used to, attracts your attention, your interest, and if going to a place where you can enjoy it is piece of cake, then... why not? Here I am almost at the top of the sand dune, and trust me, it feels... special. You are at the top of a sand hill, you have the Atlantic Ocean on one side, a cute little village on another side, and an endless green sea of trees on yet another side, not to mention a glorious sky. On top of that, you are here all alone, something I consider a blessing and a curse, depending on the occasion. The way I see it, solitude is a blessing when YOU choose IT, and a curse when IT chooses YOU. Here, now, for me it's a blessing...

3:50
This pedestrian street is the very heart of the village. If it was high season, this place would be jam packed with people. If it was, at least, low season but weekend, it would still have lots of people. Now? Now it has a couple of locals, me, and shop keepers who (I bet) are ready to fall asleep, if it hasn't happened already... I'm on my way back to my room, and I have already made an unprecedented decision... I have a fantastic room, the Brazilian/Italian couple that runs the place have Italian CDs playing all the time (as the Italian guy told me), it's quiet, the beach is loooooooooooooong, the sand hill is impressive, I feel sooooooooo relaxed, so... what's keeping me from staying here an extra day? Nothing, actually. Who would have thought?... I came here to break my bus trip to Natal in two, and I fell for this place that much as to decide to spend an extra day(!). Who?! The one who cannot stand this kind of "coastal paradises". I guess there is a first time for everything, no?

4:40
The Italian guy is glad to hear that I want to stay an extra night. I am one of the two, only, people staying here (the other one is some Brazilian in his 40s), so my 20 reais for the extra night are very welcomed. The sun no longer hits the water of the pool, it's a little chilly, but who cares? I have a whole (Ok, a small one) pool for myself, the small yard is surrounded by palm trees which I LOVE, it feels "wow", so I'm not missing this chance. Coming to Brazil I didn't intend to swim in the sea, and most definitely I didn't think I would stay at some place with a pool, so I haven't even brought swimming shorts. Big deal... A pair of underwear will do the job... You CANNOT skip using the pool when you are staying at a place with one. This is... 1+1=2, and I am not that good in mathematics, but I'm good enough to know this...

5pm
Picture taken from the door of my room. It's "that" time of the day, the time that the sun has come that down as to make all colours seem warmer... I use to say this is my favourite time of the day, and especially when I'm traveling I catch myself thinking sometimes that I wish I had a button I could push to make time stop, freeze, so I could enjoy the colours as warm as now, for an indefinite period of time. Then again, maybe it's a good thing that dreamy situations don't last for too long, that there is no button we can push to make time freeze. Would we appreciate those occasional little magic moments if they were the rule and not only the exception to the rule?...

6:30pm
This pizza and a coke are going to cost me as much as a night's accommodation, but there is this pizza place I saw on my way from the bus stop to my room, and then again in the afternoon, and... well, the... sneaky people who run the place make sure to break your nose with the smell, so... I didn't think twice before surrendering to the inevitable. Needless to say, I am the only customer, which comes with all its pros and cons. Pros? I don't need to wait other people's pizzas to be prepared first. The pizza is brought to me by a cute young woman who seems to be running the place, and she puts it on my table with a smile on her face, while, I guess, if the place was full, she would be running from table to table, too busy to smile and wish customers to enjoy their pizza. Cons? I don't handle attention that well. I prefer going unnoticed, I prefer being "invisible". Once my order is prepared, the three women who are working here have nothing more to do, and every now and then I notice them looking at me, say something and giggle, not in an offensive way, but still... you know, I feel awkward. They look at me as if they are thinking "did he lose his path? What is he doing here THIS time of the year?" Luckily, another woman comes soon, she is with her daughter, an aaaaadorable little creature, and everyone's attention turns to the kiddo. Unfortunately, even the kiddo's attention is drawn by this weird looking guy who is sitting alone at some corner, so there we go again, another round of "aaaah, those silly tourists who don't know when is the right time to be here" giggles...
Late afternoon and early night are going to be spent with the Italian guy who is running the place I'm staying at. I am trying to resurrect from my memory my Italian, I do a lousy job, but somehow I make myself understood. I begin a sentence and the Italian chap somehow senses my thoughts and finishes up the sentences for me... He doesn't miss Italy that much, he loves spending his days in a hammock, loves the weather and the slow pace of life here. He's not after making a fortune, he says he leads a peaceful and carefree life, and looks genuinely content, as almost in a state of nirvana... He's not that young, he must be in his early 50s... I wonder, an Italian businessman who lives in Milan, has his driver driving him to work every day in his luxurious Alfa Romeo, works non stop to make his fortune grow and buy another summer house at Sorrento, another yacht, maybe a small castle in Scotland, having hardly any spare time to stand still for a moment, look out of his wall to wall office glass and enjoy the view from the 60th floor of his company's skyscraper, is he happier than this guy who spends his days wearing simple shorts, an old looking t-shirt, listening to music while lying in a hammock?...

