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Leaving the Rica Costa was a bit sad. Leaving my gypsy man and our Vagalosa behind was very painful. But we both knew it was only a fork on the road that would soon join together again. And though I had to say goodbye to "pura vida" I knew that the Costa Rican expression would stay with me for a long, long time.
My longing for my family and for the rich coast of Brazil, my homeland, was one of the reasons of my departure, the other was the lack of funds. Andre found work but it would have taken me too long to get into the entertaining and theater scene there and I had good fortunes waiting for me in Gringoland. And since one gypsy can't carry a wagon by himself I had to take a break from gypsy life and get back to the apparently fixed point in space called Los Angeles, at least for a little while. But before that I had to make a pit stop in the land of carnaval to get some Dionysian fuel to get me started. So I took the flying wagon to the country where green is always greener. I think this must be a line from some Brazilian song or maybe it just comes from the juke box of my memory. But it's true. I could already sense it underneath the gray layers of São Paulo, as my blurry eyes tried to land myself before the plane touched the ground. I was received with the warmest hugs from my brother Tiago and one of my dearest friends, Marcelo, the man in black. After a twelve hour flight we drove some other twelve hours to get to my grandparents house in a little village called Nova Brasilia, right next to Imbituba, in the southern state of Santa Catarina. All of a sudden I realized how developed Brazil is when compared to the Central American countries we drove through. The roads were relatively smooth and with shoulders which made driving a lot less exciting. The first few days were pretty mellow as I was recuperating from the long journey. Telling my gypsy stories, participating in Umbanda rituals (read my essay on Umbanda, an Afro-Brazilian religion, in our Treasure chest), lying in a hammock, eating the vegetables my grandfather planted in the back of the house, giving tarot readings to my family and visiting the nearby beautiful beaches was mostly what I did for the first week. If you're ever in Santa Catarina there are some wonderful beaches you must not miss: Praia da Guarda has amazing rolling green hills full of smooth boulders and, like Praia da Ferrugem, is mostly a surfer hang out. Praia da Rosa has its charm too and if you hang long enough you can still sense a bit of the old hippie vibe that lingers on in spite of the touristic development of the area. From there we went to Torres, right on the border of Santa Catarina with the southern neighboring state, Rio Grande do Sul , the gaucho land where I am from. Torres means towers and its name refers to the huge basaltic hills covered with grass that face the Atlantic. You climb their smooth slope from the side or the back and as the ocean appears on the horizon, there's a huge abyss as if the hills had been cut with a knife, revealing the thousand grays of geological time. This geography proves the theory that all continents were one mass of land, since the same rock formation can be found in Africa at about the same latitude. Too bad the city is being invaded by barbarian skyscrapers and is more touristy than ever. After the end of March would be a much better time to enjoy its natural beauties and it would still be warm. But at least I got to enjoy the company of good old high school friends and to party at the "Toca do Formiga," a cozy live music bar by the river Mampituba, which divides the two states. From there we headed to Porto Alegre, the capital of Rio Grande do Sul, where my family lives. It's a big city, the cultural center of the region, but during summer there's not much happening since most people are on the beach. I hung out with the rest of my immense and loving family and then went back to Santa Catarina to camp and wait for Carnaval. We went to a dazzling peninsula called Bombinhas with the flattest and warmest water so far, which was great for swimming and snorkeling. But the carnaval there was very disappointing. To tell you the truth don't go anywhere below Rio de Janeiro if you want to catch the famous Brazilian carnaval. The only real carnaval experience I had was a week before it started during a rehearsal of one of Porto Alegre's biggest samba-schools: Os Imperadores do Samba. Unfortunately, I was so excited to see a samba school performance for the first time that I forgot to take a camera with me. All I can say is that there is nothing like the rush of euphoria one feels when the "bateria" with hundreds of drummers starts playing. Or when the most amazing mulatas with either extremely lavish costumes or almost nothing on come to dance with you. It's an unforgettable spectacle. And that was only the rehearsal, imagine the real thing! Imagine being in Rio! Now if you don't care for spectacles but love to get down and dirty you must go to the Northeast of Brazil where the real street carnaval goes on for weeks. And if you can't make it, don't worry. Maybe on our next trip we will make it to Salvador in the state of Bahia - the most African state of Brazil- and then we will definitely send you a tasty bite of it.
On Fat Tuesday, March 7th I sadly packed my bags and headed to São Paulo where I would hang out with my great friend Marcelo for three days before going back to Los Angeles. I was excited to spend time with him and also about trying to catch the last night of carnaval, but my heart was aching when I thought of returning to LA without Andre. I arrived in São Paulo a bit drowsy from the herbal medicine I took to calm my nervous system, and, as I was waiting for the luggage I saw Marcelo with his huge smile, taking digital pics of my arrival. I got excited again. Finally my stuff rolled in and I walked fast to hug him. As we turned around a corner he said he had a surprise for me; I looked into his bag wondering what sort of goodies he would pull out of there and when I looked up again, standing five feet in front of me, there was Andre, with his digital camera in hand capturing my shock of disbelief as it became pure ecstatic euphoria!!!! And then...we were in that state of magic for hours, laughing and crying and hugging and kissing and, well, he will tell you the rest of the story in the next entry. Yes, my tricksygypsyman gave me one of the greatest surprises of my life and I can't wait to get back on the wagon with him. |
