Cruising Down Old Chico

Taking advantage of the fact that I was in Aracaju at the end of last week, a city that if it weren't for work, I probably would have otherwise never visited [the Lonely Planet calls Aracaju the Cleveland of the Northeast. Since I've never visited Cleveland, I can't really comment....], I delayed my trip home by a day so that I could visit the Xingó Canyons on the Rio São Francisco, some 200km north of the city.


The third most important river in Brazil following the Amazon and the Paraná, the São Francisco starts in central Brazil and crosses five states and close to 3,000km before carving out the border between the states of Sergipe and Alagoas and emptying into the Atlantic Ocean. The São Francisco has a mythical status in Brazil with many referring to it as Velho Chico or Old Chico [Chico being the nickname for Francisco] or even the River of National Integration, as it played an important role in terms of communication and transportation between regions and states.




The Xingó Canyons -- essentially a cross between the Grand Canyon and the St. Lawrence River -- were flooded in the 1990s when the Xingó Hydroelectric Dam was built near the city of Canindé de São Francisco. The depth of the water ranges from 15 to 160 metres. On the downside, the flooding caused the loss of several ancient archaeological sites dating back 9,000 years. University teams were fortunately able to excavate the sites and preserve the remains prior to the flooding. On the upside, the dam generates a quarter of the Northeast's electricity and makes for a fun day trip, especially the chance to swim in one of the narrower parts of the canyon. Overall, it was a long twelve and a half hour day [3 and a quarter hours to get there; six hours to visit the Xingó Achaeological Museum, go on the river tour and have lunch; and three and a quarter hours to return], but I am glad that I did it and had the chance to experience some of the grandeur of Old Chico.

Minor Miracle - or - It's a Good Thing that my head is attached to my shoulders via my neck

Life in Brazil revolves around documents and ID papers. I learned this the hard way a year ago when I tried to fly from São Paulo to Brasilia without my passport. Seeing that the flight was a domestic one, I figured that my health card or driver's licence would suffice. Not so. And no amount of rationalising, pleading, and then begging got me on that plane. I ended up returning home, fetching my passport, paying a change fee, and catching the next flight out, making me embarrassingly late for my first meeting. I was thankful though for the fact that I ultimately was able to retrieve my passport and catch the next flight, since for several weeks prior to trip, my passport had been in Brasilia [without me] getting all its necessary stamps and signatures required for me to call Brazil home. I asked both the airline and Consulate what would have happened in the case that I absolutely had not been able to fetch my passport. In both cases, the answer was an unequivocable well, you could forget about any thoughts of travel by plane.

Fast forward to the Five-Cities-in-Five-Days tour of the Northeast. Heading out last Sunday, I decided to slip my passport into my suitcase. A last minute decision based on the fact that the tour company we had hired to drive us around had been quite insistent on having the names and ID numbers of every person who would be travelling on the bus. Thinking that maybe they would want proof that we were who we said we were, I figured that my passport wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Seeing that Aracaju, the last stop on the tour, is a nine hour [somewhere between 500 - 600km] drive from Recife, I had decided much earlier on that I would fly home rather than bus it. Weighing the options of a 45 minute flight versus the nine-hour ride, it was a no-brainer. However, it was only when I walked into the Aracaju airport this morning that I realised how lucky I was that I had brought along my passport. After an initial gasp, I remembered that I had indeed packed my elusive passport and would be able to return home. In no way linked to any forethought about my flight back to Recife, I can only imagine how I would have felt had I had to catch a bus all the way home. I suppose that I should thank the bus company since without their request for our ID numbers it never would have crossed my mind to bring along my passport. Yeah Mar Tur, your need for bureaucracy has saved the day! And for this, I thank you!

Mid-Tour City Envy

Ah! A night in my own bed. What a luxury, even though it won't be for as many hours as I would have liked! Here we are, mid-way through our second Rock 'n Roll Brasil tour and so far so good. Having had the chance to visit Natal a little bit prior to launching into work, I can admit that I have a minor case of city envy. Natal [pop. 800,000] is quite a bit smaller than Recife [pop. 1.5 million in the city proper / 3 million in Greater Recife] and we really only saw two parts of town. But those two parts looked good to me! Okay, in essence, Natal's waterfront area has been developed with a much clearer focus on leisure and entertainment than has Recife's. While Recife has a long coastline with lots of beer/coconut stands, Natal has a whole infrastructure for eating / drinking / walking / shopping / browsing along the water's edge. There also seem to be municipal codes limiting building height which makes for a more relaxed atmosphere compared to Recife's highrise condos and hotels which leave little space for the development of the service industry. If anything, trips like these are like a sampler platter. Quick tastes of several options to help make more decisions for future travel and vacations! Tomorrow we're off bright and early to Maceió. Pics to follow next week.

