Contentment In Maceio: Saturday Jan 2, 2010

Rebecca had asked Barb about a good place to eat breakfast and Barb told her about a place called the Bodega.  Rebecca had been there before and had liked it, so it was our first destination on Saturday. We took a taxi to the restaurant, which was decorated as a giant teapot. We ate in the bottom of the teapot whose walls where lined with teapots. It was a very interesting building, very light and the tables were solid wood, a golden oak. The chairs were rustic in the sense they were made of the same golden wood, but made to look like parts of the tree. The legs were made to look like thick tree branches. Some had 3 legs and were like stools, some were long benches. 

When we asked about meat free food, the chef pointed out all the dishes on the table buffet that were meat free and then he went back into the kitchen and brought me out a freshly cooked fish, all for me. He smiled as he pushed it onto my plate. I have never had such good service. It was yummy, but the best food I had there had to be the cheese empanadas.

We decided after we ate to take a stroll on the beach, which of course was only a block away. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and a light breeze was blowing in from the ocean. We walked for a while and then ended up at a restaurant on the beach, one of many that lined the beach. We had to keep our plastic chairs on the concrete that marked the boundaries of the restaurant. No walls existed. It was an open space near the ocean crowded with plastic tables and chairs full of families and friends gathering to have lunch on the bunch, hang out, and drink beer.

We ordered juices and sat facing the ocean. To our left was a sandy area designated for volleyball. A group of men were playing a game that was called volleyball football. It was half volleyball and half soccer. Ernani enjoyed watching them play.

Vendors would come by selling their wares. Ernani bought a pair of sunglasses. A street artist came by and we watched him paint a sunset ocean scene with boats on the shore. He painted on a ceramic tile in about 10 minutes’ time. It was fascinating watching him blend the colors on the tile itself and then outline the shapes of the objects, the boats, palm trees, sun, as he used another flat tool to shape them and bring them to life out of the paint. And he was fast. Rebecca bought one from him and we learned he was a student of art and worked the beaches for extra money.

We decided to get another cab and see the new mall. The mall was not there when Rebecca lived in Maceio. Our cab driver was great. He told us that he was learning Italian because the majority of tourists to Maceio were Italians. They were coming in droves and even buying land. I was impressed with the taxis. They were all clean and even air conditioned. The price was never a surprise either. The drivers were communicative and only once did one take us to a different place than where we had asked to go. This is the complete opposite experience I have had with Mexican taxi cabs and drivers. I had no reservations about taking a cab in Maceio.

When we got to the mall, the first thing I notices was that it was such a different shopping experience than Ponta de Barro or the Mercados and Artisans on the beach. It was air-conditioned and controlled, plastic and factory made, silver and gold, and upper class. The rich shopped here. Not the tourists or the poor.

I am never comfortable in such places. Never.

We did find a store I was comfortable in: Los Americanos. It was reminded me of what Woolworth’s used to be like,  and it was tucked into the corner of the mall. It was the step-child of the mall. It even had that yellowish light I remember Woolworth’s having and the overstocked shelves and all the items crushed together that simultaneously sucks me in even as it overwhelms me. It was not an unorganized thrift store either. It was one step up from that. It was the kind of place I do feel comfortable in--the kind of place with reasonable prices and lots and lots of miscellaneous items to impulsively buy without bankrupting me.

 There was no air conditioning, just large fans at the entrance blowing into the back of the store. We ended up in the sandals section where I found a decently priced pair of Havianas and a hat. We even found chocolate here. We waited in line a little while to check out, but what impressed me the most was that the cashiers got to sit while they checked us out. This is something every cashier in the States should protest for the right to do. It was so much more humane than standing all day long.

We exited the store and went back into the shiny mall where we window shopped, getting a sense of the Brazilian fashions. I do love their shoe stores and my cousin Jamie would have too. She loves shoes and they had more varieties of shoes in a shoe store there than the Shoe Carnival does here. Almost all of them were high heeled and beautiful pieces of art the klutzy Lisa could never wear, but that was okay. It was like a museum of shoes, so I looked and I imagined and I dreamed.

We took a break, sat on a bench, and watched the people a while before we got another cab to go back to the apartment. I wore my green striped straw hat from Los Americanos home in the cab.