Fortaleza

Tuesday, 12 June 2007

9am
You want to go from your house to some place which is a 30 minutes' walk away, but the traffic is horrible and also in the end you'll have to spend a quarter of an hour searching for a place to park your car? No problem... Walk, or ride your bicycle. Are you expecting a promotion, but instead your boss leaves you speechless by telling you that you are being laid off? Great! Get your hands on as much money as you can gather and go on that round the world trip you had been dreaming for years now, but kept postponing because you were always too busy. You had plans for dinner in a fancy "you can't get in unless you are wearing a suit and a tie" restaurant, but the last moment the plan is called off? Woo-hoo! Stay home, order a pizza, and watch that game you would miss while "enjoying" that formal dinner you didn't really want to go to, in the first place... Are you in Fortaleza, you wake up all anxious to go for a walk along the endless beach, but you see the sky all gloomy, as if a huge cloud decided to lie down on earth and take a nap? No sweat. Go buy that bus ticket you need for tomorrow, and the sky will clear up, eventually... (In the picture you see Catedral da Sé).

9:30
No offence meant, but this part of Fortaleza cannot exactly be described as "attractive". The ugly buildings far outnumber the... decent looking ones, but still, there are some small pedestrian streets, and basically there are people everywhere, which makes the area very lively. I am not left with my mouth open, admiring the architecture, but... big deal... Walking around this part of the city is kind of fun. The faces look different to the ones I had gotten used to in Rio de Janeiro, loud music is coming from a couple of CD stores that must have some kind of offers, other shops have loud speakers outside promoting their own offers, everyone seems to be either selling or buying something, all in all... I forgive the gloomy sky for messing up my plan for the day (as if I could do otherwise...).

10am
Praça dos Martires. There is a reason this seemingly meaningless picture is here. Last night I walked and walked along the coastal road of central Fortaleza, and despite all the stories I had read about prostitution in the city, I only saw ONE "night lady" who whistled and sent me a kiss from the other side of the street, hoping I would be her next client. ONE I say. As I am heading to the main tourist info office of the city, at ten in the morning, I come across this little park, and immediately I notice three women in their 35s sitting in different benches, smiling at me(!). Judging by the way they are dressed, I swear, you'd never tell that they were prostitutes, but as I walk around the tiny park, they approach me and say something from which I only understand "amor", or something very similar. Eham... I think it's quite safe to say that none of those three fell for me head over heels the moment they saw me, all three together(!!!). Who would have thought?... This looks like a park grandfathers must be coming with their grandchildren... (or else I am just too naive...).

12:30pm
Turns out I had to go all the way to the bus station, quite some distance away from the center, to buy my Canoa Quebrada ticket. Once again, a little dose of positive thinking works miracles. The sky is still too damn gloomy, and this IS my one and only full day at Fortaleza, but what the heck, the sun WILL come out, at some point, so, in the meantime, "touring" the city on city buses going to the bus station and back, doesn't go under the "waste of time" category. With the ticket bought, I am back to the center, at the Mercado Central, a place with dozens of little shops, and super opportunities for people watching... (Ok, I admit it, screw positive thinking, I DEMAND the sky to clear up ASAP, or else, or else, or else... or else I'll spend the rest of the day mumbling every now and then the worst words I know, turning the clouds red out of shame for being unfair to rotten spoiled me -suuuuuuure, as if the clouds could care less...).

1:10pm
There MAY be God, after all! Getting out of Mercado Central I get a coconut to drink, reminding myself of some total losers at casinos, who first lose all their money, and then, all despaired, turn to alcohol to find some comfort (Ok, I'm being a liiiiittle dramatic here, shoot me...). That's when hope blinks at me! A little ray of sunlight makes way through the clouds, this annoying grey sheet above our heads finally decides to move its butt and go spoil someone else's day, so on my feet I am, walking fast towards the beach. This picture is shot at Ponte Metalica, at the westernmost point of Praia de Iracema. Come oooooon sun! Come oooooooon blue sky! Come to think of it, it feels as if you are driving your car, seeing the gas sign blinking, letting you know that you have almost run out of gas. The thing is, you are in the middle of nowhere, so all you can do is repeat "come on, come on, come on", hoping the gas will last until the first gas station. You promise yourself you will never be that careless again, as to let the tank get that empty, but... whom are you kidding, really?... Some day you will do it again (or is it just me?). "Coooooome on, clear up you stupid sky, and I will never ask you the same thing again!" (Rrrrrrright).

