Brazil: Barreirinhas

17.09.2013

• Today is a day that Kevin admits he is glad not to be traveling with me. Up at 3:30am for a shared taxi to the airport at 4:15am and a flight at 6:20am to Recife where I had a short stop over before flying to Fortaleza where I had an other short layover before flying to Sao Luiz. Finally, Sao Luiz. Here I had a good chance to get some food and check in with a very kind person at the information desk who helped me decide that instead of getting a taxi to the bus station for a 7pm departure I could spend the same total amount of money (USD#21.50) for private transport. Settled. So, I climbed in the car where I first met Fernando and Raquel a couple from Rio with the same destination as me. We set off our the next leg of our journey which, it would seem, was to begin running errands for the driver and picking up another passenger. Then, we were finally on the road to Barreirinhas, a mere four hour drive. I slept on and off while my new friends in the back chatted and the nearly full moon watched in silent disregard. I was roused as we entered town so I could name my destination of Pousada Vitoria do Lopes. I checked into my private room and emailed the "I'm here safe, five cities and 17 hours later. Actually, not bad as travel days go for me lately. Sleep. 

18.09.2013

• Today, I sleep in and miss breakfast. Worth it. I got ready and made my way to the Santos Transport and Tourism which I had read about on Wikitravel and which my friends Fernando and Raquel had recommended. Having an idea of what I wanted to do when I got here but no pre-planning done and armed with an assumption that it would work out anyway, I found the agency's office and booked 11 hours of tours over the next two days for a total of USD$43 (just more than USD$4 an hour which seems terrible inexpensive; perhaps, because it is. 
• I had time to spend before my first tour so found a restaurant to stuff my hungry belly. Seems I ended up at the same restaurant as my driver from last night which was good because this morning I had been thinking that I should have asked for his phone number to arrange a trip back to Sao Luiz. Done! I bought snacks, stopped at an artisan market (where I maybe bought napkin rings because they are small and inexpensive and easy to ship and will go nicely with my other two sets - sorry, Kevin, sort of) and sat in the shade by the water.
• When the time rolled around I made my way back to Santos where I was loaded into the back of a Toyota 4x4 which was rigged with four rows of bench seats in a roll cage. We picked up other tourists around town, the first of which was a group who were eating at the same restaurant for lunch and who are from Belem, my next stop! The last passengers to saddle up were none other than Fernando and Raquel, my friends from the car ride into town last night! What luck! After one last stop for water and snacks we made our way to the river where tour trucks were loaded on a ferry with tourists standing beside them for the short crossing. On the other side, a long sandy road led us through the brush thrashing about on the bumps and dips and deep, sandy turns. I imagined that my horseback riding experience in Costa Rica was coming in handy now as I tried to steady myself in the bucking truck. 
• Finally we arrived to our destination in the Lencois Maranhense National Park, a  mass of yellow in a zoomed-out view on Google Earth comprised of more than 1500 square kilometers of immense sand dunes stretched along the sea. While the rolling dunes may summon the word dessert this park is nothing of the sort as it receives more than 60 inches of rain each year. This fresh rain water collects during the rainy season (May - September) into fresh water lakes between the dunes, one after another, for kilometers on end, some even supporting marine life. My trip here is made on recommendation from Luz, my dinner companion and new friend in Rio. I'd never heard of this place before she spoke of it, seemingly transfixed by the memory as she recounting her time here. It was enough to cast a spell on my travel planning and it became a must-do for me in Brasil. Despite my determination to make it here (instead of the countless other stops recommended to me by nearly everyone I meet, local and traveler alike) I felt strangely unmoved as I sat in my seat on that truck. I was excited to be moving and doing something new but without any great thrill of anticipation. It was another tour to another pretty place, I was sure, but nothing more. Perhaps I have seen so many new things so frequently these past few months that I imagined it as nothing more than a new place and experience to be seen, enjoyed, and learned from. Perhaps I am reading a point of disillusion in my travels. And then, the first dune came into view, a tower of sand emerging from behind the shrubs like a ghost ship mysteriously lost on land, and I found myself jaw agape and in wide-eyed awe. There was something so immediately marvelous and commanding about it; something ancient