Barb came by to visit later that afternoon with her son’s mother-in-law. Their kids had just had a baby and Barb said they were the two crazy Grandmothers who had sent a parcel to Chicago of baby items for a large price. The mother-in-law also told us about how she tried to go to the States to spend a month helping with the baby and visiting her daughter and son-in-law, but the U.S. would not give her a Visa. They were afraid she would stay past the Visa. She was a single mother in Brazil and I guess women without men are still a threat to the patriarchy. Fear the widow. She might never leave or hoodwink you and defy your crazy rules.

It is amazing to think that an average person, just like us, would be denied the ability to travel and see her family. And it was clear she had a full life in her home country. Why would she want to leave that full life for good and move to cold Chicago illegally? To leave her full and happy life, house, other sons and daughters? It seemed obvious she would visit her daughter after that daughter had a baby and then come back to the full life she had elsewhere. It made no sense to deny her a Visa when she had a return trip planned. I began to feel grateful that Brasil had not denied us entry into their beautiful country. And grateful that they knew we would want to go back to the life we had there even if we feel a little bit in love with their country.

That evening, we had dinner with Ernani’s cousins. Alini and Mario Jorge picked us up and we meet Cristiano,  Luciana, her son Mateus, Eduardo and Flavio at a very nice restaurant. We sat outside and enjoyed drinks and a meal together. Ernani had a very good time seeing his cousins again and I kept wishing I could speak Portuguese. I wanted so much to converse with everyone without anyone thinking about translating for me. Still, it was wonderful seeing Ernani speak so animatedly with his cousins and to see Rebecca enjoying seeing them as well. When your loved ones are happy, so are you.

Fish and Filet and French Food, Oh My! : Fri Jan 1, 2010

Barb drove South from Trapiche to a local fishing village called Pontal da Barra. They keep their village as authentic as possible. The streets are narrow and the houses long. The village is on the lake and the houses on the lake look like this: the first part (near the street) is a store and the back the house where the family lives (and overlooks the lake). The lake is Lake Mundau. It empties into the ocean and the people fish the lake and sell their beautiful filet for their livelihood. Just down the road from the village the fresh water lake empties into ocean.

We had lunch at the restaurant Peixarae known for its fresh fish. The restaurant mirrored the buildings in the village in that we entered from the street on solid ground and as we moved to the back of the building, we moved to the lake. We found ourselves on a back porch balcony over the water with a fantastic view of the lake and the islands in the middle of it. There were stairs that lead down to the lake and more stairs leading into it. We took pictures and tried to feed the fish after we ate (they did not like our leftover rice). You could pull your boat right up and walk up to eat if you wanted to. I imagine that is how the fishermen bring the fish to the restaurant. We were going to be eating the freshest fish.

We order two plates and shared. One was shrimp and one was a local fish. They were awesome. The fish and shrimp are cooked in creamy sauces and the fish dish was the best in terms of the taste of the fish. The shrimp dish also had a local fish in it, but it was more salty and though good, it was not as good as the other. All the fish had bones in it because it was fresh and healthy fish. The shrimp were large and tender.

They also served mashed potatoes with it (again creamy goodness) and we ordered an appetizer that was fried mantioc, a local staple. When fried, it is like potatoes, like fries, but so much better. Faranha, which was a local grain that Barb called sawdust, was also served with our fish and it was delicious. It did not taste or even feel like sawdust, it just looked like it. It was mixed in with dishes. We even had desert. We ordered three doce leches. Ernani had caramal of course and we had a chocolate and I had a coconut which was awesome. I had what I think was the best. It was so sweet, but so good. I told them I could eat this all day. It was the one of the best desserts I had in Maceio besides the goyaba shake.

 After a long, late, leisurely lunch, we returned to our car and drove through the village a bit to see what an older village looked like. As we were driving, I saw that hanging from every balcony were beautiful hand made table clothes, place mats, sweater, and quilts. Before we left, I had googled Maceio and discovered a site that talked about a market South of the city where the women made filet lace.

According to this website, http://www.maosdeminas.org.br/images/NovaBFM.pdf  :

“Pontal da Barra, an old district of Maceió (AL), started as a fishing village where the fishermen’s families lived on what they took from the sea and the lake. Today it is one of the most famous tourist resorts of the region, and its pavements covered with locally produced handicrafts attract lots of tourists. The filet lace follows the lines of a grid, the same process as for fishing nets, and the artisans tell us that the work of the filanzeiras – as the artisans are known – from Pontal da Barra are famous throughout the country and in many countries in the world.”