1:20
Standing on the pier, facing east. I've never smoked in my life, I can't stand smoke, and I don't see myself smoking, ever. But, to be honest, there is one little-tiny-small thing I am curious about, regarding smoking. I wonder why smokers enjoy THAT much lightening up a cigarette right after sex... I wonder how come they look sooooooooo happy doing that. Anyhow, picture a smoker naked in bed, right after... you know, with that "life is goooooooooood, after all" look on his face, and you have me, here, looking at what I came to Fortaleza for, all ready to do what I came to Fortaleza for: enjoy a beach stroll under the sun. Not that much to ask...

2:20
In my city, Thessaloniki, Greece, by law, no building can be taller than 8-9 floors, excluding a couple of apartment blocks that have 12. That's it. Our "skyscrapers" are 12 floors high. For that reason, I am always impressed when I see tall buildings, the way some Amazon tribes are, I guess, when they see, first time ever, people with all blond hair and blue eyes. Fortaleza's beach front is dotted with tall buildings, many of which have "pronto para morar" ("ready to live in") signs hanging in front of them. During my little research before coming here, I read people's stories, I mean people from Europe (especially Scandinavian countries) and the US, who bought apartments here, and either moved, or just keep them to have a place to stay every time they want to escape from harsh weather back home. Why not? Seriously, why the heck not? I wonder how much an apartment like these costs. My question was meant to be answered later, the same day...

4pm
I walked and walked and walked, and at some point I saw a lady selling coconuts next to a marble bench along the coastal road. I have my coconut, close to me there is a guy lying on the marble bench, he looks homeless (harmless too), so I follow his example, something that leads to a rather... weird scene. This photo is taken as I am lying on the bench. A second later, the lady who sold me the coconut earlier, comes, and in Portuguese she says things I cannot understand. I do understand one word: ladrões (thieves). Even if I hadn't caught this one word, it would still be easy to understand that she was trying to advise me against being so... carefree as I seemed to be (as I WAS, actually). Her gestures speak for themselves. She must be saying that ladrões could appear any second now, hit me and steal the camera. I don't need a high IQ to get it... But, how can it be? Everything around looks so... peaceful. Sure, I have read about criminality in Brazil, but... give me a break... The sun is up, the coastal road is full of people, how can I possibly be in danger?...

4:20
Earlier during my walk, I met a guy named Ricky, some American from Bronx (originally from Puerto Rico), who came to Fortaleza years ago as a sailor, fell in love with a local, moved here, and now is making a living by selling tours to tourists he finds along the beach. I meet him again, he is a really chatty cheerful guy, I tell him about the coconut lady, and she acts as if the lady had told me the most natural thing in the world. No, she wasn't exaggerating, bad things could have happened to me if I stayed on that bench, "provoking" potential "ladrões" with my carefreeness... He tells me only last week a tourist had been stubbed, in broad daylight. Another tourist had gotten lucky, someone had warned him that a bunch of thieves were about to attack him, and the thieves got mad at the local who warned the tourist, and later the same day they stubbed the local himself. Ricky himself had his bag snatched a couple of days ago... How can I be so blind? How can I not see that things are not that dreamy as I have convinced myself they are? I don't know... I guess it's one of those cases that something needs to happen to YOU, or if not to you, then at least to someone else, but in front of your eyes, to fully believe what you are being told...

4:30
Ricky joins me for a beer. We talk about... practically everything. How he left his life in the States, how he struggles to make ends meet (is this the right expression?) in Fortaleza (I mean... financially), how his life used to be, how it is now, how it could be in the future, Fortaleza, things he likes here, things he can't stand, criminality, prostitution, foreigners buying apartments (he says a new one on the coastal road can cost as little as 40,000 American dollars!!!), Greece, traveling... All in all, I end up feeling that I am talking to a pal of mine. I feel jealous of and sad for him at the same time. Jealous, because... let's be serious now, he lives in a naturally blessed piece of land, he enjoys twelve months of summer a year, and he is sharing his life with a Brazilian girl. Let's face it, worse things can happen to someone than living in such a place, having a Brazilian woman waiting for him every night at home... On the other hand, money seems to be a problem for him, and I get the impression that he feels bad he can't give his girl all that he'd like. Plus, there are some other issues, money related, I'd prefer not to mention. That's life...

