The Dark Side

As I´ve studied Brazil for some time, I have always known it is a country of contradictions. It may be home to some of the most stunning landscapes, wildest parties and friendliest people, but they coexist with a much crueler reality, of dangerous favelas, unemployment, drugs and crime. This latter, darker side of Brazil is ever present as you live your daily life here, especially in some of the neighbourhoods that surround me. You are told from the start “Cuidado minha filha, don´t take that route, get home before dark and always stay alert.” There is even a law that allows you to pass through red lights after 10pm, to avoid leaving motorists vulnerable to attack.

However, as a girl from South London, I think I´ve got my head screwed on. I don´t wander about here at night, as I´d never dream of doing that at home anyway. Here, I live far away from my friends and I´m vehemently independent, so if I want to go out, I have no qualms with jumping on a bus and getting there myself.  I must admit I was slightly terrified when I arrived here and the first news report I saw was of a daylight robbery on a bus in Fortaleza… but if you watched the news daily you wouldn´t leave the house. The buses are truly no problem at all, as long as you know your route and have your wits about you. It even makes me smile to think of the upper classes who wouldn´t even contemplate taking public transport here for fear of rubbing shoulders with Brazil´s uglier aspects, like the beggars and that are a permanent feature at the bus terminals.

But sometimes I must admit I´m naïve. I knew that Maracanaú, where we teach, was a high risk neighbourhood, but we´ve never witnessed a thing out of the ordinary. It wasn´t until a teacher at Rui Barbosa (the school we teach at on Wednesdays) was shot dead in her car two weekends ago that we began to realize we had been living in an area that truly has no law. “Yeah it was her ex-boyfriend” one of my 11 year old students tells me without batting an eyelid.  Apparently, murders through fits of jealousy are common. It was the fact that everyone knew exactly who had killed her that exasperated me, is he not afraid of prison? Apparently not – maximum sentence for murder is 30 years, and he could serve as little as 5 if he behaves well. It was quite a shock, as it always is when the two sides of Brazil collide.

http://jornaldemaracanau.com.br/policial/escola_rui_barbosa_em_luto_pela_morte_de_professora.html

Last week, the long anticipated sequel to one of Brazil´s finest depictions of its darker side, Tropa de Elite 2, was released. The first installment followed the story of Roberto Nascimento and his ‘elite squad’ of warrior police that are at war with the drug dealers of Rio´s deadliest favelas. The BOPE (Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais) are who you call when there is noone else that can handle the job.

They are a brutal force, a killing machine, leaving the bodies of bandidos spread across the city in their wake. But the film poses the question of whether their aggression is reasonable or not. It is right to torture and beat people´s brothers and sons into giving information, then setting them free to be killed by their own gang? What is the difference between a vagabundo that murders and a police force that does the same? Where is the line between a violent drugs lord and a student that sells weed on campus? We watch as innocent people are caught up in the BOPE’s operations and pay with their lives, and as Nascimento slowly loses his family and mind, consumed by the batalhão. It gave me goose bumps to witness such an atrocious reality, but the worst part is that it is true.

Tropa de Elite 2 takes things further. ‘This time, the enemy is different’, the tagline reads. The first film touched on petty corruption in the police force, but the second goes to town exposing the obscene corruption that sustains the crime in Rio from the military police to the state government, to the very Ministry of Defence. If the police are willing to steal, rape and murder those who are close to discovering the truth, there is no one left to call. Once again the chilling fact that the gripping story had its basis in truth that stings.

But don’t despair. There may be a long way to go, but every Brazilian in the audience that cheered when Nascimento gets his hands on the most corrupt of all politicians and tells him he will see him in court, proves that the vast majority of the population abhor what goes on in the lawless pockets of their country. They applaud Padilha’s exposure of what goes on in an attempt to change it. Thankfully, I´ve only crossed paths with people who are generous, open and pure of heart.  The dark side of Brazil is extremely dark, but the bright side is blinding.

