ARRAIAL D’AJUDA

Thirty years ago, Arraial was a tiny fishing village, huddled round the triangular square running away from the little church perched on the cliff edge. The only access was by a very intermittent ferry across the Burnagem river from Porto Seguro, and then along 3 km of sandy track between the beach and the mangroves, before climbing the hill into the village.

Then in the 80’s it was discovered by the hippy crowd. Our 1992 Lonely Planet of Brazil contains a graphic description of the scene at that time, “… marijuana clouds the main street, white horses gallop wildly through the town, wasted minstrels sing songs and ancient village women wear Nina Hagen T-shirts.” Well, I haven’t seen a white horse, and I wouldn’t know a Nina Hagen T-shirt if I did see one, but the rest is still fairly applicable, although I suspect it was all a bit more chaotic then. There are plenty of people still here who arrived in that epoch. Some have grown up and settled down, others, tattooed, dread-locked and wrinkled, still hang around the main square selling handicrafts (or not). There are a host of newer arrivals, some as hip as the 80’s crowd, others decidedly street-wise and C21st – this is the place where cool vibes and marijuana meet kite surfing and consumerism!

The sun, sand and surf are unchanged, making it a tropical paradise from the tourist brochures – although for various reasons (which include the year-round humidity and mosquitoes) we have decided not to stay here long-term. We are renting a little house, one block back from the road (now paved) linking the ferry and the village. It is in a sandy plot full of trees, hibiscuses and banana plants. We hear bird-song all day and owls at night. On Friday night, when the owls stop, we hear the music from an island in the river 2 km, where the tourists in P Seguro party from 0200 to 0600!!!

The human fauna is rich and strange! Here is a small selection from my forthcoming book (?!), with some small changes made to avoid possible embarrassment:

One of our neighbours is a man in his late 60’s, Alfonso, who lives with his 30-something wife, Alicia, and their 4 small children. Also living in an independent flat in the garden is an Irishwoman in her 70’s, Kath, who speaks fluent Portuguese. She and Alicia get on famously – one of them buys a bottle of wine and they go to Kath’s flat or down to the beach together to tipple. Kath has just been on the waggon for a week because she dropped a heavy weight on her toe and is on anti-biotics. Well it turns out that Kath was married for 25 years to none other than Alfonso! What is more, she originally came out to Brazil as a missionary, and threw it in to marry him… She got (inherited?) a bit of money of her own with which she bought this place and they all live there together as one happy family – she is surrogate grandmother to the children.

Ricardo is staying in a friend’s pousada (B&B). He is a psychologist in his mid-thirties and has come here for a period of quiet to get over being widowed for the second time. And in both cases the defunct was named Jorge! The latest partnership was for 9 years, and they had a business, a flat and a car together. When Jorge died he had a tremendous legal battle with the family to claim his rights as “spouse” to all their joint property, which he won – Good for him!!

Further down the road live a couple of Argentineans – they have been here for over 20 years. He is still living in the 70’s, had quite long (bedraggled) hair but last week took it all off and now sports a shaven scalp. This shows off his earring better when he drives round on his moped with his helmet worn fashionably on the wrist. You go round for a drink in the evening and he is sure to be smoking a joint… I found him trying to change a wheel on his car the other day and having a lot of trouble undoing the nuts – he was turning the spanner the wrong way! She is a bit more together but very naïve, and quite unversed in technology, while the children are permanently wired to the internet. They make a living creating handicraft fairies of modelling clay, with wings cut out of coke bottles – not quite as bad as it sounds…

I am taking classes to keep up my Russian with a guy from Odessa who got out in 1989 and has not been back. He is an artist as well as an excellent musician. Lives at the moment in Sicily but came here to escape the northern winter. He is in love with a Cuban model in Rome, but she doesn’t want to know. He paints on the theme of the “Sacred Feminine” in a curious style with elongated figures and geometrical designs – not quite my taste, but he assures us that he is a great artist, it’s just that nobody understands: “Nobody understood Caravaggio or Picasso either.” He has managed to find free accommodation and plays guitar one night a week in a restaurant in order to eat. In Italy he played the piano…

As well as picking up my ranslations again I have got a part time job managing bookings in a pousada which will cove our expenses and keeps me out of trouble, plus solving the problem of internet access...