5:30pm
Being so close to the Equator, means that the sun doesn't stay up until that late. It's been a... great day, yet another one. Because of the morning weather I got to see a part of the city and a face of the city I would have, most probably, missed, otherwise. Later on, when my grumpiness had started taking control of me, the weather spared my spoiled ass, and offered me the chance to have one of the best walks EVER. I liked Fortaleza, and from now on I will crack a smile every time I think of this place. Apparently it's not the paradise on earth naive me thinks it is, but still, it is beautiful. The locals I talked to were cool, friendly, smiley, helpful, the beach is long, and (note to myself), super cool apartments in coastal apartment blocks cost anything but a fortune(......... I think the extra dots speak for themselves, disclosing inner thoughts/dreams of mine).

Rio de Janeiro - Fortaleza

Monday, 11 June 2007

7:30am

Going down the stairs for my last Rio breakfast... Isn't there something "warm" and... quaint about wooden stairs? Sure, they creak and "moan", sometimes they feel as if they are really old people who have had a tough life and can hardly make a step now, without feeling their last bone hurt (generally speaking, I'm not talking about my hostel's stairs in particular), but... they do feel "warm", don't they? As for these stairs, for 3-4 days now, they have been whispering me "have a great day" every morning, and "you look as if you walked from here to São Paulo. Go have some rest" every night, so I say they deserve a little corner in my blog...

9:30

In the bus I took to go to the airport... This "thing" on the right, this "thing" I don't even know how it's called in Greek (but I bet the origin of the word in English can only be Greek, because... well... the father of the bride in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" was right, every word comes from Greek -rrrrrrright), is something I saw first time ever here, in Rio. I mean on buses... You pay the driver, he presses a button, he "unlocks" this "thing", you push, it "obeys", and you're in. Same thing when you get off (eham, without the "you pay the driver" part, of course...). Things that draw a newbie's in Brazil attention, huh?...

10:15
I know, I know, save your breath, this is a seriously horrible picture, but it's a matter of perspective, this is not a picture, this is a "note" in my virtual notebook. Ten minutes ago I was at this very same spot, I saw the line, but I thought that I had nothing to do with it, so I moved on and went to Gol's (my airline) counters to check in. That's when I realized that this unbelievable line had everything to do with me. Where are the counters? Well, from the spot I took this photo from, you go straight ahead for... a couple of kilometers, you turn left, you... cross a bridge, you climb a mountain, you swim through a deep river, you go down a steep gorge, and then you are only a day's walk away. That's where the counters are...

11:30

I don't know what you do when you face a situation which is just too bloody annoying, but personally, I laugh, that kind of laugh that doesn't reflect the mood of a happy person, more like works as a "pill" to calm you down and keep you from smashing your head against some wall. Your team loses ten times in a row, you are way passed the point of being mad at your players, you just... laugh, that's all you can do to deal with this unprecedented losing streak... But, doing Brazil and the situation in its airports justice, I have to say that today is a special occasion. Sure, generally the airports have problems, delays are all too common, but the TV crews that have showed up, taking pictures of the endless lines, say that today is... really something, even for Brazilian standards.

11:50

After an hour and 35 minutes I am that close to checking in. I'm still laughing every now and then, but by now my laughter is genuine, is because I'm having fun. How? Well, on my right, people come every now and then, people who have seen the lines and thought they didn't need to stand in them, people who, reaching the counters, realize that they have to go aaaaaaaaaall the way back, and oh yeah, stand in the line. Ooooooh, the looks on their faces are really priceless, a mixture of surprise, shock, horror, frustration, priceless I say! The little sadist in me is sooooo content...

4pm

The plane has started the landing procedure, we can clearly see a coast with sand dunes west of Fortaleza. I've read my guidebook, I've checked people's travel blogs, I've posted questions on travel fora (yeah, I'm a smart ass, I don't write "forums" because the plural of "forum" is "fora", like "stadium-stadia" -or I just made a complete ass of myself...), and I'm telling you, this city does not exactly have the best possible name... In Lonely Planet's suggested itineraries, Fortaleza is... invisible. It's just the place you pass through on your way from legendary Jericoacoara to Canoa Quebrada or vice versa. "Prostitution" is a word that comes up all too often while digging online for information regarding the city. Still, it is a city, a coastal one, and geographically it suits me juuuuust perfect as the beginning on my overland trip back to Salvador da Bahia. Besides, I'm a huge cities' fan, make me choose between a weekend in a gritty city and a week in some fancy beach resort and I'll grab that city weekend before you have time to finish presenting me your offer...