and more substantial than me. As soon as the truck stopped I was on the ground, had ditched my shoes, and was digging my feet into the glistening white ripples before me. I waited like a racehorse at the gait for any hint that it was time to ascend the mound before I was racing to the top. At the apex I was again overtaken by the strange beauty of a desolate place but also by the sheer scale of it all. I perched on the edge of the tall dune staring down at a transparent turquoise lake out of which grew hills of sand on every side set against the whitewashed sky. The hot, whistling wind peppered sand against my legs moving grains from peak to valley to peak. I stood there expecting that I might as easily disappear with the next gust, crystallized and cast across the horizon. We hiked down to the lake and I was stripped to my trunks and in the water without hesitation. For as long as I live I will never forget the stillness, the quiet, the peace I felt wading in in the coolness of that lake. The blues and whites of the water, sand, sky, and sun seemed to tumble over themselves in circles. I climbed the side of one dune, splayed my body on its surface, and moved my arms as if to make snow angles, slowly propeling myself back down into the pool. We collected our belongings and walked to another lake. We found our bodies and clothing dry by the time we arrived, evidence of the extreme temperature of late afternoon, and quickly splashed into our new swimming hole. I climbed a hill to get a view back over the flat lands we traversed in the 4x4. I found a spot of shade to hide in for a while. I waded back into the water. There was nothing to do but search for nooks in the landscape to take in some new perspective to round out the memory of it. I pondered the fragility of a landscape which could carry on without me as it had for thousands of years or envelop me its folds if I remained still for too long. Eventually, we made the trek back toward our arriving point and gathered on the ledge of a high dune facing west above another lagoon. The sun began to retreat from its daily work of bleaching the ground and burning the air. We tourists sat as if in church, sharing in the particular magic of this moment, each of us far away in some private experience of it. Behind us, that same indifferent moon rose for the occasion dressed in full regalia to watch the transition of light over this small patch of the earth as she has a million times before. We drove home under her glow as dusk became dark and by the time we crossed the river she had reached her full brightness, bluing the night, masking the stars, and outlining trees along the shore. There are many experiences from my life that live inside me wherever I go. There are fewer that seem to live outside of me, strong enough to have manifested their own essences which remains close enough to feel but too large for my human body to hold. Lencois Maranhense will walk beside me from this point forward. 
• Back on the other side of the river I found reality again in the shape of a small town, street lights, and a tree branch that smacked me in the head at a good 20+ miles per hour. Nature giveth and nature beat you with it. All was well; no real damage and my pride got lost in checked baggage a long time ago so I was in good form. I opted out of the ride home when I realized that I both knew where I was and had just spied some sports game happening that I felt inspired to watch. I bid my friends goodbye and walked into the sports complex where a group of teenage girls were playing some game that seemed to be the offspring of a peculiar love affair between basketball and football (soccer) which Wikipedia informs me is called handball. Distressingly, Googling for this result returned a few articles about a soccer referee in the state of Maranhao  (where I am) who got into an altercation with a player which ended in a double fatality (warning, disturbing content, please do not open link if you do not wish to read graphic material). Thankfully, this was a more subdued evening. 
• I made it home to shower and say hi to Kevin before walking down to the waterfront for dinner at Deck-o Bistro where I ate a delicious (small, expensive) fish soup with rice and listened to live music performed by Dorin (who I can't find a good link to, sorry). I saw my new friends from Belem pass. They promised to come back after dinner to join me but I was tired and had to leave before they returned. It was a long day with lots of sun. I am appreciating what magic happens in my life and how blessed I am. Still thinking about James Baldwin's writings and remembering how much of that magic if because of my identities of privilege. Even the things that might be attributed to my personality or way of being in the world is deeply related to these privileges which I did not earn but was born into. This is not to discount the joy it brings but to keep me honest about my place in the world and thoughtful of how my experience is connected to the experiences of others. 

