Chapada Diamantina : Diamond Plateau

This definitely is in close competition for the most stunningly beautiful place I have ever been.  I know I said Florianópolis was like New Mexico but I was mistaken; here is really like New Mexico, but rushing with water everywhere.  Images here


I am staying in the super small village of Vale do Capão.  The three other English speaking folks I have met in the last two weeks are from Australia, Switzerland, and Canada.  I'm learning more Portañol here as there are many travelers from the rest of S. America, and I've been learning to understand Portuguese through French and Italian accents as well.  The tiny mercados and restaurants  are only open in the mornings and evenings.  I am spending many hours silent and alone with my body and the rivers and waterfalls and sun filled dirt roads, hiking the endless trails near my rented quartinho, writing and singing, practicing yoga, or sometimes just sitting still.   Here I have found my main occupation is athletic training.  I take amazing capoeira classes morning and evening on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and days in between are for longer yoga sessions, going running when the sun is low, and African dance class.  I feel healthy, alive, and thriving, flexing the capacity of my body as animal, machine, spirit in action.


I feel so much transmutation in myself these days.  I had no idea how much Brasil would open me.  I had no idea how much more of me there was to discover.  For one, I can't beleive how long I have wanted to train in dance and capoeira and I didn't even know it.  I am working through some seriously huge old barriers about not wanting to be a beginner, not wanting to potentially be bad at something at first.  I have been seeing more clearly this part of myself that wants immediate mastery.  And, of course I don't get to take a vacation from my shadow sides.  It is so funny to see this part of me that hates being wrong, hates being told what to do, getting activated sometimes in classes, where of course I am there to be told what to do!


Ok, off to feed the sugar monster now.  Actually, bolo de aipim is not that sugary, but I do have a sugar monster happening right now.  Aipim is the food I have been waiting to remember my whole life.  There are 5 different kinds of cakes they make here with manioca, all without flour or milk or much sugar and all amazing.  Bolo de caramá, bolo de aipim, bolinho de estudante, bolo de tapioca, bolo de I don't remember the name of the last one.


If I mispelled anything here don't hold it against me; the spell check thinks I should be writing in Português so technically everything I'm writing is gibberish!

Imagens ~ Florianópolis, Salvador, Chapada Diamantina

the magical waterfall at Ceu do Patriarca where I swam everyday

a view of the north end of the island and the sea from the community

Largo do Pelorinho

awesome street art everywhere, abandoned and crumbling casas next to beautiful and functional ones

a street in tiny and quaint Lençois

new friend!

Poço Diabo

note the red agua!!! colored by excessive amounts of iron

more at Diabo..

clear blue at Pratinha

colors of my day

land so similar to the Gila, with red earth

vista grande a Pai Inaçio

BAHIA

Well, I am so long overdue with writing!  I actually have been writing so much the last few weeks, but obviously not here.  My time in Ceu do Patriarca was very internal.  I had many deep processes within myself which felt challenging in many moments, but overall has left me feeling that my time in Florianópolis has been a gestation; a preparation for the rest of my time in Brasil.  Now I am in the middle of my time here;  I have 7 more weeks, which feels too short...  three months is too short.

During my three weeks at the community I met many really wonderful folks, got completely used to the accent in the South, swam at the waterfall often, practiced Portuguese and in particular had some mysteries of the language explained to me my lovely host Aline and her family.  I learned some priceless Brasilian expressions such as "My deodorant isn't working anymore", "Go take a shower!", which is the equivalent of "Get lost!", and my all-time favorite, "My butt is eating my underwear".  I also applied myself to the art of finger slapping (not snapping, ask for a demonstration later) used with emphatic exclamations of all sorts, and the finger wag plus head shake used with various types of "no". 

Ceu do Patriarca is unique in that there is much alliance with other spiritual traditions from around the world.  I participated in two sweat lodges, very similar in style to the Lakota lodges I've attended in New Mexico.  I attended several Daime works and a Yawanawa ayahuasca ceremony as well, which was so powerful that I am still just beginning to find words for my experience.  Incredibly deep, healing, and opening.  The Yawanawa are an indigenous people from the area of the Amazon that is now Acre, in the deep interior of Brasil, who in the last 10 years or so, have been doing really cool work to preserve their culture and territory in the modern world.  One thing I can say right now specifically about my experience in Yawanawa ceremony is that my ability to speak and understand Portuguese nearly doubled afterwards.  I could literally feel my brain forming new synapses.  I feel more compelled than ever to continue working with visionary plant medicines within the container of traditional ceremonies.  On the other hand, my experiences in the Daime works actually felt depleting in the moment.  I have learned several wonderful new songs from that tradition though, and I feel like I will continue to understand how being there is contributing to my life.