Jericoacoara

If Canoa Quebrada is a fine Chardonnay, Jericoacoara is ice cold Veuve Cliquot served in crystal flutes. From the moment we set out, we felt our trip was blessed... it truly was 4 days in paradise. It involved a bus, as always, that took us north past tiny farms and parched scrubland, glittering lakes and rocky peaks. Jeri is infact inaccessible by bus, a fact which I adored, as no one seems to have the heart to build an ugly road through the idyllic sandy beaches that surround it. So, in Jijoca, a town roughly 1.5 hours from Jeri, everyone disembarks to continue the journey in an off road vehicle. Ours was a jolly looking superbus called a Jardineira that has huge open windows to admire the scenery of palm trees and sand dunes along the coastal trajectory. We were lucky enough to make this part of the journey at sunset - a marvellous introduction to what we were about to experience.

As we rumbled into Jeri itself, the Jardineira barely fitted through the tiny streets that were crammed with chic looking bars and pousadas. We arrived into the main square, to discover that Jericoacoara has no streets, the tiny town is built on sand itself. So off came the shoes, and they barely went back on all weekend. It was already dark but Jeri was aglow - not an agressive blaze that you find in cities, but a gentle light that peeped out of the windows of the restarants and hotels. We had already made our first friends on the bus, and we followed one, Luciana, (new bff) to the pousada she was staying in. We were blown away by what a gorgeously rustic place it was - all wooden panels and embroidered cushions, bookcases and board games, not to mention several hammocks to relax in, a standard feature of all Brazilian homes.

The owner, an incredible character infamous in Jeri, was a man called Itamar, who had a wonderful knack of making you feel at home. He had a broad smile, a big heart, and an eye for Nelson... but who doesn´t?! He treated all the guests like long lost friends, eating meals and playing backgammon as if he were just passing through himself.

We happened to turn up just as a music festival was getting underway, so our first job was to wander down to the beach along a succession of portable bars strung with tropical fruits, to where a huge stage had been erected.  The crowd came alive when a Samba band from São Paulo, Samba da Rainha took to the stage. They were an all female ensemble that really knew how to put on a show... I was sambaing in the sand like a mad woman to the pounding rhythms... it was what I imagine carnaval to be all about. After the show we decided to save ourselves for the following day, so went to bed nice and early... at 1am.

After a delcious breakfast of fruit, eggs and juice the next morning, we were quite dismayed that it began to rain. But, as this was our lucky weekend, after a couple of games of backgammon it had cleared up and we set out on a buggy ride - which is THE thing to do in Jeri. It takes you on an exhilarating journey along deserted beaches, sandy lanes and tiny villages, to two beautiful lakes. The first, Lagoa Azul, was our favourite. We took a boat across the crystalline waters to a bar where we could relax in a hammock, sip on coconut water and take a dip in the beautifully fresh water. It was as tranquil as could be, we could quite happily have stayed all day. The second, Lagoa Paraíso, does live up to its name, but was however a lot busier... and the restaurant was a rip off. But you can´t win 'em all I suppose.

It was soon time to head back to catch the sunset on the Duna Pôr do Sol - which was an incredible sight as you actually watched the sun descend into the sea. Afterwards, we strolled along the beach to catch a Roda de Capoeira... it was the first I have seen in Brazil and I found it enchanting - it was so traditional and native - it was wonderful to be experiencing the real deal. That night the music festival wasn´t up to much so instead we headed to the only club - Planeta Jeri - which seems also to be owned by the illustrious Itamar. We played some pool, made some friends, sank a few caipirinhas and danced until the sun came up.

On Saturday we decided to make our own way to the Pedra Furada, a famous rock formation that is the symbol of Jeri. We couldn´t take the coastal route as I may have spent the morning asleep, and the tide was now well and truly in. So we took the route that lead us out of the town and up a mountain... It was quite a trek and we began to wonder if we had wandered completely off track. But when we caught sight of the Pedra Furada below... we scrambled down the incredibly steep slopes as quickly as could.

It was a marvellous sight, especially in the cool, late afternoon sun. We perched on some rocks to eat some well deserved sandwiches and admire the view.

Our luck didn´t end there, we managed to make it back in time to catch a showing of Ridley Scot's Robin Hood in an open air cinema on the beach. I didn't think it would be my cup of tea, and although the fake english accents grated on my nerves, it was quite a lovely film! I do enjoy watching things in English because it means my brain can finally relax. And I don't think theres anything better than being able to see the sea with a turn of your head.

