Old Recife and New Friends/"Friends"

Oh the tropical morning breeze in rainy season, with its warm and gentle, yet crispy, caresses snaking in through my window that keeps the skin stickiness at bay and allows a few moments without the stale AC air filling my lungs...sigh

  

I encountered my first mosquitoes last night and so I decided I'd try to set up my mosquito net that I purchased for 50$. I decided to bring this net along because there is a fair amount of dengue fever in Brazilian cities. I have had the pleasure of contracting dengue in the past and if you have the luck of catching dengue a second time then the risk of hemorrhagic dengue increases immensely...enough for me to pay 50 bucks for a net. I would just absolutely HATE to start bleeding from my tear ducts and other orifices. While the mosquito that transmits dengue is indeed a day-time biting mosquito, daytime means the whole spectrum of day time to them: from the wee wee hours of dawn until the last vestiges of sun rays are squelched out, so a net, especially for the morning is still doing its job at 6 am. Anyways, the net I purchased FOR 50 DOLLARS from the VANCOUVER COASTAL HEALTH AUTHORITY TRAVEL CLINIC is the WORST NET I'VE EVER OWNED. Once it is set up, it feels like you are sleeping in a net coffin. It is treated with pyrethrum and it sticks all over your arms and legs and it's so close to your face and you're breathing that garbage in. So I've decided to give up on it and just wear my 25% DEET repellent to bed...my evening moisturizing ritual. As you can probably tell, I'm super pissed at wasting this money and someone from those clinics should actually travel and try to wrestle with the terribly designed products they hock. 

I also have heard discussion at my public health conference that in Brazil, mosquito control for things like zika, yellow fever, and dengue is indeed an equity issue: spray where the tourists and rich people are and neglect the poor areas. So, as elitist as this is going to sound, I'm not worried. BUT I fully acknowledge how unfair this is and how unfair it is that I have the unearned privilege of existing and moving around in spaces where those little vampires are more likely to leave me alone.

Yellow fever awareness raising poster in Brasilia airport-- where rich-ish people hang.

Yellow fever awareness raising poster in Brasilia airport-- where rich-ish people hang.

Yellow fever vaccinations in the historical center of Curitiba--where more rich-ish people hang (and a few homeless people)

Zika awareness raising poster in the historical center of Curitiba--you guessed it! Also where rich-ish people hang

I'm not saying that these campaigns ONLY happen in these areas, but let's face it, I was annoyed about not being picked up by a personal car and driver at the airport yesterday so obviously I'm not doing much real sleuthing in favelas to thoroughly investigate as to whether these kinds of public health campaigns are happening everywhere-- I'm sure they are, though...maybe...well I'd like to hope so.

Sleeping net-free allowed me an incredibly deep and wonderous slumber and I awoke feeling ready to go exploring. But first: BREAKFAST! And a breakfast it is that they offer here at my pousada. It consists of beautiful fruit, ham and cheese (of course...latin America cannot get enough ham and cheese), and a number of really beautiful regional foods:

The breakfast spread

Inhame, macaxeira, munguza, sweet rice, and caramelised bananas

I always find it slightly surreal when I am introduced to vegetables and fruits that I didn't know existed in the world.

My brother and his family spent a couple years living around these parts back in the late 2010s and connected me with one of their friends, Fabio, who still lives here in Recife. The plan was to meet Fabio in Old Recife at around 12:30 pm for lunch and do some exploring. I had a couple hours to kill before heading out on the bus to go meet Fabio so I went to the lovely pousada reception to capture some of those wifi laser beams that are scarce around these parts and do a bit of work. I had so many good intentions for work on this trip and I've managed to pull together about three hours of work thus far. Damn you Brazil for being so interesting! Anyway, now was my chance to start preparing my poster presentation for the Canadian Public Health Association conference in Toronto in June, the week after I get home. Anderson, the front desk guy, struck up a conversation with me in the kind of common way people do when you tell them you're from Canada: "I must say, I loooove Celine Dion....and Alanis Morissette". Then he began introducing me to youtube videos of famous Brazilian pop stars and crooners which led to videos of fevro and forro, two very traditional regionally beloved types of music/dancing. Most excellent. And work was once again put aside for something much, much more interesting.

