Jericoacora - A Slice of Paradise

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The sunsets in Jeri are famous throughout Brazil, most likely due to the massive Sunset Dune from which to watch them. At about 5pm, all the gringos, and no small amount of locals, would flock like ants up the dune to watch the day fade away. Young boys backflip down the steep banks to the appreciation of all, others sandboard, a hippy might drum a bongo. The sea breeze is warm, and the energy is so positive you could charge a battery. When the sun is gone, we head towards the drumming on the lower beach in front of the appropriately named (for once) Skybar. Here we gather in a circle to watch the capoeira masters and students leap and somersault in the air. Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art that combines dancing, gymnastics and deft agility to create an awesome spectacle of movement and acrobatics. Two people will go at each other, landing kicks millimeters from each other to create a beautiful tango with dangerous undertones. When the stars arrive and it gets too dark to see, it’s time to nap in preparation of the night ahead.

After months of going solo, I enjoyed finding a gang of fellow misfits to waste the week away. For the first couple of days, Adrian amused (and scared) us all with his utter determination and devotion to the art of hunting women. This reached its climax when he brought home a young girl and proceeded to have his way with her, mere inches from my hungover head and to Phillipe’s unmasked horror. My bed shook, the girl screamed, and it just wasn’t good cricket, as one would say. Adrian left to pursue some girl he met who lived in Fortalesa, and along came Tarka aka Sorry to be Frank from Ireland. A semi-pro musician, Tarka brought with him great speakers for our iPods, a good guitar, and a refreshing bluntness, hence his quickly earned nickname, Frank. We met the stunning Juliana and Camilla, vacationing from Sao Paulo, and later the striking Hila from Tel Aviv, and formed a happy hang to waste the week. We walked to Pedra Furada, a beautiful rock formation up the coast, or danced to bad music, or hung out in the hammocks listening to Tarka’s mellow guitar. Not even the mosquitoes or burrowing beetles (which require you wear sandals when walking around) could dampen the mood. Together with Hila, who had never rode a horse before, I explored the dunes on a mule I’ll call Jigsaw, because she was falling apart. Long dinners, quiet afternoons, great company ≠ it was sad to see the week vaporize. They say time goes quickly when you’re busy, but it truly does fly when you’re doing absolutely nothing, but having fun. Catching the night bus back to Fortalesa was upsetting, to depart from the magic of Jeri, to depart from the wonderful people I had met there. Sitting in the back of an open all-terrain bus, driving along a beach beneath an almost full moon, I felt an electric buzz at the sheer exoticness of this kind of life.

The night before, I bumped into Neil, who I met in Buenos Aires. He was on his way to catch the bus back to Fortalesa, and was looking somewhat troubled.
“I hated Jeri,” he said. “I couldn’t find anyone to hang out with, and everywhere I went was empty.” Goes to show.
It is the people you meet who create the paradise you find.

Fortalesa Airport
Brazil

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