The women use coconut and banana fiber for their thread. They weave muti-colors pieces and they weave whole pieces entirely in white. We saw baby clothes, belts, head bands, shirts in addition to the table decorations. We bought bookmarks. I bought a belt that I could also use as a headband. We bought place mates for ourselves and for gifts.

I had recently begun to crochet, so I was very interested in how the women made these beautiful crafts. They were true artists. The creativity and quality of their work was stunning. One local woman was making something and Barb asked her if I could take her picture. She said yes and I have a picture of making a shirt. We talked to her and she told us this was how she made the money to pay for her utilities.

By the time were ready to leave the sun was setting and the shops were closing for the day. If I had one small regret, it would be that we did not go back, but someday we will go back.

Since the sun was setting, we headed back to our car and drove through the village and back to the main highway. Barb took us over the long bridge that crossed the Lake as it emptied into the ocean and then turned around and we headed North back to Maceio.

She dropped us off at the apartment. We had had such a wonderful day with her and looked forward to more days with her.

We spent that evening with Eduardo, Flavio, Thais, and Paulo. Eduardo took us out to dinner. We went to Café Palato, a fancy cafe inside an upscale supermarket that was basically a smaller version of Central Market, the large Texas chain of supermarkets that are heaven on earth for the grocery shopper with discriminating tastes. It had everything, every variety of cheese, wine, meat, box dinner, vegi, you name it they had it. The restaurant was in the back corner and packed. We waited a while to get a table, and when we did, I had a wonderful salad with goat cheese.

As a vegetarian, I am picky about salads. So many people think ice berg lettuce is lettuce. It is not. It is not. It is worth saying that twice. Romaine, oak leaf, red, green. Those are lettuces. They actually have vitamins in them and a good, healthy taste, unlike that iceberg stuff that can freeze in the fields for all I care. They used real lettuce and made their own dressing. It was raspberry vinaigrette. And, did I mention the goat cheese? Yes, I know it was not really a Brazilian meal, but I was ready for some Vegetarian fair. And they added fresh berries and walnuts. It was wonderful.

And then we had what was pure heaven and the best dessert all week. Cream of goyaba, They brought about a goyaba hollowed out and inside was heaven heaven heaven. They took the fruit and made a cream out of it and I would kill for that recipe. I was stuffed from all the good food that day, so I tried one Ernani and Rebecca shared. But, I liked it so much Eduardo got one just for me. I made Ernani help me. Heaven.

A New Year and A Look Back: Fri Jan 1, 2010

We took our time getting up. Rebecca called her friend Barb, who came over the apartment just after noon. Barb and Rebecca knew each other from back when Rebecca lived in Maceio. They were both Americans who had married Brazilian men. Barb and Sergio are still together and living in Brasil. Their children live in the U.S. Barb is a professor of nursing at the University in Maceio. She told us she is close to retiring and is considering her options. She had also just had a knee replacement surgery and had recently healed enough to be able to drive her stick shift again. She offered to drive us all around Ernani and Rebecca’s old haunts. Without this offer, we would never have had the chance to see the old places familar to Ernani and Rebecca. One of Ernani's goals was to re-connect with Brasil and Barb helped him to do that.

Since it was a holiday, traffic was non-existent away from the beach. Everyone had stayed or returned to the beach. So, as we headed into the city, we had a chance to see the colonial architecture of the city instead of the modern hotels and high rises and construction to make more high rises that lined the beach. We could see the former and older beauty of Brazil and for the first time in Maceio I felt that I was seeing the real city, the real Brasil. The road was brick, not flat pavement, and not repaved brick like they have in some of the older parts of our country which have been restored and smoothed out for tourists. Though some of the buildings were in bad shape, I could imagine what they looked like years ago. They must have been luxurious and beautiful. I found myself imagining having lots of money and buying one and restoring it.

We were heading to a high point in town called the Mirante. We climbed hills until we got to a flat courtyard, a half circle, near a church, a high rise apartment, and another high rise apartment under construction. Maceio is under construction. Barb and Rebecca explained how much the city had changed and had grown just recently. When they had arrived at Maceio, the sandy beach stretched out past the road and hotels that now border the beach. The hotels did not exist.

