I Just Bought a Fabulous Pair of Shoes

How's that for as radical a shift as possible from my previous post? I realise that the change is a little shallow, reprenhensible really, but I am just so pleased and in fact, amazed, with my new shoes, that I couldn't resist writing about them.

Contrary to popular belief, it's actually not that easy to buy shoes in Brazil/Recife. The selection tends to oscillate between four-inch heels (platform or stiletto) and flipflops, with very little inbetween. About a month ago I saw a pair of shoes in Mr. Cat that caught my eye - brown leather, low heel, modern, high quality, well made. Could it be? Could I have found the coveted inbetween? I tried them on, but wasn't completely convinced, and ended up leaving them in the store. After a month of trying to find a suitable substitute, I decided to go back and buy a pair of the Mr. Cat's. Sadly, when I entered the store, they were no where to be seen. My conversation with the storegirl went something like this:

Me: Hi. I was here a couple of weeks ago and tried on a brown leather shoe with low heels, but I guess you must have sold out.
Salesgirl: Yes. I know exactly which pair you are talking about. It was a huge success. Everyone loved the low heel and comfortable design.
Me: [hamsters turning]
Salesgirl: We still have some, but we keep them in the back now. I'll bring one out for you to try on.
Me: [hamsters still turning]. Great.
Salesgirl: [comes back with two pairs of shoes, the original as well as a second, similar model] Okay, here they are.
Me: Hmmmmmm. I'm still not sure about the original model, but this second pair is amazing.
Salesgirl: Yes, it was selling so quickly, we decided to put it in the back room.
Me: ?
Salesgirl: It's such a great shoe. You know, for actually wearing. Like to work and stuff.
Me: Mmmmmmm. Yes, they seems to be. I'll take 'em.
Salesgirl: Terrific. I'm sure you'll love them just like everyone else.

And there you have it. The story of how these shoes do exist and are coveted. Entrepreneurs take note: there are riches to be made, but please, why are they hidden at the back of the store?

INTENSITY

I wasn't really concerned until my colleague started with the questions.

Do you know where we are going?
Do you know who is taking us there?
Do you know who will be there?
Do you know what will happen once we get there?
Do you know what time we will be back?

The answers, of course, were all no, and it was then that I started to think that maybe I should be worried.

An unmarked white van picked us up at our hotel and swiftly carried us away through dark and winding streets to Caixa D'Agua, a lower-income neighbourhood in Salvador. The access road was high up on the side of one of the city's many hills and the van left us in front of a non-descript row of gritty houses. We scrambled down a steep and narrow alley and then up a staircase at the end to get to our final destination - a small room on the second floor of someone's house.

The intense heat of the room hit us as soon as we entered. The pounding of drums in the corner was rhythmic and hypnotising. Women dressed in white were dancing in what little space there was. Bodies were pressed together. We slipped into the crowd. People were chanting in Yoruba. A row of community elders were seated at the back of room, clearly not able to see a thing. As the crowd grew and swirled, I found myself pushed to the far corner of the room, mesmerised by the sounds, the movement, and the heat, split from my companions.

Slowly, more and more people started to enter the room through a small side door. People dressed as Orishas - Afro-Brazilian deities - started dancing. Chanting. Girating. Eyes clenched shut.

A low moan eminated beside me. I turned around and saw the girl standing next to me swaying to and fro, as if nauseous. She started to falter and collapse. As she straightened up, I could see that her eyes had rolled to the back of her head. She arched her back and let out a moan that turned into a long, low howl. A woman in white careful guided her into the back room.

The dancing continued. The drumming got louder and faster. More people squished into the room. The heat rose. All around me, women fell into trances. One. Two. Three. Four. Some were led away, bodies still convulsing. Others were calmed and brought back to the here and now. Two dancers collapsed on the floor and were ritually carried off by the rest of the group. My companions and I, scattered throughout the room, tried to make sense of eveything. We flicked our eyes at each other, hoping that we would understand our own strange sign language. It was like watching a video of which we alternately were, and then were not, a part.

Two hours later, we made our way to the door and slipped out, the fresh air of the outside world hitting our lungs like a bright white light. We were driven back to the hotel at which point we headed straight to the bar, unsure whether a smooth caipirinha would help us make sense of the intensity of what we had just witnessed.

Not So Good for Zee List

I'm back with my feet on [in?] the sand after a whirlwind business trip, first to Jamaica - as my friend Dave says You guys sure pick nice places to have group hugs - and then to springy-by-the-time-I-left Ottawa. To all those whom I didn't manage to see [which, actually, is most of you], I apologise - it was literally a whirlwind. I meant to post some interim blogs, but when I had to choose between Thai food and blogging, the Thai food won everytime!

Two weeks outside of Brazil, of course, wasn't too useful when it comes to The List, but, then again, the chances that I would have actually done something exotic here in Brazil in the intervening weeks was slim in any case. And, in an extreme case of Be careful what you wish for, I am again off to Salvador with a quick stop in Brasilia on Wednesday.

Poor Felix. Will he forgive me?