Rock 'n Roll Brasil Part II

Back in May, my work team and I went on an ambitious business trip which we dubbed the Rock 'n Roll Brasil Tour. The name took on epic porportions for several reasons including the three-cities-in-four-days schedule [four-cities-in-five-days for my poor colleagues from Brasilia and Canada]; the fact that we kept catching the same flight to hop from city to city [good 'ol Varig 2323]; essentially planning the same "show" in each location; and last but not least, being mobbed by a group of highschool students who all wanted our autographs. Well, not to outdo ourselves, we are now embarking on the Rock 'n Roll Brasil Tour Part II, during which we will visit five cities in five days [when three in four just isn't enough!] -- Natal, João Pessoa, Recife (for a bit of a breather, thankfully), Maceió, and Aracaju, the capital cities of the two states north of Pernambuco and the two states south.

This time, in true rock 'n roll fashion we have rented a tour bus which will become our "home" for the week. There won't be much time for tourism except on the Sunday before and the Saturday after, but hopefully I'll have a few stories to tell upon my return. Until next week then!

Pssst Buddy ... Wanna Buy a Printer?

It seems that one of the main occupational categories in Recife is that of bicycle delivery boy/man, with a common sight being a delivery rider with several 20L jugs of water or tanks of gas strapped to his heavy metal bike. The waterboys call out and the gasmen ting the sides of their cylinders with a metal rod announcing their wares.

I am not quite sure how a highrise apartment dweller has the time to hear the ting, run downstairs and outside, and catch the delivery guys before they pass the building. Maybe that is what doormen and interphones are for, but I digress. The other day when I was walking to work, I was passed by a guy riding around with a printer in his bike basket. Yes a printer! He was calling something out announcing his presence, but unfortunately I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying -- just think of a Liverpudlian newspaper seller calling out the day's headlines and you'll be getting close! So whether he was trying to sell the printer or sell its services, it was definitely a sight to behold. Next time I will be so bold as to ask!

They Found Me

Yes, it's true. After a year of living in Brazil and four months of living in Recife, the telemarketers have found me. And you know what? They call during dinnertime here too. Of course, Brazilian dinnertime is several hours after Canadian dinnertime, but same difference! In any case, poor telemarketers. In a way I feel sorry for them as I treat their phones calls as simple extensions of my day job: What exactly is it that your organization does? How many people did you say you attend? How is your client-population selected? What are the results that you have achieved until this point? Have you done any follow-up studies on the longterm effects of your interventions? Do you have other sources of funding? Do you work in partnership with any public entities? How does the organization deal with issues of sustainability?

And they never believe me when I say that I already gave at the office.

Phew!

To follow up on the Literatura do Cordel theme, about a month ago, I bought a canvas tote bag with a reproduction of a woodcut of two couples dancing Forró, a popular dance Northeastern Brazilian dance. What drew me towards the bag was not only the picture, but also the size [perfect for a work-sized binder] and the fact that it closed with a zipper. Although similar canvas bags are for sale all over Recife, the print combined with the particular dimensions of this one made it quite the catch. Little did I know that due to the popularity of woodcuts here in Recife, I would get many many comments on the bag.

One thing about the Northeast is that family names have a level of importance that I have not experienced elsewhere. Each state in the Northeast [there are nine altogether] has a handful of Names That Mean Something, be they either traditional families from the past, or families that have Done Well more recently. In the world of woodcuts, it is the Borges Family that rules. José Francisco Borges is one of the country's most famous woodcut artists having had his works exhibited in North America and Europe and, along with his sons, his brother Amaro Francisco, and Amaro's son Severino, the Borges family is the name in the field. These days, it is Severino who seems to be Recife's favourite son. The bag however, was signed by an artist called Givanildo.

Inevitably, when people -- from everyday citizens to other salespeople -- examine my tote bag, they check to see who the artist is. When they see that it is not Severino, they squint and grimace and try to make out the name of the actual artist, whom of course, they have never heard of. This always makes me feel a little bit guilty, the inference being that I had in fact purchased a product from an impostor who wasn't one of the real names.