From this high point, we could see the town spreading out to the ocean. The high rise hotels all followed the beaches. From the beach to the centro were houses and buildings both rich and poor. Flowers and trees dotted in between them. Tin and rusted roofs and slate roofs, mainly the later, abounded. To the right of the high point area was a high rise apartment were the governor had an apartment. Mirroring it was one under construction. The sky was blue and the view clear.

Behind us was the half-circle we had driven into that was a small park. Ernani and I walked a bit in the park. The small park was dotted with palms. Maceio is a desert on the beach. I had been admiring the large aloe plants, cactus, and other desert plants that grew everywhere alongside the coconut trees.  I loved the U.S. Southwest Desert and I loved the ocean. The marriage of the two is just heaven.

There was a church across the street, green and white, and the community had put up a nativity across from the park and near the church. They had decorated it with potted palms. Barb told us that this was the church were Pajucara and Evandro got married. It was small and cute, but unfortunately closed.

We drove to another overlook point near one of Ernani’s schools, called Colegio de Santa Teresinha. His other old school was no longer in existence. That was shame since I had heard so many stories about it from Ernani and his brothers and sister. But, this one was still a working school when it wasn’t a holiday. We stopped at the overlook before driving to the school. A large beautiful tree was above us and across the street houses lined the road. They had ceramic front tiles and wrought iron gates and window coverings. They were beautiful and long and narrow. Barb said they were also hot inside, so at night people sat out on the front sidewalks and the windos, doors and garages were open for cross ventilation. I imagined how close you would get to your neighbors and how special it must be to live like that. Most of Maceio’s buildings were open because being outside was such a pleasant experience. It was breezy and cool in the shade.

As we turned back to the view of town--to the beaches, hotels, apartments, houses and slate roofs, flowers of Maceio--we noticed to the right a tarp house and a homeless woman who lived there. Barb said she had looked up out of her house while we were talking to see who we were. Who were those people talking so much in English? The idea of the homeless living right next to these houses is unimaginable for most U.S. citizens, but the realities of poverty are not hidden in most of the other countries of the world. I felt as though we were violating her private space, that we were talking in her front yard.

We left and headed for Ernani’s old school. Ernani and I got out and took pictures. Just down the street on the corner a group of young people were sitting talking, laughing, and listening to music. They waved at us as we drove by. Brazilians are friendly.


We headed to Trapiche and the house on 127 Lavenere Machado where Ernani had lived growing up in Brasil. As we got closer to the house, Ernani and Rebecca were recognizing landmarks, like the grocery store and gas station, which indicated we were getting closer to the house. They were getting excited as we started to get closer and as we turned down the street. We stopped in front of the white house.

Rebecca and Ernani rang the front bell because there were cars in the garage. We hoped we could see inside, but no one answered. We peered through the garage door slates. Rebecca told me that where they now had a car, her family had had a couch and the TV. Barb said it was the only house she knew of in Brazil where the kitchen was separated from the other rooms by a courtyard. It would have been nice to see inside, but even standing outside peering in, memories flooded Rebecca and Ernani. They talked about one: Mariano and Shaner on the roof with Eduardo helping him with the water cisterns. And, Rebecca told me later that this was the house were Eduardo had his caged birds all along the front yard. She remembered how they sang so beautifully.

Ernani took a stroll down the street and Rebecca told me about the neighbors. We were parked next to a green house and when I looked through the slates, I saw an empty yard, not kept up. The walls of the houses often had either an electric fence or broken glass on top to deter thieves. This wall had the glass. Rebecca told me a crotchety man used to live there. He would get mad at the kids because they would gather on the sidewalk in front of his house and play games.

Ernani remembered the old man He told me they would play soccer in the street. As we drove down the street, we came to the beach. It was about 2 blocks from the house. I can only imagine growing up that close to the beach. Ernani said he remembers it being farther away or that it felt like it was farther away when he was a kid. We reminded him he was little, with little legs that made distances seem farther than they were. Memory is tricky at all times, especially when awakened from a long sleep.

