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Published: March 20th 2015
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November 3, 2014
Bette Davis said " Getting old is not for sissies." To that I would add that traveling is not for the faint of heart or weak of knee. Our program simply said 'Boat Trip.' Our group of twenty gathered at 8 a.m. at the Maritime Terminal on the bay of Bahia. Some had towels or water shoes. Most had cameras and lunches varying in size from a small brown bag to an insulated cooler the width and girth of a toaster oven-that would be me.
Walking out on the pier we passed a sleek shiny white catamaran. Wowser! Alas, that was not to be our vessel. We kept walking and boarded a slightly larger version of the African Queen called Maria Mulata. It was, well, serviceable. We pulled out of the harbor. From the back of the boat, where I was sitting, the skyline of Salvador was a mélange of modern skyscrapers and antique buildings. We passed the old fort complete with ancient cannons and continued going until the city gradually faded from view.
The day was so perfect for a boat cruise that it looked like a Gauguin painting. The sky was brilliant. Shades
of cerulean, cobalt, and robin's egg blue with, now and then, a dollop of cream puffy clouds. The water was smooth with an occasional chop throwing up soft white caps like a can-can dancer flirting with her skirt.
Ahh, but the water...having grown up in New England I thought of the Atlantic Ocean as being deep blue or steel gray and frigidly cold. But here it was various shades of teal, turquoise, malachite, aquamarine and warmly inviting one to touch it. It brought to my mind John Masefield's poem "I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky..." I can understand the pull of the sea as I summered at the ocean for fifty years. Now I live on the Mississippi River. When I visit Massachusetts the first thing I want to do is go to Manomet and gaze at the ocean. I never tire of it.
On board there were about fifty people plus the crew, bartender, waiter, and three very talented musicians who made more music from a drum, ukulele, and tambourine than a full orchestra. It was pretty quiet until the drinks were passed around. Then the dancing and
singing got going. Our group, let's call them the 'seniors', were a bit shy except for a few who got up to dance. But the front of the boat, let's call them 'thirty somethings', were rockin' and raucous.
Our stop, Isla dos Frades, was in view. When we were about three hundred yard to the shore a smaller brightly colored 'Jon' boat that looked like a large dory pulled along side. The deck hands threw a short ladder against our 'schooner' and people (read that as the younger crowd) started to scramble aboard. Some of my friends and I watched as the 'jon' boat stopped about fifty feet from the shore and passengers jumped or tumbled into the surf half walking, half crawling to the dry beach. We 'seniors' looked at each other and wondered if this was within the realm of possibility. Next we knew we were hustled onto the small boat and ferried toward the island. I had lots of help making it out of the boat. A fellow passenger took the huge lunch cooler out of my arms (did I mention it had no handles?) which left me free to negotiate the waves, while a crew
member pulled me out of the surf. Oh Lordy! I headed toward a beach 'cafe' to sit under a bright orange umbrella, drink a very cold Coke Zero, and eat my huge lunch-which I shared with three other people.
Some of the group walked up a nearby hillside and spotted little monkeys, others went for a swim. I chose to be entertained by the very creative and enterprising salespeople who made a continuous loop around the tables selling their wares. They carried a variety of items: dried starfish, necklaces, 'real' coral and turquoise bracelet, beach wraps, flip-flops, and freshly grilled bananas. It was hard to resist their patter and I didn't. I made the beach my own personal Tiffany's buying jewelry to thrill and delight my friends.
Between the rhythm of the waves and the soft chatter all around me I was lulled into a dream-like state which was abruptly ended when a crew member informed us that because of high surf we had to walk around the other side of the island to get back on the smaller boat. I followed the group and was fine while we were on the sand. But around the bend we
had to walk through the water on very slippery rocks. Because I have knee replacements I am terrified of falling. Being very cautious I inched my way along. A strong brown hand reached out to help me. I turned to say "thank you" and realized it was one of the musicians from the schooner. I used one of the only Portugese words I know, "obrigada" (thank you), and let him know with my eyes how grateful I was for his help.
We reached the small 'Jon' boat which had been wedged on top of some rocks. Two of the crew tried to hold it steady in the heaving surf but people were struggling to get into it. I watched those with replaced hips or knees get into contortion like postures trying to maneuver themselves into the craft. I was dreading my turn as I have all the gracefulness of a manatee. A crew member noticed my knee scars and moved me to the other side of the boat. He patted his bottom, then tapped the edge of the vessel. I followed his directions and sat on the side of the boat and swung my legs up and into the
wobbly craft where two fellow passengers reached out to steady me. Whew! Only one more ladder to climb to be onboard the mother ship.
More drinks, more music, and by now the musicians and I were buddies singing " Day-o" and " Guantamera" at the top of our lungs. Frivolity ensued for about forty-five minute. Then the ship stopped and it was announced that we were at the next island. Again, the little boat appeared. I decided I was not going through that ordeal again and started a quiet mini-mutiny. In all seven of us stayed on board despite some "tsk-tsks" from our fellow travelers and concerns that something terrible might happen to us. Well, something did happen, but it wasn't terrible. We were at anchor on a quiet ship gazing at a small island in perfect peace.
At some point I had one of those moments that comes like a gift when I travel....that if I died at that very instant I would be completely happy. I rested on one of the benches, gazed up at the lapis lazuli sky, and enjoyed every minute of the quiet, gently rolling ship.
The trip to Brazil was very special because I stayed with some wonderful families who opened their homes to me. I got to know them and their children and grandchildren which tourist don't usually have they opportunity to do. If any of you are curious about this way to travel you can go to:
www.friendshipforce.org for more information on chapters near you.
Carolyn/ Gunga
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Dancing Dave
David Hooper
cerulean
I thought I 'd be the only TBer who'd use the word cerulean in a blog. 'Twas the colour of my Tuareg wedding outfit. Yet you use it with such other gems as cobalt, and robin's egg blue, various shades of teal, turquoise, malachite and aquamarine. Must be 'cause you are from the home of the blues...Memphis TN of course. Great to hear your knees are holding out...and you can still display attitude. Enjoy your trip.