I had brought both my travel pillow and my eyemask, both of which garnered me some snickers from the group, but I awoke from a sound two-hour sleep refreshed and invigorated as the bus pulled in to Praia.
As we meandered through the pretty but packed village toward the beach, Fabian observed that it had become far more touristy since he had last been there, when the pathways, now lined with flashy restaurants and shops, hadn't even been paved. The popularity of the beaches provided an explanation. So many umbrellas dotted the shores that it took us 20 minutes to find a spot secluded enough for our tastes.
We had just laid down our towels and gotten comfortable when Fabian discovered a fresh eel carcass just above our spot. I freaked out; I am terrified of eels. But the group convinced me to go into the water anyway. As we waded out, we discovered the reason for the sparse population on our part of the beach: rocks honeycombed across the first 50 meters off the shore. We didn't mind, however, as the spaces in between formed lovely little bathing pools in which to sit and enjoy the day.
The rocks also created the illusion that the surfers, making their way out and beyond to the swells, were walking on water.
After baking in the pools for a bit, I returned to shore and rented an umbrella to give my pink skin a respite from the sun. I laid under it chatting to Maya, a lovely Brazilian girl from the interior of the country. It turned out that Max, a self-proclaimed German hippie, was surfing her and Sue's couch. I was surprised to hear that she and Sue lived together, as I had had the impression that they had only just met at a CS event. I began to wonder if perhaps they had a romantic connection, despite the fact that I had seen no verbal or physical affection pass between them. I asked how long they had known each other, and she replied, "About two years, but we've been married for a year." I literally shrieked, "You're married?!" We laughed heartily as she agreed that people often couldn't tell.
Later, after another swim or two, Max entertained the group with some acrobatics and juggling.
When I had first seen the clubs in his bag, I had expected some basic skills, but he wielded them impressively, catching them behind his back and turning flips between tosses. I can tell you that MY high school gym teachers certainly didn't have such skills, let alone six-pack abs, long shaggy hair, or a dreadlock (worn to symbolize non-conformism), which leads me to believe that the German school system, which hired Max, is far cooler than the American.
The day passed quicker than any of us wished, and soon we realized that we needed to start back if we wanted to see the turtle sanctuary nearby before we left. Maya, Sue and Max elected to wander the beach closer to town while Fabian, Eliza and I marveled at the mammoth, ancient creatures in their pools.
Each of the turtles at the refuge had been rescued from fishing accidents or some such mishap, and as much as I appreciated seeing them up close and knowing that the tourist donations that allow access to the park provide much of the funding for such rescues, I mourned their caged state. Such elegant creatures-- some stretching to almost 4 feet long-- deserve a whole ocean to swim, not just glorified swimming pools.
The sanctuary featured not only the turtles themselves but exhibits on their anatomy and history, including a display of massive shells, which looked like medieval shields.
And of course, some kitschy props provided for silly photo ops. Personally, I love a good tacky tourist shot now and then!
Toward the exit, a tiny pool acted as a nursery for a large number of recently-hached little ones who would later be released into the seas. I have no qualms about admitting that I found them ridiculously cute.
Finally, one last viewing pool featured sting rays and nurse sharks, each of whom poked their heads and fins above water within inches of my face, as I leaned over it, but I decided to enjoy the experience rather than try to photograph it.
When we had had our fill of turtle education, we met with the others in front of the charming church on the beach.
The sun had begun its descent into the horizon, and we realized that we only had fifteen minutes before the last bus back to Salvador.
We hauled ass down the main strip and arrived on the street just as the bus pulled up. I have only two solid memories of bus ride home, both afforded by the traffic jam that made us an hour and a half late: the incredible sunset and the desperate need to find the restroom upon arrival, having foolishly imbibed two large bottles of water on the journey.
Sue, Maya and Max headed home, while Eliza, Fabian and I cabbed it back to our hostel where the two of us snuck Eliza in for a shower, so that she wouldn't have to go all the way back to her place before dinner. We walked up the street in search of the same place we had had carne del sol with the capoeira guys the previous night, but sadly, it was closed. Instead, we had an enjoyable meal at another restaurant, whose outdoor section literally stood in the middle of the street. Then, content but exhausted, I chose to make it an early night, while Fabian and Eliza went out.
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Location:Salvador de Bahia, Brazil
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