A Brazilian New Year’s Eve

As we walked back towards our apartment, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant that was a self serve. Many good restaurants in Maceio are self serve and this one had a very good selection of fish on their menu. We sat outside as we ate. We were eating a late lunch and were the only patrons. I had a tomato based entre made with a local mollusk called sururu. This is fish native to the lakes of the Northeast. All the fish was fresh and the local fish were the best. Many people make a living as fishermen in Maceio. The many lakes and the ocean provided them with their livelihoods. I had also been told Brazilian are into big lunches and not so much into breakfast. I am the same way.

Our first day in Maceio was deceptively quiet so far. We strolled back to the apartment leisurely. When we did get there, we discovered Eduardo had left us a phone to use. I had completely forgotten it was New Year’s Eve. I had no idea what day it was and the United States and the usually traditional parties of this day all seemed so surreal and far away. If I had been home, I would have had plans for the holiday and would have been preparing for them or thinking about them at the very least, but here, in Brasil, I was pleasantly unprepared. It felt like floating through a day. I was content to see where the day took me. When Ernani did talk to Eduardo and Flavio on the phone and mentioned how they were trying to get us tickets to a big party tonight at the Maceio Mar Hotel, I heard him and I understood him, but I did not really connect it to New Year’s Eve and the approaching New Year. And it did not really sink in until I was counting down to the fireworks that it was the last day in 2009. When everyone hugged and said Happy New Year to me in Portuguese (Feliz ano novo) and I said it back as well I could, then it sank in, but only then.

Rebecca called her friend, Pajucara, who invited us all over to her house that night. When Rebecca told her about Eduardo getting tickets to the hotel, she said those where the hottest tickets in town. Ernani and I felt we should go with Eduardo and Flavio tonight, but Rebecca had a choice. If she was home in the States, she would have been celebrating tonight at the farm with her family and her sister. She felt a strong desire to be with us that night, to be with some of her kids, if not all of them. (Yes, she loves us that much!) She decided to spend the evening with Pajucara and meet up with us later, after midnight.

Pajucara was coming to pick her up. Pajucara lived North and just 2 blocks from the beach Gauxima. She and her family planned to see the New Year come in by having supper and then taking a dip in the ocean. This night was special not only because it was the last night of 2009, but also because the moon was full and the tide would be very low from 10 P.M. to 2 A.M. Rebecca has awesome pictures of being in the calm, shallow ocean under the full moon that night. They swam in the calm and emptier ocean and then at midnight had a traditional Brazilian New Years meal: Turkey and potatoes. A word about Brazilian Mashed Potatoes. They are the best in the world. I am not a big fan of the American version, but I loved them in Brazil. It took a few taste tests to realize why: butter. They put a lot of butter in them and their butter is awesome. It is rich, creamy, fresh, goodness.

Pajucara came to pick Rebecca up at around 8 and Flavio came by with Eduardo for Ernani and I at 9. They took one look at what we were wearing and told us we had to change. It is a tradition to wear white in Brasil on New Year’s Eve. We had dressed ourselves in black. We changed. We left the apartment and drove the back streets to get as near the hotel as we could. New Year's means a big street party in Maceio. They block off the main street in front of the beach. Vendors were selling local beer for 2 reieas or about a buck and food vendors and bandstands were placed every so many feet. The street was packed with people and the beach was also packed all along the coasts.

It was amazing how many people were there. It seemed that most of Maceio (a city of 2 million, smallish for Brazil) came out to celebrate the New Year, 2010, on the streets and beaches. Some people on the beach had tents. All the groups of families had a cooler and they would gather round it, standing or sitting on plastic chairs, talking, dancing, and soaking in the atmosphere. People of all ages, infant to senior, were on that beach. Brazil seems to have a lot of young people and families and they brought their children, parents, and grandparents, out to celebrate New Year’s Eve. It was wonderful to see the variety of ages.

We walked a bit on the streets and found the friend of Eduardo who had our tickets. We even had a ticket for Rebecca when she arrived later that night. Since Ernani’s father had to pick up his sister Enoy from the airport, he left us to wander the streets with Flavio and then find our way back to the Maceio Mar Hotel (which sits right on the main beach street). From the hotel, we would watch the fireworks that lined the beach ready to be lit at midnight.