This past Saturday afternoon at the Casa da Cultura, where I had gone to do a bit of craft shopping, I happened upon a little store selling all sorts of woodcut products. It turned out that the store was that of Severino Borges himself and that the woman working there was his wife, Ana Maria. Ana Maria admired my bag and I had to guiltily admit that it was not one of her husband's prints. Laughing, she looked at the bag and said "Oh, this is one of Givanildo's prints. That's okay, he is my husband's cousin.". Hurray! All was well in the world again. And as Ana Maria added "It's all the same family."

Needless to say, I feel much better about my bag and its provenance. I also ended up buying a set of two of Severino's prints transfered to tiles, so there is no reason for any lingering feelings of doubt. In any case, I ended up staying quite a while in the store and had a lot of fun listening to Ana Maria talk about her husband and the craft.

In Brazil, only a portion of the act of buying something is about the purchase itself and conversation and social interaction are equally, if in fact not more important, than the commercial transaction. It is not uncommon to be offered a coffee or tea or glass of water when shopping, and if you really get along with the salesperson, a two-cheeked kiss on the way out of the store would turn no heads. This was definitely one of the cases where I felt that the social interaction was at least as valuable as the purchases. Now I just need to find the perfect spot in my place to hang my new, and legitimate, prints!

Literatura do Cordel

Particular to Northeastern Brazil is a form of popular literature called Literatura do Cordel or String Literature. Epic poems or songs written to inform as well as entertain the often -- at least historically -- illiterate inhabitants of the interior, Literatura do Cordel is so named due to the fact that the cheaply printed leaftlets are strung out to sell on string or twine [cordel in Portuguese]. Imported to Brazil by the Portuguese in the mid nineteenth century, Literatura do Cordel has its origins in medieval Europe and the age of the troubadours. Although the existence of similar forms of literature / communication in other parts of the world has mostly died out, the tradition continues in Northeastern Brazil and particularly in Pernambuco, home to some of the country's most eminent cordelistas.

The topics of the poems cover a wide range of subjects, from legends and myths to religious practices to football to news events of the day to awareness raising about political, social and health issues. Overall, thousands and thousands of titles exist and new ones are constantly being created. Titles range from The Woman who Put the Devil in a Bottle; Lambada in Hell; The Boy who Turned into a Goat in the State of Parana; The Romance of the Mysterious Peacock; The Visit of Satan to the Funk Rave; and The Marriage and Divorce of the Gecko to The Most Recent Apparition of Halley's Comet; The Fall of Saddam; Goodbye Princess Diana; Street Children and the Massacre at Candelaria; He who Sees Faces doesn't see AIDS; Strikes & Death in Volta Redona, RJ; and Agricultural Reform is a Right of all Brazilians.

One of the notably features of Cordel Literature is the xylographies or woodprints that decorate the covers. Although the xylographies originally developed as an integral part of the cordel booklets, they eventually became an art form in their own right and can now be found on prints, tiles, mugs, shoulder bags, t-shirts, and even in commercial advertising.

Although Cordel is a phenomenon more closely linked to the interior, it can be found all over Recife in market stalls and being sold by perambulating vendors. There is even a pair of cordelistas who wander around Olinda making up songs and poems on the spot having to do with the actions of the people/audience around them. I'm even thinking that we should start producing some cordel to integrate into our outreach materials!

Where am I?

In the past two days I have seen/heard four helicopters circling in and around the office and apartment. I found it a bit strange, since until yesterday I hadn't seen one helicopter in the four months that I have been living in Recife. In São Paulo [ah yes, the phrase that makes everyone groan!] helicopters are a common site, mainly because:

1. Some Paulistanos have a lot of money;
2. Traffic can be horrendous;
3. Security is a concern, particularly for the ultra-rich; and
4. Some Paulistanos have a lot of money.

Many buildings in São Paulo have helicopter landing pads and it isn't uncommon to see a helicopter touch down, let its occupant out, and then take off again. Although Recife is in no way immune to the same inequalities that plague the rest of the country, the situation doesn't seem to merit commute by helicopter. The fact that Recife is approximately one sixth or seventh the size of São Paulo is probably a contributing factor. I'll have to keep my eyes and ears open to see whether or not it was a one time event or if it is becoming a trend.

