The beginning

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My time has been spent so far with my large extended family here. It´s been a while since I have seen them, 6 long years yearning for re-connection with a part of me that starts to ginga, or swing, when I hear a samba beat, the part that feels in living color, beautiful, swirling, vibrant colors of the landscape that is utterly breathtaking. My family: the people, the land, the creatures, the night sky full moon reflecting on lulling waves of the Atlantic Ocean, the food, fresh fruit papaya mango kisses, cafezinho jolts of awakeness. This is what I miss when I am at my home in the northern hemisphere.

I landed in Guarullous airport in São Paolo January 19th. I spent about a week in a semi, self-imposed containment in the house of my uncle. This was mainly because of 1) my dislike of this city, 2) fear of exploring on my own, because, like Rio, there is a lot of crime and violence here, and 3) did I mention I do not like this city? I know that there are some really good things happenings here, though, unfortunately, I have no idea what they are. I admit, I have an aversion to very big, very dirty, very ugly cities, and this is one of them. However my family is here, and I do love spending time with them when they are not busy working. This is my sole purpose in staying in the city of São Paolo.

My second weekend in town, I went to the beach. Well, not exactly on the beach, though I could smell the wonderful salt air all around. I traveled by an alcohol powered car with my cousin and uncle to visit some other cousins near Maresias, in a beautiful small beach town, where not even buses go. I hung out with the family at the house which, thankfully, had a swimming pool that made the hot, humid weather bearable. At night, my cousin and I went to a dance club, the Serena, in Maresias. The club was very lovely, with an outdoor section, under jungle trees and plants that lent a magical tone to the, sorry to say, lame electronic beats, pulsating through sweaty bodies that moved in a drunken, frenetic frenzy. It made me miss the intimate, soulful dance spaces in my home San Francisco.

The next morning we were off to Caragua-Tatuba, where another uncle has a beach house. Wilting in the humidity and heat, I lounged in a delicious hammock, reading, watching the cloudy sky, zenning out on the swinging movement that gives me a baby-like comfort and serenity. The night brought again more music and dancing. This time round, it was a live samba group that caused bodies and butts to gyrate and pulse with the heat of from the drums, a-go-go, pandeiro (tamborine), and songs that everyone in the bar seemed to know all the words to. Here I felt the soul of this country, coming through the rhythms and melodies of a culture rich beyond measure in it´s music, dance, and passion, just to name a few. Nimbling on a pastel de palmito, or heart-of-palm pastry, and sipping on passion-fruit juice, I was in absolute bliss.

I didn´t make it on the sandy beach to touch the silky ocean water this time. Being so close, yet so unbearably far, from what I desire most, to hear the surf pounding the sand; the gritty, polished particles of rock that, together, make the taupe blanket of beach that forms around my footsteps, embracing each contour; working on my tan. I dream of the beach. Soon, very soon, I will make it there.

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Photos

Che Charmoso
My travel buddy, Che Charming, posing with exquisite butter-cup yellow orchids.

Family Dinner
Wonderful japanese dinner with my peeps. A celebration of our connection to our ancestors.

Caragua-Tatuba
The road to Caragua is filled with amazing vistas of the ocean, beaches, and forrests.

Samba!
The very talented samba band in a bar in Caragua.