When we got tired of walking around, we went back to the hotel and sat with Flavio, Thais and their mother Maria Teresa. Paulo (Thais's boyfriend) and his family were also there. Everyone was in white and some of the women had even had their dresses made especially for this night. This was the place the people with money came to to ring in the New Year. While we were waiting for the countdown and the fireworks, we eat appetizers and goyaba shakes. (The shakes were wonderful. They were even better than chocolate. I had found a new fruit to love and I ate as much of it as could while I was there.) The fireworks started off well, but then there was a pause between them. It seemed there were some technical difficulties with the ones on the beach in front of us, but they were going off all along the beach and even Rebecca saw them from the beach she was on North of town.

A local TV/Internet guy was at our hotel asking people what they thought of the fireworks. They interviewed Ernani. The guy was bug eyed and had too much energy as for as I was concerned. When he tried to interview me, I was non-committal, spoke in English, and would not take his instruction to look at the camera. I have no desire to be on TV in Brasil; I have no desire to be on TV anywhere for that matter. Ernani though did well. When they asked him where he was from, it was obvious we were visitors, he told them West Virginia. They said Virginia and he insisted “No, WEST Virginia.” We had encountered this kind of confusion before in Acapulco. It seems for some reason the rest of the world does not know that West Virginia seceded from Virginia around 1860 or so. We are our own, darn it. So, we try to educate when we can, but it does not always work.

The hyper man continued to the next question: how did you like the fireworks (of course this was all in Portuguese). Ernani said they were so-so. The next day, Eduardo said he was briefly on channel 11. We had not seen it, but when I was watching TV that morning I did cringe every time I saw the news coverage of New Years; I was waiting to see if they would show us and was relieved when they did not. We were not watching the right channel to see Ernani, unfortunately, but thank goodness they did not show me.

After the fireworks, we walked up and down the streets and the beach where everyone was dancing and drinking. We did not see this, but it is another tradition in Brasil at New Year’s to jump 7 waves for luck and throw flowers into the sea to honor a sea goddess.

We did meet Rebecca later at the Maceio Mar Hotel. She was escorted there by Pajucara, which was good since she would never have found it otherwise. When we were ready to go, we walked back to the apartment. We got back at three AM and went to bed. Everyone else partied into the morning on the beaches and in the hotels and welcomed in the new decade. I could think of no better place to be at the start of the year than in Maceio.

Coconuts on the Beach: Dec 31, 2009

The first thing I saw when I woke up in Brazil on the 31st was blue sky. No clouds. All sun. A deep blue sky. Ocean sky. I jumped out of bed. Rebecca was on the balcony and I went out immediately to see the ocean. Our balcony faced South and the ocean was to the East, so we looked left and there it was, sparkling and close. The street below us was not busy, but the street parallel to the ocean was because it was a holiday, so families were out on the beach. We had been to bed late and were pretty exhausted from travel, so we got up late, sometime around 9 or 10.

 

Ernani was impatient to get outside and explore, but Rebecca and I were much longer getting ready in the morning. So, while we were taking our showers, Ernani went across the street to Bompreco, the Brazilian Wal-mart—seriously Wal-mart owns it (a little bit of Arkansas everywhere I suppose). He bought us some shampoo, something we had all forgotten to pack. It is in my shower now and I use it sparingly for it is one of only a few things we have in Portuguese. I like to see it in the morning. He also bought a magazine for his sister-in-law Cecilia. Cecilia had majored in Portuguese in college and had lived in Brazil a while. She was now living in Iowa and we knew she was starved for the language in its everyday use.

Ernani also bought a ton of Marango (Strawberry) and other biscoito cookies that come in a long cylindrical package and taste like bits of heaven. This was a treat we only got when someone went to Brazil and came back with them for us. We could have all we wanted for the next ten days. He bought a bunch of varieties for us including Marango, and he bought more Marango for his brothers and sister. He got me chocolate of course.

And, he bought cheese. Yummy cheese. The local cheese was wonderful. He got a small wheel of yellow cheese with red wax around it that I was told was a holiday cheese because it was more expensive. He also got a less expensive yellow cheese. And later, Rebecca got a white cheese spread she used to hace when she lived in Brasil. We also got bread. Fresh bread. Every street had a Padaria, a place that made fresh breads and pastries. And the bread melted in your mouth. It was perfect with the cheese and an egg. Though I must also say that the bananas in Brazil were the best bananas I have ever eaten. They were not like ours and they were not plantains (which I also love), but something in between the two. I had no problem eating one every day and I am not a big fan of bananas in the states.