All in a day's work in São Paulo.

Water Update

Hurray! Our water was returned to us at 2pm this afternoon. The internet and email, however, crashed at four. Is it so wrong to want it all?

Invação das Formigas

I seem to have an ant thing going on in my kitchen. One day, they appeared out of no where and since then, encouraging them to take their leave has been challenging. A few odd observations:

1. It is clear that ants are attracted to anything sweet. Anytime there has been a drop of anything -- fruit, cookie crumbs, juice -- on the counter, the ants go nuts. Clean up the sweetness, goodbye to the ants. However, strangely enough, even when the counter was absolutely spotless there would still be a small trail of ants moving back and forward. Scrub as I might, they just would not disappear. In a moment of scientific lucidity, I decided to move my cookbooks off the counter. Ten minutes later, problem solved! The ants must have been attracted to the decade-old food splotches in my cookbooks. Yuck!

2. This one I can't figure out. Aside from small remnants of food, the ants are wildly attracted to Felix's water bowl. Perhaps they are dying of thirst? Or trying to perfect their freestyle? No, but seriously, the ants are all over the water. I will routinely find dozens and dozens and dozens of them clumped together floating/swimming in the middle of the bowl. It's quite the sight!

In any case, things are under control now that I have moved the cookbooks and I feel like I have regained control of my kitchen! Now I just need to find a new spot for the books.

Water, the Fountain of Life

We now are into our second day without water at the office. I imagine that it would have been our third day, except we had the day off on Monday for Thanksgiving. Apparently the water will be back by the end of the week.

Since we are a small office, being waterless is a liveable if not particularly enviable situation. However, seeing that today is a holiday in Brazil (Nossa Senhora da Aparecida as well as Children's Day), the waterless situation worried me a little more than it did yesterday. On holidays, much of Brazil shuts down and services which are normally available (e.g.: lunchtime restaurants with washrooms) remain closed. Last time we were open on a Brazilian holiday, I had to buy my lunch at a nearby gas station!

Well, when early afternoon arrived, my colleague and I plotted a strategy for finding a restaurant which would be open and which would hopefully fulfil our food as well as water needs. We chose carefully and strategically and headed on our way. As soon as we were out the door, however, we discovered that the restaurant around the corner was indeed open. Hurray! We quickly ducked inside, took care of our water-based needs, and enjoyed a well-deserved plate of sushi!

Dedication

This morning I was woken at 6:15 am by the laughter and frolic of Recifenses already on the beach celebrating Brazil's Patron Saint Day Nossa Senhora da Aparecida or Our Lady of the Apparition. Six fifteen a.m. That's dedication.

More Adventure than You Can Shake a Stick At

Where would you imagine is the worst place to stall a car? At a red light that has just turned green? In an intersection? Or smack in the middle of a two-lane highway with oncoming traffic in both directions? Yes, I would imagine that that would be particularly bad.

This weekend, in the name of horizon-expanding and escaping the city, a friend and I rented a car and headed to the small beachtown / fishing village of Gaibu, 40 minutes or so south of Recife. Followers of caipirissima, aside from being much appreciated [thank you!], will know that I have been timidly attempting to tackle the roads of Brazil these past few months. With this in mind, actually deciding to rent a car was a major step, as it would be my first time driving standard, by myself, in Brazil, not really knowing where I was going, with no professionally trained instructor next to me. And somehow my friend agreed to all this....

We picked up the car at the airport early Saturday afternoon and headed into the city to pick up the keys to the little beachhouse where we would be staying. Things started well with an immediate wrong turn out of the airport which landed us in a maze of one way streets and no left turns. This isn't actually very surprising, since Recife is almost only composed of one way streets and no left turns. Somehow we managed to right ourselves and we gingerly made our way into the city. I hadn't driven standard since the end of my ten lessons back in March, and well ... let's just say that there was a small period of adjustment. We finally made it into the city after making several more wrong turns and found the house of the owner of the keys. After getting more detailed directions on how to find the beachhouse, we headed on our way, by now, feeling a little bit more confident about the whole clutch/gear thing. Once we hit the highway, everything was golden. Except of course for all the horses, cows, bicycles, children, and vendors which wander in and out of the lanes with alarming frequency. I'm all for local employment [vendors] and transportation [bikes], but really, these people should not have so much confidence in my driving skills.

