Beach day! Callled for breakfast delivery and contemplate to move or not to move. After much discussion, we decide to stay put. Pack up the backpack and walk to town to catch the bus to the local beach. One the way, we discover a wonderful gallery with all sorts of interesting art work, paintings and sculptures. Catch the bus and it takes a whole eleven minutes to our stop. Stroll on the sidewalk along/above the beach, gaping at how crowded the sand and the water is. Chairs and umbrellas everywhere and snack vendors dotted along the hot sidewalk. A beautiful day! Keep walking to check out the scene and come to the other side of the fort that juts out into the water. Hmmmmm, this beach is almost completely empty. Very rocky shore, but we can wade into the water in a couple of places, so we decide to set up camp.
I should tell you about the Brazilian beach experience, though. As we wander to a spot, a gentleman comes up to ask if we’d like chairs and/or an umbrella. Well, of course. He returns with said equipment and relieves us of 7 real (about $4.20). We then slather on the protection (missing a few key spots, as always) and plop into our chairs.
After a bit, and then all day long, vendors walk buy us to see if we are interested in what they have to offer. But PLEASE do not think that this is anything like what you have experienced on a Carribean or Mexican beach. These people look your way, and if you gently shake your head no, they just keep on going. So pleasant. And the selection: scarves, bathing suits, single servings of suntan lotion, hats, shrimp in a stick, fish in Tupperware, beer, ice cream, the little charcoal buckets and cheese on sticks to grill and dip into oregano (Valerie’s favorite), and even the young man walking with a silver tray with the local specialty of acaraje (more on that later). A veritable cascade of strolling minstrels.
So anyway, we are sitting under our umbrella, checking out the scenery, and alternating stints in and out of the sun. Mighty powerful, that. And, inevitably, it’s time to eat something. I make the first run because I saw the teardrop shaped delicacy on the list of must-haves and go off in search. I find the coxinha in a little store and buy two of those along with a pastel do franga (like a chicken empanada). Coxinha is a teardrop-shaped wad of mashed potatoes that have been formed around chopped and seasoned chicken and then deep-fried. Picked up smirnoff’s version of a canned caipirinha (national cocktail with lots of lime and alcohol) and trotted back to minha amiga. As I prepare to trot down the steps to the beach, I encounter a woman who has set up a stand and is frying up a mixture of fried manioc flour and making another food item from the list of “must-haves”. So, being the intrepid gastranomic explorer, I order one of those as well! Valerie and I enjoy the first round that I brought back and then I bring over the acaraje, which is definitely a thing of beauty (picture to be posted later). Fried croquette like a light, spicy hushpuppy, with creamy nut puree on the side and a mixture of sauteed minced veggies on the other, small grilled shrimp with shell but not tail on and a dollop of superhot sauce. Miguel!!
It was sooooo yummy. Aaaah, nap time for sure.
What’s this? The water is coming in closer and closer. Really hardly any rocks left and we take turns enjoying the pleasant water and jumping the waves. More sun time. I’m parched! Go across the street to the corner juice bar (forgot to tell you about the juice bars on the corner that serve up all kinds of fresh juices – Valerie had me try acerola, which she loved, but was so tart that it turned my mouth inside out) and bring back a mango slush, fresh lime juice and (yes, the third!) another must-have, traditional acai na tigela com granola (amazonian fruit smoothie in a bowl topped with granola and sliced bananas – a favorite of local surfers). Chill out and proceed to burn my tummy in the sun…yowie!
While negotiating for some fun little amethyst rings, we and most of the beach were caught unawares by a rogue wave which covered the whole beach up to the retaining wall. Shoes went swimming, hats and flip-flops went every which way (in case you didn’t know, havianas appear to be the national shoe here just like subarus are the Colorado state car), and everyone was squealing and chattering. I quickly scooped up my backpack with my camera and then realized that one of my tennis shoes, which I need next week for hiking, had gone MIA. Now that was something I didn’t want to have to replace! Running around like pepper when she can’t find her ball (although my tail was not wagging) I finally heard someone who had found it about ten feet away calling me. About the same distance in the other direction was my errant flip-flop. All was well. Cleaned everything off, packed up and headed to the bus stop and back home.
Fifteen minutes later, back in the hood, worked on blog, then out to dinner and a show of Bahian Folklore dance. Great dinner out in a garden under the stars, then walked down the tricky cobblestones to the theatre where we enjoyed an hour of traditional African and Brazilian dance. Among the slections were a fire dance, a former slave dance celebrating the end of the sugarcane harvest and the famed capeira, which is a kind of martial arts (descended from a form of self-defense that slaves used) and dancing. Then they performed an exhibition of samba which included flips, single handsprings and other astounding moves that made cirque de soleil look tame. Walked through the streets back to our favorite coffee shop, with an open balcony and view of the harbor (cruise ship is gone and I continue to comment on the number of cargo ships constantly coming and going) to discuss the human condition, then home to rest up for another taxing day.