And now I am in Bahia.  It's practically a different country here.  In the South there is much German ancestry, mostly from people who fled Europe during WWII.  It's very white, and as a general rule the food is bland, often processed, and I seriously missed my green veggies there.  In just two days in Bahia I have eaten the most delicious, fresh and healthy food I've ever had, and they use chiles here too! 

I arrived by plane in Salvador and I am staying in the Pelorinho, the old city, which is a city within the city that is to be climbed rather than walked, the cobblestone is so old and uneven, the streets so narrow and steep and winding.  (see here for They Don't Care About Us, all shots with the band are down the street from me, other shots are in Rio..and note MJ's Olodum t-shirt, celebrating one of the Orixas of Candomble)  It is wildly beautiful and vibrant, and also largely impoverished.  This was the beginning of the "New World" in Brasil.  Actually, before there was Brasil, there was Bahia.  This is where the Portuguese first landed, and where the mixing of African, Indigenous, and European cultures started the culture of Brasil.  This is my first experience being a tourist in Brasil, since I am staying at a lovely hostel with mostly gringos.  Here I am including a terrific and accurate description of the Pelo written by one of the owners of the hostel:

 A Brief History of Pelourinho

First a little background of Salvador's European/African history. Around 1510, Portuguese settlers arived in the area around what is now Rio Vermelho, and by 1540 a government was formed. By 1550 settlers began importing slaves from Africa. Salvador was the first capital of Brazil and remained so until 1763. The city of Salvador de Bahia, (São Salvador da Baía de Todos os Santos, in English: "Holy Savior of All Saints' Bay") was divided by the upper city and the lower city. The upper city, which is where we are located, was the religeous and administrative area where most residents made their homes. The lower city, exactly as it is used today, was the financial district with ports and markets. The market São Joaquim is one of the oldest markets in Brazil and although it smells like it, it's also a facinating and worth the ensuing vegetarianism that often follows a trip there. The vast majority of Salvadors population (80%) today has African roots from Salvadors devastating significance as the main port of entry for the slave trade. I've heard it said from many people who have traveled both continents that Salvador feels more like Africa than it does South America. Within this context is the picturesque colonial gem called the Pelourinho, which literally means "whipping post", which was where slaves were tied and tortured publicly. Pretty heavy. Especially considering the cobblestone streets are framed by some of the most beautiful churches in the New World. Pelourinho was once the wealthiest area of the city when Salvador was the country's capitol, and the wealthiest of the heavy-weights (sugar barons, slave traders, etc...) made their mansons here until an outbreak of cholera evacuated the wealthy and they abandonded their beautiful mansions. Anyone who was willing to live in a toxic atmosphere moved in. The few visitors the Pelourinho received were seeking drugs or prostitutes, as it was cosidered too dangerous; desperate people lived short lives of suffering and despair. Although some capoeira academies were functioning in those days (Academy of Mestre Bimba was in the Pelourinho) history doesn't paint a very pretty picture of daily life. It's easy to imagine what sort of place the Pelourinho was as parts of it are still unchanged (please see our Pelourinho Survival Guide). In 1985 UNESCO declared Pelourinho a World Heritage site due to it's collection of colonial architecture trumping any other city in the world. In 1991, the renovations began. Millions of dollars have been dumped into cleaning up the Pelourinho, making it now the 3rd most visited site in all of Brazil. Modern day Pelo is a magical and thrilling place. Kids can be seen rushing out of a noisy capoeira school, drum troops fill the streets with random parades for no special occasion, and at night theres no other part of the city that can even come close to the live music (usually free of charge). African culture and traditions that were oppressed for years are celebrated here in tireless homage. There are countless dance and capoeira schools, bars and restaurants, and more holidays than anyone can keep up with, and honestly, what better way to recover it's sad and tumultuous past than to live in a constant state of celebration?

My first evening in the Pelo was a Tuesday, and every week Tuesday nights are full of people in the streets dancing to live music.  Plenty of locals and lots of travellers too.  Being around other travellers here I've come to realize just how much language I have under my belt now.  Some folks are travelling with zero Portuguese, which amazes me.  But I guess they are also following the tourist routes.  I love not being a tourist, and I aim to continue that here.  

Today I go to Mercado São Joaqim, meet up with a local Bahiana friend, and go watch some capeiora at a very famous school, Mestre Bimba's, the father of Regional style.  I think this whole film may be shot in Salvador.. lots of scenes in the Pelo, and his school is where the floor is marked with colored circles. 