By mid-afternoon, we made it to Gaibu and were welcomed by the beautiful beach and the relaxed atmosphere of the village. Having never been to Gaibu before, I hadn't known what to expect and was most pleasantly surprised to find a wonderful beach without many people (the strong surf and rocks make parts of it somewhat dangerous for swimming) and an charming village with less tourism than its neighbours, but still with a decent infrastructure of places to eat, music to listen to, and things to do. I didn't take any pictures since without knowing beforehand the security situation of a town, I tend to leave my camera at home. Turns out Gaibu and my camera would have gotten along just fine!

The next morning we found a lovely spot on which to perch ourselves -- on the final rock jutting out of the point in the lower right hand corner of the map below -- and spent several hours watching the surf go in and out. We even managed to watch a group of five dolphins play for a few minutes before they disappeared back into the sea.


Unfortunately because of the terms of the rental car -- 24 hours or your first-born, please -- we could not hang around all day and had to head back into Recife towards the end of the morning. The trip home was smooth sailing and we landed back at the airport with nary a drop of perspiration. There was the moment when a speeding car passed me on the right while I was passing a motorcycle, but it was over in a flash and ended well.

As for Gaibu, a definite two-thumbs up! I have no doubt that it will be incorporated into my routine. And the driving? I think that this weekend was exactly the push that I needed to finally buy my car. Worth every centavo! Oh, and about the worst place to stall a car? Some things are better left unsaid.

Technology Transfer

Last week, I called my bank in Canada to see if I could get a new printout of a particular statement. With my various moves as well as the general lack of a rigid home organization system, the loss of documents was bound to happen [or so I like to tell myself!]. Now, I don't call my bank every day, but I do end up having to call every couple of months and I know the drill for getting banking information over the phone. The bank representative will ask a subset to all of the following questions: what different accounts/services do you have with the bank; when and for how much were the most recent account transactions; what are the balances in the accounts; do you have telephone banking; do you have any investments; what are the automatic deposits and debits set up for your accounts; and of course, the ubiquitous, what is your mother's mother's mother's maiden name.

While I am always prepared to answer the questions, last week I was feeling particularly cognizant of the answers since I had just withdrawn money a day earlier and had a pretty good idea of my balances. In any case, after running through the questions, the operator told me that with the answers I provided she was unable to authorize access to my account. I was speechless, utterly speechless - and those who know me will know that speechlessness is not a trait that I routinely possess. Of course, when I asked which question/answer in particular led her to reject me, she couldn't answer and instead suggested that I go into my branch for more information. When I reminded her that I lived in Brazil and therefore would not be able to just pop into the branch, she didn't seem to have a solution. My solution was to simply call back and speak to a different operator.

In a strange twist of events, I also called my Brazilian bank to request some account information. After giving the account number, the bank representative said that in order to authorize access, I would have to provide my CPF [personal registation number - without which you are no one]. I quickly provided the number and voilà, she was ready to reveal every single detail of my account to me.

It's almost like I was dreaming....

post-scriptum: I actually found the Brazilian response a little light on the bureaucracy [perhaps the exception that proves the rule?] CPFs aren't that difficult to discover....

More Playmo Fun

And here they are whooping it up in Buenos Aires. The funny thing is that sometimes I would return from a vacation destination only to realise that I had no photos without the playmos!

Clockwise from top-left the pictures are: Avenida Nueve de Julio; Recoleta Cemetary; La Boca; and Café Tortoni.

It's Hot. Like Toronto Hot.

When we left Recife at the beginning of August and headed back to Canada for the Cousine's Cottage Weekend, I was shocked at the heat and humidity that enveloped us as soon as we walked out of Pearson Airport. It had not occurred to me that Canada would be even hotter than the steamy temperatures of Recife. Even though it was "winter", the yearly temperatures in the coastal regions of northeastern Brazil are rarely far off the 30º mark.

After a few days in Toronto, the temperatures dipped back down to reasonable, and the rest of our vacation was rather pleasant in climatic terms. In any case, a true sign that summer is arriving in Brazil is that the humidity is climbing steadily and the daily norm of 28-32º suddenly seems a whole lot hotter. Kind of like Toronto on a hot hazy humid summer's day!

Happiness is ...

... two kinds of ice cream, finding your skate key, telling the time. Happiness is learning to whistle. Tying your shoe for the very first time...

