Monday, 22 June 2015

Recife to Salvador

When I booked the car online, the cheapest option was a flat bed truck - which was tempting! However, I opted for the sensible option of a small car, a Ford Fiesta or similar. What we ended up with was somewhere in between, and made me feel a little like I was driving a family car, or perhaps a taxi. It was a VW Passat, although they call it a VW Voyage here. I've noticed before the different names for cars in South America, for example a Golf is a Gol and this new name for a VW salon car does fit rather well with the name of this blog at least!

I said that I would make some comment on the Brazilian driving so here goes. My worries began primarily when I asked Monika who had the priority at junctions and got the reply that no one does, it's just whoever gets there first and makes the first move. Apparently, the driving license test consists of a written test, and a purely off road course, with no on road part to it at all. Flashing your lights does not indicate "please go ahead" but rather "move out of the way, I'm coming through". They use the horn for just about everything: when coming up to a junction to warn other drivers of their presence;  to warn someone that you have arrived outside their house; to say hello to friends on the road; and of course to attract the attention of passing attractive girls or boys. Indicators are largely ignored, mainly because there appears to be no rhyme nor reason to their use. In addition, once they are switched on they are almost never cancelled. 

The cities are built in blocks, meaning that virtually all of the streets are one way. As a European driver, this posed us some navigation questions, and several times we had to take longcuts in order to find a "retorno", make a u-turn and go back the way we came. Perhaps it's just that I am not used to it, but several times there did not seem to be any obvious indication as to when the streets became two-way or indeed went down to one-way. 

You can't park anywhere in city without being harassed by a handful of "parking helpers", men who hover around the streets making a couple of reales from helping motorists to park and, supposedly, keeping an eye on their car while it is parked. In addition, you are confronted by the more usual steer sellers, whose wares range from the useful (water, snacks etc) to the slightly more odd (cloth, socks etc). 

With regard to their actual driving, it's as you'd expect: fast and erratic. They straddle lanes, undertake, and often simply try and move into a space which isn't there, forcing other motorists to make way for them, or risk damaging there own car, or indeed risking their lives. Perhaps this goes some way to explain the religious slogans on all the vehicles, ranging from "This is a gift from God" to "I am driving, but God is guiding me". I had to adapt quickly to this style, as the idea of defensive driving means something else entirely here. This became even more cleat after being told off once by a Brazilian friend for breaking at an amber light, not putting my foot down. He said that if I carried on like that, I was likely to have someone crash into me from behind. 

The other challenge facing motorists, is the state off the roads. Particularly in the northeast (we noticed a huge improvement generally the further south we drove) the road surface is unpredictable. There are pot holes everywhere, even on the motorways, which cause lorries, buses and cars to served at a moments notice, at over 100km/h. 

Nevertheless, we we excited and felt prepared by the time we left Recife in the mornings, bound for Peroba, a small beachy village where one of the family have a beach house they had kindly let us use. The weather was less than ideal, with strong winds and heavy rain making the drive slower and the visibility poor. The road and journey was fairly straightforward, with the exception of a detour on a bumpy dirt track, where we had to make way for a passing gaggle of geese. We had planned to stop off at Porto de Galhinhas, a pretty beach resort but decided to push on due to the weather. 

We were meet at the beach house by Sandro, a neighbour who had the keys of the house. Once again, we could have been made to feel more at home, with the family inviting us into their home, feeding us spectacularly and sharing stories and pictures. The houses are scattered around a large plot of land which you can tell is being developed quickly. The place still has a wonderful authentic village feel, and consists of not much more than some shops, a few hotels, and a shop, but as Sandro pointed out, this is likely to change quickly. We had our first swim in the wonderful, warm sea in the afternoon, before heading back up to Sandro's house for a peaceful, charity evening. We were taught how to cook tapioca, and drank plenty of coffee and "vitaminas", a fruit milkshake. 

The next day, we arose early and headed down to the beach for sunrise, and stated the day with a long walk down the beach. After breakfasting on black coffee and "bolas de Maragogi" (flaky pastry biscuits from the local area), Sandro was kind enough to take us out to the natural pools which from out in the bay at low tide. The sand shelves a few hundred meters from the beach which are easily reached on foot, or swimming. We took a raft out with us, complete with parasol, and headed out. We arrived at a tiny island, our own private beach and spent a wonderful couple of hours sunbathing, taking pictures, and snorkelling. 