Needless to say when Sunday lunchtime rolled around and it was time to leave, we were totally gutted. It was one of those moments that you know you can never live again, but it was so perfect you are almost happy to leave it there suspended in that moment of time. I beg anyone who lives in Ceará and hasn't yet been to Jeri to give Itamar a call make that 7 hour journey. It is so ridiculously worth it.

Canoa Quebrada

Canoa Quebrada was founded by accident when the Portuguese navigator Francisco Ayres da Cunha´s boat broke down when travelling along the North East Coast (hence the name, Broken Boat).  360 years on it is well known in Ceará as a bohemian party town ideal for a weekend getaway. As it was my birthday and (another) public holiday, we decided to get ourselves down there for a few days relaxation.

As you know, I´m a big fan of bussing it about. The bus to Canoa seemed to stop at every tiny town along the way, but we eventually got there. We disembarked onto a sandy street, lined with brightly coloured pousadas, eateries, shops selling beach ware and souvenirs – it was exactly the charming little nook I had hoped to find.

It is essentially one long road called Broadway, with little side streets branching off from it. Everywhere you look there is a tiny house offering home cooked meals and rustic bars offering beer for one pound.

The beach is set against an impressive backdrop of red sand dunes, the sight of which is nothing short of spectacular. You can wind your way down the dunes to the crystal clear sea, and even etch your name into them.

Along the beach you´ll find numerous barracas to quench your thirst and satiate your hunger. We enjoyed a particularly delicious fried fish in a shrimp sauce on my birthday. My general drink of choice is coconut water… but when I saw a cocktail bar being pulled along the beach by a donkey – I just couldn´t resist a Pina Colada served in a fresh pineapple. Although it was hugely overpriced, I felt the chap deserved my money for his entrepreneurial flair.

In the afternoons, after lunch, the town sleeps, as the shops shut and locals have a siesta. It’s a perfectly peaceful time of day, in which you can only hear the rush of the sea and the birds in the sky.  Later on, it´s worth making the hike up the Duna Pôr do Sol (Sunset dune) to watch the blistering sun fade, turning the sky from the red of the dunes to burnt orange and dusky pink.

On the weekends, Canoa comes to life again at night. The main street is filled with party goers, clutching plastic cups of caipirinha made by cunning locals who set up shop with a crate of ice and an array of alcohol on the side of the road. The soundtrack to Canoa is reggae, which encapsulates the relaxed atmosphere of the town. (I thought of you so much Tiffany!) Make your way down to Freedom bar on the beach just past midnight and you´ll be met with a marijuana fuelled luau that spills out of the wooden bar (aptly painted the colours of the Jamaican flag) and onto the surrounding sand, with a bonfire to give a comforting glow to the scene and Bob Marley to make you sway and sing. The clientele are a stock brand that sport surf shorts and dreadlocks, and look like they have never heard of the word stress. Sometimes I wonder if I should take a leaf from there book… but didn´t.

Canoa is a stunning sight, and a wonderful weekend break. I´m only gutted I won´t have time to go back… Next stop, Jericoacoara. 

Half way there...

Today I am exactly half way through my time here in Brazil. In a way, it feels like the time is flying by, but in another it feels like I have been here forever. This whole business of going on an exchange is completely unique, and never ceases to suprise you, no matter how many times you go (this is my third). I say this, because you invariably spend months waiting to jet off, dreaming of your escape and planning your adventures. Yet, when you are there, there will always be a part of you that longs for home. This inconvenient paradox often leaves me confused. How can I want both things at once?

Brazil has brought me everything I had hoped it would. Fantastic new friends, beautiful new scenery, culture, music, dance, parties, beaches, sunshine, and the day to day living in an entirely new reality. But there are times when I miss my family, speaking my language, being surrounded by my old friends who know me inside out... even the seasons and my big comfy bed. I´m told that the middle of your exchange is always the hardest, because you really start to miss things - I can vouch for that being very true. I have every reason to be euphorically happy here, but the last week or so I´ve been suffering from a lot of saudade. Saudade is a Portuguese word that has no translation, but means sadness, longing, nostalgia, dating from the times of the Portuguese discoveries, when men left their families on the other side of the world and travelled to the New World.