Happiness is also finally finding my favourite Brazilian coffee and tomato sauce here in Recife! Ah, yes. Such simple pleasures. But, really this is a big thing. Back at home of course I had all my favourite brands, makes, and styles of everything and could easily do my grocery shopping in a smooth twenty minutes. There was a routine. There was a floorplan. There was a schedule. Thirty minutes if I hadn't been shopping in a while. The grocery store was around the corner from my place. Life was sweet.

And then I moved to São Paulo. Grocery shopping no longer took twenty minutes, at least not to start with. All of a sudden I was faced with making choices. Hard choices! We're talking major decisions, here. Slowly, I started to test and try the local brands and within a short while ended up with new favourites. Yeah! Grocery shopping was back to taking twenty minutes!

It never occurred to me that I would have to go through this routine again after moving to Recife. But, in fact, I did. The brands here were either different from the ones in São Paulo or the same brand would be double the price [transportation costs, I guess!]. I managed to discover a new coffee brand aided by a Best of Recife review done by one of the media houses, but I still hadn't been able to settle on a new tomato sauce. Then the other day, when I was shopping in a large but unfortunately totally out of the way superstore, I found both my coffee and my tomato sauce. Not knowing whether it was regular stock or a once-in-a-posting offer, I greedily filled my basket up to the brim and brought my goodies home.

Tasty cappuccinos and italian for all!

Where is that?

Imagine a place where the rich are rich and the poor are poor. A place where the richest twenty percent of society makes fifty-two times that which the lowest twenty percent makes. Imagine that twenty-five years ago, that same top twenty pecent made twenty-one times the average income of the poor. Fifteen years ago, the difference jumped to thirty-two. Today, it is at fifty-two, with the lowest twenty percent making two cents for every dollar earned by the richest twenty percent. Since 2000, the number of middle-class earners has decreased, while those classified as poor or upper-class have both increased.

Is it Brazil? Is it Recife? Is it São Paulo?

No. It is Manhattan.

More Portuguese Words that Confuse

Fortunately I don't work in the music industry and therefore rarely have to use these words!

1. Violão means guitar.
2. Violino means violin.
3. Guitarra means electric guitar.

Saints & Sinners

On Saturday, I took the backroute to the grocery store and came across a small gallery with several antique stores. Nestled among them was a store which sold baroque saints and ... bikinis. Only in Brazil, I tell you!

Just in case there is any confusion, I don't actually relate bikinis to sinning. Just thought the title looked good!

The Adventures of the Playmos

Now that all those concerned know the story, I can share a little bit about the Adventures of the Playmos. Last September, I headed to the Netherlands for the wedding of two good friends of mine. The bride, a flatmate from my days at the University of Manchester, and the groom, a fellow traveller that I met in Central America ten years ago this month ... hey! almost exactly to the day [happy tenth anniversary Pablo - who knew that all this would happen since our days playing cards and frightening off the wild dogs of Cuchumatan in Todos Santos??]! I didn't exactly introduce the two to each other, but they met because of me following a string of rather humourous events in which teeth were brushed, Dutch alcohol whose name I can never remember was consumed, and phone calls were made.

In Manchester, I lived in a student flat with nine other grad students and a few hanger ons hailing from all around the world. We bonded immediately and intensely and have made a point of meeting up in either official [when there is a general call to arms] or unofficial [when sub-groups meet without a general call] reunions. Fortunately weddings provide rather good opportunities for these encounters. So last September, a month before moving to Brazil, I headed to the Netherlands for the fourth set of flatmate nuptials. During the reception, the band of flatmates and demimates [those who spent an awful lot of time in the flat, but didn't actually live there] hatched the plan to kidnap [playmonap ?] the Playmobil Bride and Groom who were the mascots of the wedding. We decided that the Playmos would travel the world for one year and that an album of their adventures would be given to the real bride and groom on their first year anniversary. Oh yes! We were a clever bunch!

So for the past twelve months, the Playmobride and Playmogroom have been having quite the honeymoon visiting lots of different locations in Italy, Cuba, Canada, France, the Netherlands, Brazil, Argentina, Chile, India, England, and Greece. I suspect that they also made it to Pakistan! As for the Brazil portion of their adventure -- I think that I had just as much fun as they did! Here are a few of my favourite playmoshoots from the last year:


Clockwise from top left: Salvador, Bahia; Museu Ipiranga, São Paulo; Celebrating São João in Caruaru, Pernambuco; and Rio de Janeiro.

