Monday, November 17th, 2008
Perhaps one of the more romantic places in Bahia (as in, go here for your honeymoon!) is the island of Itaparica. About thirty minutes by boat across the Bay of All Saint’s from Salvador, it is larger than what I imagined from reading about it in books. I thought it would be a tiny sliver of land, tucked in amongst other larger islands. Upon arrival, though, I saw the treed landscape spreading out to my left and right. The beachfront stretches out for what seems like miles, dotted by green banks and red-roofed houses. Mar Grande itself is a small town, but it breathes like a mini-city: restaurants and cafes line the street adjacent to the town square; an ever-changing row of taxis stands at attention, awaiting passengers; and music floats onto the street from either a café or someone’s car stereo. I stayed in Itaparica (the town shares the same name as the island) for two months, and was lucky to do so because I felt I had a real taste of island life. I had the good fortune of interviewing of one of the older residents of Itaparica – she was a veritable walking library! A retired professor, Dona Casimela maintains a healthy memory bank of knowledge about how life used to be on Itaparica. As she described, it was a self-sustaining nexus – a place from which many passenger boats (instead of the single fleet that runs today) used to zip to and from Salvador. It was home to many factories and thriving businesses; money stayed on the island, moving from people’s pockets to the businesses and back again, in a healthy economic cycle. Nothing stays the same, however, especially economies. Given the nature of urbanization, people and money started moving off of the island. The factories closed, the passenger boat fleet shrank its numbers; attention shifted to Salvador – now the source of most people’s jobs, food, and activities.
A monkey on the island of Itaparica
What remains on the island, however, is small town living. There is a peace, calm and deep beauty there. What you cannot find in Salvador is tranquility, or under-populated beaches. On Itaparica, you can stay in beautiful B & B’s and truly relax now that there is no longer the din of the city surrounding you. What you do hear are birds whistling, monkeys chattering, and the occasional peacock emitting its strange meow. You can hear children playing, capoeira music drafting out from studio open windows, and festivities livening up the town center. In downtown Itaparica, you can sit in the square, eat homemade ice cream (flavors made from Amazon fruits, even) overlooking the sea; you can leisurely dine at one of the restaurants lining the square. Afterwards, you can stroll along the beachfront paths, watching the lights blink on the water’s surface. If it’s beach time you’re seeking, there’s no better place than Itaparica. You’ll be lucky enough to watch the fishermen pulling in their day’s catch and capoeiristas practicing their fluid moves. Maybe the economy has slowed down here, but the romance has not!
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Saturday, November 8th, 2008
Yemanjá, goddess of the sea, in Salvador da Bahia, Brazil
If I told you to go to Brazil for your honeymoon, would you go? You should. If I told you to go to Brazil because you will never experience another country like it, would you go? You should. If I told you to go to Brazil because it might change your life, would you go? You should. It’s that simple! I could easily start any blog entry or travel update with this – let’s call it – hint. But never mind, even if you’re not getting married, and not necessarily seeking a lovely destination to celebrate your union to the one you love, nor are you really seeking a life-changing experience, Brazil will still call out to you. How? The most obvious, of course, is the mermaid who floats about in the seas off Salvador da Bahia, in the northeast of Brazil. Her name is Yemanjá, one of the orixás in Brazil’s candomblé religion. She is the queen of the ocean, patroness of the fishermen and survivors of shipwrecks, the feminine element of creation, and the spirit of moonlight. If you visit Salvador, you will see Yemanjá celebrated in statues and sculptures; in paintings and advertisements; and at the right times of the year (February and December, to name two), in festivals that take place in the sands next to the sea. My own experience with Yemanjá took place while riding the lancha (technically, the word means “launch” in Portuguese, but the small passenger boat has come to be known this way) from the island of Itaparica to Salvador city one late morning in September. I sat in the back of the boat, on a bench with my back to the sea; it is perhaps one of the best commutes in the world. Feeling the sun on my neck and the sea spray sprinkle my arm,
En route to the lancha, crossing the bay from Itaparica to Salvador da Bahia, Brazil
I didn’t mind the half hour journey. It surely beat driving or sitting in a taxi or riding a train. While I sat, I talked to my friend next to me, my head turned to the side so he could hear me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light shimmer above the sea’s surface. I turned quickly to watch; a pod of three or four dolphins made a quick display, shooting out of the water and in less than a second, disappearing again. I pointed and made some sort of noise; a few other people turned and looked out over the sea; but there was only the churning water from the boat’s wake. I watched attentively, unfortunately ignoring my friend for the remainder of the ride. The dolphins never surfaced again. I began to wonder if, after all, maybe what I saw was something else. Maybe she was a silvery, ephemeral mermaid leaping out of the water, stretching in the sun, and observing her domain on the topside of the sea. I imagined that perhaps she wanted to meet me, greet me, and welcome me to Bahia; and to remind me, with that quick disappearance, that I should soak in the beauty around me because it could disappear in a flash. And it did disappear – I did leave Brazil; I no longer have that lancha commute and I no longer feel the sea spray on my arm as I journey across the bay. But the memory is solid, despite its watery nature! You must see and feel for yourself…go to Bahia and spend some time near the sea. And keep your eyes peeled for silvery flashes of light.
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