But now I´ve reached the peak of my exchange. The hardest part of adjusting to a new life is over. This period will pass and I'll be back on the up. To mark this moment, something incredible happened last night. It rained. After three entire months without seeing so much as a cloud, the heavens opened for a few minutes and quenched the dry earth. So I´ll take it as nature's own centrefold in my Brazilian story so far. I'm looking forward to seeing what the second half of the story will bring.

Icaraí

Saturday afternoons should be spent at the beach. Preferably one you´ve not visited before. Icaraí is just before Cumbuco, and is charming in a totally different way: it is completely rugged and almost deserted.

Despite the odd kite surfer and fisherman, it was just us, picking our way through jagged rocks and admiring an array of sea creatures and shells washed up on the shore. We found a jelly fish...

a tuna...

and mussels...

Personally, I´m a bit squimish when it comes to fish... but it was interesting to peer at them from a safe distance.

The highlight of the afternoon was the most spectacular lunch I think I have ever had. Fresh pargo, with salad, chips and the most delicious baião so far, complete with cheese and onion. Oh yes.

Baile Funk

Ever since our first party in São Paulo dorms, we have been a bit obsessed with funk. Shortly put, it's Brazilian ghetto music that was born in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro that has steadily been rising in popularity since the mid 90s. Funk is a fantastic example of music that is by the people, for the people, with no frills or pretence, just grimy beats! The backbone is an electric beat that samples the same few songs and sounds like it was composed on your brothers old keyboard. The raps are the filthiest you have ever heard (thats right, they would rival anything by 50 Cent or Snoop Dog) but luckily for me, I don´t understand the majority of whats being said. I had a look on youtube to find a decent example of what I´m talking about... and this is the least offensive clip I could find! Cabecinha by Bonde do Tigrão - this is what you would call a 'goldie oldie' of the funk genre and has been our theme song since we arrived. Para na posição! (You be amazed at how many lessons we manage to sneak that phrase into).

Being in the North East you don´t get a lot of funk, so when we heard there was a theme party this weekend at a run down adult cinema in the city centre, we were all over it. The location was perfect, the whole point of funk is that it is down right dirty. We paid our R$ 11 (four quid) and had our pinky nail painted red. We passed through a curtain into an outside yard full of funkeiros, drinking, dancing, sweating, singing, having an absolute blast. You can tell it´s good party if I decide not to drink - I stayed on Coca Cola and still danced til dawn. Our group was the same melting pot of nationalities and sexualities - which I absolutely love. Highlight of the night? Dancing our own routine to Cabecinha, of course.

Can´t wait til December to experience a baile funk in Rio...

Porto Das Dunas

My friend Cristiano has expressed his dismay at not yet being mentioned in my blog. So heres a snippet from a Sunday afternoon when he invited us to his beach house to try our hands (or feet) at Sand Boarding. There were some experts among us, Cristiano included, but we were mainly novices with a great fear of falling. It wasn´t like SkiBunda where you started off on your bum anyway, this was the real deal...

We were a jolly old bunch of internationals and Brazilians - I do enjoy being in such a mixed environment all the time...

I must admit I was pretty tired that afternoon (details on excellent parties to come later) and I knew that what goes down must come up, so only opted to go down once, seated, with Yamil, clinging on for dear life. Needless to say we ended up in a heap half way down the dune and I´m pretty sure I landed on his head. Sorry, Yamil.

Russian stunner Alisa turned out to be a natural... Nelson wasn't too bad... Bruno wasn't too good... but the prize of the day HAS to go to Ezequiel. Check this out.

We were all crunching sand in our mouths for the rest of the afternoon. We headed back to Cristiano´s house for a relaxing dip in the pool. (Again I refrained, I´ve been eating far too much rice, meat and ice cream so the bikini is on hold for a while) Thank you for a lovely afternoon Cristiano, we can always rely on you to bring people together and have a great time. And to dance to forró on the side of the road and in mini markets, which is what I particularly love about you (",)