Having a Fit

Yes, it is true. I had a Fit yesterday afternoon. A Honda Fit, that is! Almost to the day of my one year anniversary of arriving in Brazil, I finally test drove a car. After the Chevy experience, in which there was no car to test drive, I figured that I should lay the trail and pre-arrange the Honda experience. The Fit is a pretty nice car, a hatchback but not one of the micro-mini hatches that are all over Brazil.

The test drive was shockingly short -- I essentially got to go down the street for a kilometre, turn around and come back. And that was billed as the long version! Unfortunately it is pretty hard to figure out what you think about a car when you spend your whole time freaking out that some crazy Recife driver is going to cut you off / rear-end you / brake too quickly immediately in front of you / etc. / not to mention the motorcycles weaving in and out of traffic, rather than paying attention to the specifics of the car.

Now maybe my glasses are a little bit too rosey ... but I am pretty sure that I was less nervous learning to drive a manual-shift car in São Paulo than I was driving an automatic in Recife. While I admit that the first few days of learning to drive manual in São Paulo were intensely nerve-racking, by the end I was feeling pretty good. And some how, it seems that in São Paulo, although traffic is a chaotic nightmare, a certain level of respect exists between drivers. You need to be assertive and have an excellent sense of space, or lack thereof, no question about that. But other drivers' will almost certainly give you the inch and a half or two inches that you need to change lanes or turn or do whatever else you must. Not so much so in Recife! Ladies and Gentlemen, watch your mirrors. In any case, the test drive was a success. No one was injured, at least not physically. And hopefully I will make my mind up soon!

Sinagoga Kahal Zur Israel - or - How the Jews of Recife Founded New York City's first Synagogue

A couple of weekends ago, I headed down to the old part of town and visited the Kahal Zur Synagogue, in the heart of Recife Antigo. The history of Recife's Jews dates back to the first days of the colony and is directly linked to the founding of the United States' first Jewish community, Shearith Israel.

Fleeing the onset of the Inquisition in Europe, many "converted" Jews fled Spain and Portugal. A portion of these New Christians ended up in Northeastern Brazil, where they outwardly followed Catholic traditions, while inwardly trying to maintain their Jewish culture, traditions, and rituals. While the Inquisition never had an office directly set up in Brazil, Portugual did send Inquisitional Commissioners to Brazil starting in the 1590s and people suspected of non-Catholic activities were sent to Portugual for trial under the Inquisition.

In 1630, after a short-lived attempt to establish Dutch rule in Salvador, Bahia, the Dutch managed to oust the Portuguese from Recife and established what would be Brazil's only non-Iberian colonial power, a reign which lasted until 1654. One of the results of twenty-four years of Dutch control was a level of religious tolerance otherwise unheard of in either Iberian Europe or the New World. In addition to an influx of Dutch Jews who immigrated to Recife, those already living in Recife and Olinda quickly reverted back to their traditional customs. In 1636, the Kahal Zur Israel Synagogue was founded and by 1654, Recife's European population was fifty percent Jewish [1500 out of a total population of 3000].

In an effort to win back this lost portion of Brazil, the Portuguese mounted a guerrilla war in 1645 and finally managed to oust the Dutch nine years later. The return of Portuguese rule in Recife meant an end to religious tolerance and the Capitulation Protocol signed between the Dutch and the Portuguese gave all Dutch and Jews three months to leave Brazil. Recife's Jewish community essentially disbanded with some members returning to Amsterdam, others fleeing to the interior of Brazil and clandestinely practicing their religion, while others hopped aboard ships and headed to other parts of the New World [including Curaçao which already had a small Dutch-Jewish community]. One of the groups which fled Brazil was an ensemble of twenty-three Recifense Jews who set sail in September 1654 for New Amsterdam -- later to be renamed New York City. Upon arrival in New Amsterdam, this group of twenty-three founded Shearith Israel Synagogue, North America's, and the eventual United States', first Jewish community, which still exists today.

The Portuguese closed Kahal Zur Israel Synagogue in 1655, one year after the Dutch capitulation. It was only excavated and reopened in 2002 after having also spent time as a bank and an electronics store during the recent past. The synagogue was rediscovered during renovations and its restoration was funded by one of Brazil's banking foundations. Recife again has a small Jewish community, although the its origins are more closely linked with 20th Century immigration from Eastern Europe and not with the Recife's original Jewish population.