Hard as it was to move on, from the paradise private beach, Sandro and his family were heading to our next stop, Maceio, too to visit his oldest daughter who lives there and we thought it might be a good idea to drive in convey. We probably made better progress like this (I had to keep up with a Brazilian driver), but we still had time to take in the excellent views. Everyone now and then we would get a peak of the sea as we followed the coastal road, but most of the time we were surrounded by great expanses of sugar cane fields. We passed through Maragogi, a larger town near Peroba, and countless small villages and towns, some very rural and full people and animals going about their daily routine. 

We arrived in Maceio on late afternoon, and checked into to our hotel quickly before heading down to the beach for a bite to eat. After some tasty fish and cheese croquettas, we tried to meet up with Sandro again for some drinks but unfortunately it didn't work out that evening for them with the family they were staying with. We said goodbye and thank you over to phone to yet another kind and generous person we have met on this trip. 

We set out in the car that evening to have a little tour of the city, as we were due to set out early the next day. The centre was small but pretty, with a couple of impressive buildings however most of the action seemed to be on the water front in the evening where there was a long promenade lined with restaurants and market stalls. It reminded me of what I imagine Miami to look like. We took a slight wrong turn on our driving tour at one point and I'm fairly sure we drove straight through the red light district which was less than ideal! Thankfully we made it out safe and sound and headed to the recommended restaurant in the city, which turned out very different to what we imagined. All of the waitresses were dressed in a sort of fancy dress loosely based on the traditional dress of the interior of the state, with headscarves and full skirts. The strangest thing was what the place was decorated with: teapots! There were hundreds of them, covering every available surface. However, the food was decent, and there was a full buffet to choose from, so we were able to try some of the traditional dishes we had not been able to yet. 

After a good night's sleep, we set out early for what we had planned to be the longest driving day of the trip. The first half was tough going: the road was terrible, despite being a motorway, with holes everywhere and speed bumps which were regularly not signposted, causing everyone to break suddenly.  We saw lots of roadkill, including a couple of horses. The trucks and buses were aggressive, and my defensive driving had to be taken to a new level. The scenery was once again very different as we were much further inland to the road down from Recife to Maceio. The strangest thing was that they appeared to be building a new road and seemingly from the signs, the military were responsible for it, but it seemed to have been abandoned. There were several bridges and flyovers already built at different stages, but very little else, and there were no building materials or machinery, or indeed men working.

I was very glad to come to our planned stop just outside Aracaju, in a pretty, small town called São Cristóvão. We arrived about five hours into the drive, and enjoyed a quick lunch in a lanchonette (snack bar) and a pleasant wander around the cobbled streets, pretty churches and squares. One of the churches is now a resting home for elderly nuns, and the local history museum was worth a peek in. The town is famous for a type of sweet biscuit, half way between a macaroon and cheesecake, made with lots of coconut. It was delicious and helped fuel us for the next part of our journey.

Unfortunately, our 3G network failed us upon leaving São Cristóvão, and we ended up driving a significant distance down the wrong road.  In fact, it wasn't really a road at all, but a dirt track which eventually turned into a stream, forcing me to turn the car around. The surface was terrible, especially after a few recent downpours, and the road so narrow to make passing local buses, we flew down there at incredible speed, fairly interesting! At that point, I wished we had hired the truck I mentioned before as a 4x4 would have been very useful!

Eventually, we had to ask a couple of passersby which way lead back to the main road, and, after passing through the town once more, we were finally on our way again. Thankfully, the road was significantly better south of Aracaju, as we lost the light very quickly.  In fact, the road was spectacular, very straight with steep climbs and drops meaning you could see for miles ahead. 

Around four hours after leaving São Cristóvão, we finally arrived at our destination, Praia do Forte, and were immediately struck by how different it was to other places we had been so far. It's a veritable holiday resort frequented by the polo shirts and chino short sporting Brazilians and Argentines, which you enter through a security gate before driving along a pretty, tree-lined road bordering the lagoon.  We stayed in a simple hostel right in the centre of the resort and marveled at how much money we could have spent in the swish hotels and condos surrounding us. In fact, I am sure that we could have spent a lot of money there in the lovely clothes, jewellery and beach shops. We did all buy tiny Brazilian bikinis, although I am sure that I will never wear mine!