But, enough about food for now, Ernani got back and was impatient for us to get moving. We were not quite ready, so he explored the roof of our building while we were finishing getting ready. His Dad had told him we should check it out. Our morning routine was pretty much always the same: Get up, have some coffee, fruit, food, talk, gaze out and over the balcony, see who wanted to shower first, shower, put on sunscreen, hat, good shoes and head out. When we did all that, Ernani told us we had to go see the roof. He said it was amazing.

We took the smallest elevator in the world up to the roof (they really were small and made me very claustrophobic when anyone else was in them with us) . There was a small pool, fitness center, sauna, and lounge up there and places to sit outside. It was all open. Doors were just portals to the outside and mostly invisible, not heavy forces that keep out nature like they need to be here. Ernani showed us the amazing thing about the roof: the view from the top of the ocean and the city of Maceio in the sunlight.

If we looked right there was ocean and beach. If we looked left, there was ocean and beach. And straight ahead was ocean. Land was behind us. To the left was Ponta Verde and just past that a small lighthouse. The shore curved like a C to the tip of the point, or a bent L really. To the left, the shore ran straighter and a large port sat further down it and out into the ocean, a port where the big ocean ships and cruise ships dock.

One look at that view and Rebecca and I were just as eager as Ernani was to get down there. I wanted to put my feet back in the ocean. They would recognize it. I knew they would. It was salt water, it was home somewhere deep within the core of all of us. When I learned the womb was also partly salt water, it made perfect sense and explained the deep connection a lot of us feel for the ocean. We must have come out of there at some point. I could feel it.

We left the apartment building and headed right across the street and right through the sandy beach to the water. Ernani and I took off our shoes (we did not bring sandals, intending to buy them when we got there) and walked in the water along the shore.

The beach we were on is called Pajucara. Brazilians lined the beach and the further up the beach the people grew even more dense. Every woman wore a two piece no matter what their body looked like. What surprised me the most were the coconuts, green, rolling in the waves as the ocean gently receded and came back to shore. People thought nothing about drinking their agua de coco, coconut water, and then dropping the coconut wherever it landed and wherever they were at the time. Kids were playing with the coconuts, rolling them in and out of the water. The rules about litter change from place to place and they were lax here.

We passed a few mercados and artesanos and eventually one of them tempted us away from the ocean shore. We browsed the market. The northeast is known for its crafts and the people in Brazil are artists. They are fantastic artists. I bought a purse that displayed their filet (a sewing and filet crochet combo that the women do in the northeast. I had read they make great fish nets out of it.) and a hair ornament made out of a coconut shell. Ernani was looking for a pair of Brazilian sandals, Havaianas. We were thinking about family gifts, but knew we had time to find and look.

The mercados on the beach are large tents open to the elements. There was always a breeze on the beach and that breeze ran into the stalls of the mercados. Sometimes, deep in the mercados the breeze vanished, and then I would feel the heat, but all I had to do was walk a few feet and I’d be outside and instantly cooled off. The weather was perfect.

We continued walking down the main sidewalk the runs along the beach and the street. There were showers to wash the sand from your feet. Street Vendors lined the street: selling Aracaju and auga de coco. Cars parked along the street. There was a sidewalk for walking and a bike path for biking. I loved the bikes. They were not those sleek, scary things you see in stores around here that hurt a lot to sit on, for both men and women, and which I slip right off of without much provocation. They were the nice, stable, safe old fashioned kind that if I did fall off of, I would be okay after doing so. They were the Buicks of bikes.

 We kept walking down the street and ended up passing the point. A bit after the point Rebecca and I shared an agua de coco. Basically, they take a coconut (in Brasil they are green) and they cut the top a bit with a machete. They stick a straw, or two as they did for us, into the hole which leads to the middle of the coconut where the agua de coco is. Now, coconut water is not coconut milk. It was refreshing and not sweet but not bitter either. It quenched the thirst immediately and it is suppose to be very healthy too. We found a spot to sit under a coconut tree on the beach and rested our feet and shared our coconut. It was the perfect drink for the beach as we gazed out onto the ocean, watched the boats, and let the breeze remind us it was summer.