Praia do Forte, Day 10
Sayuri and Silent Dan (my new name for all van drivers) met us at Bahia Cafe for our trip to what Sayuri kept referring to as “the beach.” We stopped at dreamlike shrine to the sea goddess Yemoja (or Lemanja) right on the shore in Rio Vermelho. Because African cultures were suppressed in Brazil in favor of the ubiquitous Catholicism, the gorgeous, dark-haired Yemoja is depicted in the many (many) paintings and statues at the shrine in ways that mimic depictions of the Virgin Mary. And mermaids. Sort of sea goddess/Virgin Mary/mermaid mashups with a little dash of Wonder Woman to add spice here and there. It’s the most visceral illustration of the concept of syncretic religion you could possibly create and it’s clearly a very active shrine -- fresh flowers, bottles of soda and other little offerings abounded.
We made another stop to take selfies with a bronze statue of Vinicius de Maraes, famous for his writing (including the lyrics to Girl from Ipanema) and his drinking and then headed out for a longish, not terribly interesting drive through more sprawling neighborhoods to “the beach.” Praia do Forte turned out to be a little vacation village, purpose built around a pedestrian complex of small shops (and some not so small) and restaurants, anchored by Projecto TAMAR -- a sea turtle sanctuary and tourist attraction. As this became clear, I developed a very serious case of the mental travel pouts along the lines of “we drove 90 minutes to hang out in a bullshit resort development and visit some stupid family-fun turtle park? Fuck, this is so lame.” and then we got out of the van and went into the turtle place and I remembered we were in Brazil, where everything is awesome. Because it was awesome!
TAMAR is mostly an educational installation, but it’s also home to tiny, avidly busy baby sea turtles being kept safe until they can be released in the open ocean. There are also several impressive full-grown turtles swimming gently among a cleverly designed system of pools, along with other rescued sea creatures. And a pair of erie, fascinating white turtles live in a pool carefully shaded under a big camo tarp arrangement that looks straight out of a Rambo movie.
And then there was the beach. Bath tub warm water lolled lazily against a soft sand shoreline literally covered with folding tables, plastic chairs and beach umbrellas cheerfully attended to by a very energetic crew of waiters who had the double challenge of carrying big trays across sand and the fact that the kitchen seemed to be about a kilometer away and up a hill. Mary and Andy secured a good spot with an excellent view of the outdoor shower where people were rinsing off after getting sandy (in Brazil, that is some serious entertainment) and we began the real business of the day -- bobbing in the water for a bit, then sitting under our umbrella eating fried seafood snacks, and drinking a LOT of cold, cold beer.
The menu was long, if not terribly varied. There were about 20 different sea creatures to be fried up and served with french fries or battered and fried into croquettes. The menu included lobster, but our adorable waiter said they were out of it, so we stuck to smelts and cod fritters. We’d been enjoying ourselves immensely for maybe half an hour when we saw a guy slowly swimming toward the shore, pushing along a big, mysterious white cooler. A couple of minutes later our waiter was back, dangling two massive, unhappy lobsters by their tails. “You still want lobster? It’s fresh!” I think one of our very few regrets from this trip is that we didn’t pop for one of those lobsters just for the fun of it.
We ambled past the multitude of little shops and ice cream places -- Andy and Holly bought sun dresses -- and met back up with Sayuri and Silent Dan for the drive back to town. We made one last stop at a really pretty (very blue) bar called Azul at Porto de Barra beach. For the price of one more beer, we all got to use the (intensely needed) bathroom and snag a table outside to enjoy the sunset. The beach was hopping with lots of scantily clad people of every age, body type and color all barbecuing, playing music, talking with friends, and of course drinking beers. The sunset -- which was colorful and gorgeous -- got an enthusiastic round of applause.
We drove home first through the poshy part of town, which looked glamorous and chic in the fading light, and then through the really really shitty part of town, which looked really really shitty. It had been a long day, but we slowly assembled at Cuco Bistro for dinner. The only menu in English was an iPad and it was being dominated by a white guy and his super sexy gender ambiguous (and clearly high maintenance) date -- they were a little too intimidating for me to try and stare down but Jeremy was fairly determined. We ordered the most colorful drinks so far -- acai caipirinhas with lots of interesting edible bits -- and more salad than usual (the afternoon’s fried food orgy had left most of us not all that hungry).
There were a lot of street musicians playing, including one band on a proper stage in the square outside the restaurant. It was a fun vibe even though the music was all pretty awful. And things shut down early (not surprising for a Monday in Lent, is suppose) so the walk back to the hotels was weirdly lonely. There was significant gang activity, but only on the part of dogs and cats, who have clearly staked out their territories and do not mess with each others’ trash bags. We said a quick goodnight to Giles and Didier and the impeccable Nikita (their beautiful Shiba Inu) who were holding court in their usual spot in the front room at Amarelindo and then collapsed into the thruple bed.