The local delicacy this far down in the coast into Bahia is a fish stew, Moqueca, which is heavily influenced by the West African culture so noticeable in Bahia.  It is made with onion, tomatoes , peppers, coconut milk and palm oil which gives a wonderful, vibrant, red colour to the sauce. As with most Brazilian food, it is served with rice, farofa (fried yuca, or manioc, flour known as farinha) and pirau (a thick sauce made in farinha and stock). We wasted no time in trying some, and it was very tasty. We rounded off our first evening in Praia do Forte in a local bar, as it was Friday night after all, where a local band was playing, and we were treated to some fantastic flashy dancing by the local diva. I've never seen such great moving hips on a man! We were also entertained by the grandmother in the bar, who took to making friends with the local drug dealer and hiding behind a watermelon, all while dancing to the music.

There are several tourist attractions in Praia do Forte, including whale watching for which we were unfortunately we were not in the correct season for.  We limited ourselves to just one, the Projeto Tamar, a turtle preservation programme.  We weren't really sure what to think of it; as my guide book says: "the turtles do not seem all that happy, but at least they are alive". In addition, we were suspicious as the main sponsor is an oil company currently in the spotlight for embezzlement claims. That said, the research it funds is important, and the figures showing an increase in the numbers of turtles released into the wild seem well backed up.

We left the hordes of well heeled holiday makers the behind after a much needed two night rest and completed the last, straightforward drive to Salvador, perhaps one of our most anticipated stops of our trip. We had booked our one slash out night here, in a highly recommended hotel called Casa do Amarelindo. It was justly recommended, and was run by two Frenchmen, one of whom, Didier who we spoke to mainly, could not have been more helpful, nor more friendly. I couldn't help but have an "industry" chat with him about his wonderful hotel, which was hard to fault. Of particular note is incredible, and enormous, breakfast served to you at any time of the day. In addition, it was a real treat to have such large, comfortable beds, hot, powerful showers, not to mention the roof top bar and swimming pool!

In fact, a little bizarrely, we noted a large number of French people and businesses in Salvador, although you can't help but not the strong Afro-Brazilian culture which is apparent in their dress, food, religion and music.  Traditionally dressed women, Bahianas, in white dresses and brightly coloured turbants, serve fresh Aracaje (fried prawn balls) on the street, and the music and religion are fused together in Candomblé. Although we didn't have time to see a demonstration, or Candomblé mass, one of the highlights of our first evening wandering around the city's historic centre, Pelourinho, was listening to and choosing some music in a fantastic little music shop.

Besides this wonderful cultural heritage, the whole city is famed for it's countless churches, which are found on almost every street. The large São Francisco convent was very grand, with lots of ornate, gold plating on the alter, a pretty courtyard decorated with Portuguese tiles as well as some rather unlikely objects such an old gramophone! The picturesque cobbled streets of the Pelourinho are lined with brightly painted shops and houses and it was especially pretty in June as they are decorated with colourful bunting for the festival of São João, celebrated particularly in the North of Brazil as we had discovered already in Recife.

We dined in the hotel that evening, where unsurprisingly the menu découverte included steak and chips as an option (!), which we enjoyed with caipifruta cocktails, and a bottle of Malbec. The next day, we enjoyed the view from the rooftop pool, and Anna even made use of the hotel gym, before heading out for a few more hours exploring the city. Highlights included the iconic art deco Lacerda lift, which links the higher and lower parts of the city, and the church of Nosso Senhor do Bomfim which is famous for an important religious procession in January where the Bahianas wash the steps of the church. All over the city, the famous ribbons of Bomfim are sold, which you traditionally tie  around your wrist and three knots, making a wish for each. The most interesting part of the church itself is the miracle room, where injured or ill people or their relatives ask for pictures of themselves to be hung to the walls, and even offer wax models of the parts of their bodies affected by ailments to ask for miraculous cures. The affect of over a hundred wax models of body parts, everything from lungs, to hearths, limbs and brains, hanging from the ceiling of the small room is quite eerie. 

As we drove towards the airport, we had one final surprise in store in the form of a beautiful bamboo lined driveway leading up the the airport building, It was then goodbye to the car, and a further two planes to finally arrive in Florianopolis, the next stop on our three week trip.

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