Not sure how long I will stay here... depends how long the vibrance can outweigh ongoing stares and comments from men on the streets (when I am not walking with a man), and the always present energy that it is not very safe here, for example, in walking alone after dark, or passing certain streets off the main squares.  This is the first place I have ever been where the thing to do is not wear pockets and not carry a bag of any kind; money is stashed in bra, waistpack or shoe only. 

Next, I will journey inland to the Sertão, Brasil's drylands.  For a whole week before I left Floripa my heart was throbbing for Bahia.  I love it here already, and  I am deep in the city!  I am sure that soon, the backlands will steal my heart completely.

Much love and blessings, M

Paradise with Mosquitoes

This is the tropical version of New Mexico.  Mountains, blue skies, vistas, streams, plants; the energy here is very similar, except it is wet wet wet.   My hair loves the humidity.  This is the end of the rainy season right now.   Two days ago I felt so weird.  My host went on and on about something I only realized later was barometric pressure.  Yes, either high or low barometric pressure, whatever it is before it rains here, makes me feel like a zombie.  Does barometric pressure even exist in Santa Fe? 

I've learned recently, through the process of being asked many times where I am from, that I am from New Mexico.   Not Ohio where I grew up or Oregon where I called home for 7 years, but New Mexico.  This struck me as strange at first considering I've actually spent the least amount of time there of all the places I have lived.   But, I think it is home because I have directly experienced the earth more there than in any other place.  It's hard not to.  There aren't suburbs or strip malls.  (Well, maybe in Albuquerque, but I'm never there.)  The earth is everywhere.  The sky is unbridled too.  Of course my home is a place untamed and expansive like my own heart.  It doesn't matter that I have lived there as a permanent resident only one year.  It is home, for now, even when I am unmoored from all my responsibilities and creations there.  I wonder if it will continue to be home.

Now I am home in the Santo Daime community and ecovillage that is Ceu do Patriarca, nestled in rolling green hills above the sea on the north end of Florianopolis.  (see http://www.acepsj.org.br/ and translate with Google Translate)  It is so beautiful here.  On weekdays there is stellar lunch served in a communal kitchen, where the mosquitoes eat me for lunch.  This is the rain forest of Mata Atlântica.
It's hard to go running in the rain forest, at least in this rain forest.  There are only steep hills, and no flat ground.  Hopefully this will serve to strengthen my knees, not break them.

Yesterday I found out why I can barely understand anyone since I've arrived.  I thought I was just getting used to the high energies and intense itchiness.  No, folks in the south don't use você and está, but a variety of shortened pronouns ta and tu and ti.  Just when I thought I was advancing!  Oh well.  Here, I sound like a textbook when I speak. 

Today is the first day I have not taken a nap in Brasil.  It seems to be consensus that sleeping and showering are not once-a-day activities.  Totally my style. 

Travelling is stretching my ability to adapt and be comfortable.  The comfortability I have here is not the familiarity of my things and my preferences, but an active surrender.  Cake for lunch?  No problem.  Your house is actually a 12x12 room with a broken toilet?  No problem.  You want to put more sugar in my coffee? (yes, my coffee!)  No problem.  Television blaring super loud all day from the next room?  No problem.  Absolutely zero soap available without a lengthy list of chemicals?  No problem.  (Actually, this last one is a problem.  I should have brought so much more soap)  I should point out, these are not here in Ceu do Patriarca, except the issue of soap.  That is everywhere I have been so far.

I am told it is illegal to make soap or other body products for sale without the inclusion of pharmaceuticals.  There are no midwives here.  It is illegal to home school.  There is a lot of white flour and white sugar.  I find myself wanting to personally give Brasil everything she doesn't have: knowledge of women's health, plant medicines, holistic birth, soap. 

Maybe it is different in the North of Brasil.  I am told that it is urban here.  Here, away from the tourist areas, where a solitary sheep greets you at the bottom of the road, and there are just hand built houses and dirt roads and mountains and plants.  I've seen people at the edge of "town" out walking their cow in the morning.  I think the distinction of urban comes with the purchase of groceries from the store. 

The light is gold after the rain.  I wash the dishes for my hosts.  I walk to the house of the woman who works with plants to talk about what we know that the other of us may not.  Nothing to do here but experience this huge new world.  And if you look at the map, I'm on the tiniest island of this enormous country, and just right here feels enormous itself.  My new 9 year old sweetheart comes to show me and spray me the "perfume" he's made, I think from soap and rainwater.  Sneezing now.  Yes, soap and water; I just got the tutorial :)