19.09.2013

• Today I was awake in time to enjoy breakfast at my pousada, complete with eggs, papaya, guava, bolo de milho, and hot tea. By 8:20 I was picked up by a Santos truck and taken to the dock by the river for day two of tours. My fellow travelers arrived including Fernando and Raquel with whom I will be happy to share my last day in Barreirinhas as I did my first. 
• We boarded our boat and took off along the river, stopping at a hotel dock to gather two remaining guests. The early morning air was so fresh and already warm, telling of the day ahead. Our first stop (as with all tourist stops) is an opportunity to buy things. Jumping out of the boat which landed into the beach we find ourselves at a large hut with beverages (including alcohol for those early morning cachaca needs), coconuts, food, and crafts. The main event, however, were the swarms of small monkeys who were happy to holler and bed for treats. Visitors could even buy small baskets of sliced banana to gingerly hand the eager critters who made haste to eat and ask for more. Needless to say, there were no "Please don't feed the animals" signs in sight. The were under the table, on the table, above the table, on the hammocks, in the hammocks, swarming and swooning over a potential snack. They were generally well mannered with their guests while scuffling among themselves over scraps. Though, the alpha male got the better of an inattentive tourist and waddled away with a whole coconut as large and heavier than he. 
• Back in the boat and to our next stop: a small village near the ocean which was dominated by the Farol de Preguiças (Sloth's Lighthouse). We hopped off our boats and walked past the bar (another bar hut on the beach before lunch) and made our way though the gates and up the 160 stairs to the deck of the lighthouse. It was, of course, an incredible view of the sand dunes and the sea, still just a glimpse of the whole. A few snapshots latter and we made our descent. Back near the gates to the lighthouse Raquel pointed to a cashew tree. I had inquired about cashew (caju) fruit earlier in the day and she walked me over to the tree where small yellow fruit were growing. The cashew nut is actually a bit of a nodule at the top of the fruit, the point of connection to the branch. Raquel found me a few ripe ones and I bit in for my first taste of the cashew fruit which I am not sure I have ever seen sold in the United States though Anthony Bourdain must know where to get it. It was mildly sweet and tart and I finished my lot in moments and was scouring the tree for more but to little avail. Satisfied with my new food find I skipped the ice cream stand and another row of craft shops to spend a few moments alone at the docks before we shoved off. 
• Our next stop was at a nearby beach where stood three restaurants which, I believe, are actually one restaurant with three dining areas. With other tour groups shortly behind us we decided to order our meals and wait out the long cooking process at the beach. The beach we landed on was the bank of the river. The beach we were going to was a short walk over a dune where we found the long, flat expanse of pale white sand with the Atlantic at one edge. Clothes off and skipping into the surf which tasted remarkably salty after the fresh water ponds of yesterday. A bit of swimming and some time flipping on the beach close enough for the waves to find my feet. The sun was relentless at the peak of its climb, bearing down on us as we stood our ground at just two degrees south of the equator. Of course, the sun always and will always win. 
• We packed up our bags and dragged ourselves back to the restaurant where we were still afforded a bit of a wait before lunch. I thought lunch was included (silly boy) and only had enough cash for a plate of french fries. My friends were kind enough to offer me some of their delicious seafood stew with boiled eggs in a red sauce with a side of pirao. It was a satisfying lunch after a satisfying swim which I finished with an indulgent nap in a hammock before the long boat ride home. Back home I cleaned up and found Kevin for a chat and then went out for dinner at O Canoa, another restaurant overlooking the river where I had a simple chicken dinner in a mushroom butter sauce with a fresh juice of bacuri, a common fruit of Northern Brasil. It has been a sweet couple of days in Barreirinhas - strangely feels like a vacation from, whatever it is that I do. For all the learning that I hope to take in during my travels, I find it also meaningful and enjoyable to experience the natural beauty which exists in the places I visit which the people are so proud of. A love for nature is important to nurture that people have personal reasons to support policies with protect endangered environments, the people most impacted by resource use issues, and the future of us all.