5:40

At Rio's airport first I laughed because I was pissed waiting in that endless line, then I laughed because I had fun seeing other terrified passengers realizing how big the line they had to wait in was, now it's time to laugh out of surprise, feeling that fate is pulling a sick trick on me... I have just checked in the place were I will spend my two nights in Fortaleza, I have paid the sweet young woman who runs the place, and I am waiting for her mother (in law?) to bring me the change. My eyes fall on this. What is this? It's called "Vegeta", a product people use in Croatia (as well as in many other countries, since this product is being exported) to add extra taste to food. It's produced by a company named "Podravka". Podravka has its headquarters in Koprivnica, a tiny place east of Zagreb, close to the Hungarian border. Punch line: Podravka is the company my ex girlfriend is working for... Seriously, what were the chances?! I am half a planet away, I am in a tiny hostel-like place, in a city which is not exactly every tourist's in Brazil first choice, and here it is, a handproof that this is a ridiculously small planet, after all... Turns out some Croatians were here a few weeks ago, they left it behind...

7:30

Having enjoyed a m a j e s t i c shower (meaning having water running regularly and not in five seconds' doses as in my Rio hostel, meaning without having a line of people waiting behind me to use the shower), I hit the road for my first Fortaleza stroll. I'm being cautious, I've read creepy stories about things that happened to tourists along the beach, especially in the night, but, once again, my cautiousness soon starts feeling unecessary. Kids are playing on the sand, the people who pass by me look "Ok", the place is well lit, so... yeah, the photo camera can come out.

7:40

In the morning I had to wait at some bus stop twice, to catch two buses going to the airport. At the airport I had to stand in line for... an eternity, and after that, I was stuck in a seat for even more hours. Then, I got on another bus to go downtown Fortaleza. After all this standing, waiting and being stuck in seats, I can finally walk (given that soon I will find something to put in my moaning stomach). I think now I know how bears feel once they wake up from their hibernation and are so hungry they are ready to eat anything...

8pm

The beach is long, and the more west you go, the more people you see. People, as in strollers, kids having fun on the beach, the occasional jogger, and of course "those guys", guys who make a living by washing and "looking after" cars their owners leave on the other side of the street. After Portugal, Brazil is the second country where I see something like that. What do you do if you are a car owner here and want to park your car and go have a beer or something at some bar? You pay "those guys" a little something and have your peace of mind, knowing that you will find the car at its place when you go back (plus, washed), or you ignore "those guys" (whom you have no legal obligation to pay, of course), risking to... well... use your imagination... I guess car owners here have kind of compromised with this situation, unthinkable as it may look to Greek me...

8:10

I like it... Give me a coastal city I can walk and walk being close to the sea, and I'm happy. I'm easy to satisfy... I'm like a puppy who swings its tail when you throw it a ball or something... I'm heading west and the coastal road gets busier and busier. It feels... relaxing. I mean... it feels so laid back. I can't help it, I keep comparing Brazil to India, because India was my previous big destination. In a big Indian city, say... Hyderabad, or Chennai, to name two of the several I went to, the very attempt to cross a street can prove to be a challenge. Walking on a sidewalk can prove to be a challenge (for too many a reason), the noise is overwhelming, the smells are overwhelming, the crowds are overwhelming, and in the end of the day you feel every single second of the last 24 hours stuck on your skin. I mean it well, honestly, I'm not saying all these with a critical tone, I just... state facts. Here... Here it just feels that you are on vacation, you relax, you stroll around, the atmosphere is so laid back, everything feels easy, the cars don't scream in your ears, and... no matter how much I dream of going back to India one day, I have to confess my sin, I seriously like how different Brazil is to India, shoot me...

8:50

I see a lady all traditionally dressed selling "acarajé", and I have to try it. Underline "try"... After a couple of attempts to enjoy it, I accept my defeat. I can't eat it... I did the polite thing I had to do, tasted it in front of her and acted as if I liked it, very much actually, waved goodbye and a minute later I was looking for the closest dust bin. Aaaaaah, India... I'd sell my right kidney right now to have a "thali" in front of me, a typical South Indian meal... Mmmmmm... Oh well, we can't have everything, can we now...

10:20pm

In five minutes I will be in my room. After four days at huge Rio de Janeiro, Fortaleza feels like a little town, which is not, but... you know what I mean. I'm totally relaxed... I have a general itinerary in mind, but the only thing that is for sure is that one specific day I must be back to Salvador da Bahia to catch my flight back to Europe. Everything else, is up to me. I can go anywhere I want, spend as little or as much time as I want, given that I will not lose track of time and miss my flight back to Europe, which of course I wouldn't mind, but no matter how tempting the Brazilian "Sirens" sound, this grand-grand-grand-a thousand times grand-child of Ulysses has to resist the temptation and get his butt on that flight to Frankfurt/Thessaloniki...