So then off to the bus and to Old Recife! Recife is like the ginger-haired step child of the three cities I've visited thus far in that it seems to be slightly more neglected, with crumbling infrastructure in parts, litter, sewage smells, crappy wifi, and poorly labelled streets. It's just...different. It is evident that poverty is a serious issue here. And with this kind of context, coupled with a ton of tourism, you get the pesky tourist things like shady-eyed men approaching you and mumbling quietly under their breath in Portuguese "taxi? taxi?" or "tour guide? tour guide?". I picked up my first Brazilian "pest" this morning in Olinda waiting for the bus to Recife. He was fine at first, selling water to people on the buses passing by at the stop so I figured he had "a job". He began talking with me and I repeatedly told him that I didn't understand him, that I didn't speak Portuguese... he kept repeating himself, citing all the tourist places to see in Recife and I was like: "yes yes, I'm going there". I also think he was trying to say something along the lines of "I could show you these places and not for any money, just for conversation". I had told him I was meeting a friend in Old Recife and I had indicated that I totally knew how to get where I needed to go on the really direct bus route right to the location I needed to get to but he took it upon himself to designate himself my guide. He unnecessarily helped me find the right bus and then proceeded to get on the bus with me. He suddenly became my shadow. I was like: aw man, now he's gonna follow me all the way to where I need to be and he's gonna demand money and it's just going to be an overall annoying experience. I became cold and silent with him on the bus. Then he started talking to me again in Portuguese and all I could muster in Portuguese was, in a stern voice: "Nao Dineiro" and "Nao bem" and "eu nao entiendo" and "eu nao falo Portuguese" while pointing at him (basically pointing and saying- "no good!" and "I can't even understand what you're saying!"). He finally got off a few stops later and loudly and angrily said "Tchau" to me, causing quite a stir on the bus. It felt as if everyone around me, myself included, sighed a sigh of relief and the other riders kindly smiled and shook their heads in agreement/pity with me. I imagine the only reason I did not experience this in Rio is because of the Olympics and the city's preparatory "housekeeping". **Disclaimer** I hate telling these kinds of stories in a way that sounds like I'm not cognisant of the fact that my shadow-dude was also just trying to bring home the bacon. However I still hold that it's a bit sketchy to pester AND follow a poor little delicate flower of a lady who is obviously travelling alone.

With my tail shaken, I found my way ON MY OWN VERY EASILY to Old Recife, a really lovely part of the city that my guide books tells me is one of the very few places worth sight seeing around in Recife (poor, poor neglected step child).

Old Recife

Old Recife

Marco zero-- the point from which all measurements in the city are made (maybe even in the state?)

View of water from Old Recife

I met up with my brother's friend, Fabio, his wife Vanessa, and their incredibly beautiful 11-year old niece Taina (Full name: Winitaina Gomez de Souza; Birthday: quinze de maio...as she informed me and made me practice saying repeatedly) at the Caixa Cultural in Old Recife, an old bank-cum-puppet museum:

Caixa Cultural (furthest big building to the right) at Marco Zero

Now, I'm not particularly a puppet enthusiast, in fact I think puppets are kinda strange, but these puppets were magnificent. This is a traditional art form from Pernambuco state, this region of Brazil. I have been told that Carnavale here, in Olinda and Recife, is one of the most unique and interesting ones in the country, which I assume is probably somewhat due to their amazing tradition of puppet mastery coupled with the flamboyant sounds of Pernambuco's beloved Frevo and Forro. Frevo dancing, an old slave dance, involves holding little mini umbrellas, and is reminiscent of dancing on hot coals. Forro seems to me to be basically accordion and drums. I have yet to see, in-person, either of these. 

Fabio and his family took me for an amazing seafood lunch overlooking the water and to Boa Viagem (the beach in Recife and the only other place the guidebooks recommend checking out in Recife), famous for the sharks who took up residence there a few years back due to their habitat being destroyed by the building of Port Suape, a massive shipping port created in the late 70s.

Fabio, Vanessa, and Winitaina Gomez de Souza (born 15 de Maio)

Fabio, Vanessa, and Winitaina Gomez de Souza (born 15 de Maio)

Ugh...yikes.

And then I was treated to a drive home to Olinda and a stop at the Sé on the way:

The Sé, overlooking Olinda and, in the very far off distance, the skyline of Recife

Apparently the Sé is where a Dutch dude (with the last name 'Sé') stood once, before the cities were built, and said out loud to himself: "yes, this would be a nice place to build a city". How very colonial of you, sir. So they built the city and a cathedral up there and named it after this Dutch guy.

I arrived back to my pousada at around 5:30 pm and was absolutely exhausted. I mustered up the strength to go for calabrese pizza and do some reading. Just as I returned home, the frevo music down the street was being struck up again. I was torn. I was exhausted yet feeling obliged/curious about the music but decided to say, "fuck it" and instead let the far off  cançãos of the tubas and trombones again, lull me to sleep.