Terminei de ler “Budapeste” de Chico Buarque
Mil desculpas aos meus amigos que não falam (ou lêem) Português, mas depois de ler este livro tão maravilhoso no momento chave, o único jeito de honrá-lo é com um blog em Português.
Meu primeiro livro de Buarque foi uma sugestão do meu (sexy) professor de Português, que falou que era fácil de ler e que tinha um filme sobre o livro também. Buarque, como um artista popular Brasileiro, realmente tem talento demais — ele é compositor, revolucionário, cantor, produtor, escritor... de tudo. Até agora, adorei tudo o que eu conheço dele (suas letras de musica são geniais!), tem olhos verdes que chegam até a minha alma e tem um sotaque carioca liiiindo. Então, naturalmente, achei boa idéia de ler seu último livro, e terceiro romance.
*Eu gostei do livro por que é simples de ler, tem uma prosa encantadora, uma historia interessante, trata de um homem estrangeiro adotando uma língua diferente da sua, todas as mulheres são musas e tem um final surpresa.
O protagonista Jose Costa tem uma voz forte, mas passiva, poeticamente Brasileira (Carioca) e um caráter similar ao meu. A forma com que ele descreve as coisas é honesta e cândida. O historia é única, com um escritor-fantasma Carioca que viaja, converte-se em escritor fantasma em húngaro. Ele tem uma vida no Rio e uma vida em Budapeste que no final unem-se em um livro surpresa J
Eu gostei do livro pela voz poética de Buarque, a qual é narrada por Costa. Apesar de sempre separar o narrador do autor, neste livro é simplesmente impossível fazer isso. Realmente não á distinção entre Chico, o autor do livro neste mundo, e Jose Costa, o presumido autor de Budapeste. Onde começa Jose e onde termina Chico? Audazmente, Chico consegue expressar seu amor pelas palavras no livro, usando Jose como substituto. Explorando os elementos literários usados em Budapeste, chego a compará-lo com o livro do James Joyce ‘Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man’. [[como meu livro preferido. Uma grande honra, hehe]] A narração, as circunstâncias, a sedução, os reflexos (espelhos) de frases/situações e ironias do livro são cativadoras e agregam muitas dimensões. Isso faz com que a leitura dos dois livros sejam uma experiência profunda.
Também adorei as narrativas das impressões que Jose Costa tem como um estrangeiro e amante. Ele é um estrangeiro e amante em casa, um estrangeiro e amante na rua, um estrangeiro e amante nos livros, um estrangeiro e amante com a língua e suas palavras.
Assim como eu, seu nome muda, de Jose Costa to ZsoZe Kosta, sua vida passada parece não existir, empenha-se em (e consegue) aprender na língua (tropeçando varias vezes), tenta compreender a cidade (fazendo sua própria interpretação), e se apaixona por uma mulher do lugar (do Rio e de Budapeste).
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Jose Costa, casado com Vanda, uma linda tele-jornalista, mora no Rio de Janeiro e trabalha como um escritor fantasma. Às vezes aceitando sua vida na sombra, às vezes expressando sua frustração em não ter êxito próprio, ele fica paralisado em um conflito interno, eterno. Num dia é convidado pra um ‘encontro internacional de escritores anônimos’ onde ele descobre um mundo gris de anonimato e frustração compartilhada onde consegue ser compreendido/se sente estranhamente cômodo.
Voltando da reunião, seu vôo tem uma parada imprevista em Budapeste e ele resolve ficar na cidade amarela por um tempo. Aqui ele é bem-recebido por um casal perigosamente amigável, pelo Danúbio e por uma fascinação pela língua (magiar) húngara. Num dia na livraria ele conhece Kristina Fülemüle, Kriska, que se converte em sua tutora de (magiar) húngaro e depois em sua amante e que o batiza de Zsozé Kosta. (ficante, hehehe)
Depois de um tempo em Budapeste, ele volta para o Rio, só pra saber que um livro que ele escreveu sobre suas aventuras com centenas de mulheres foi publicado por um rapaz alemão com quem ele trabalhava, que seu filho Joaquinzinho esta ainda maior e que Vanda trabalha em São Paulo.
‘O Ginografo’ é um êxito no Brasil. Trata de uma autobiografia de Kaspar Krabbe, que recém-chegado da Alemanha no Brasil, escreve no corpo das mulheres que encontra e assim vai aprendendo português. Mesmo sua mulher (Vanda) já leu o livro mais de 30 vezes, e esta fascinada com ou autor Alemão, o que enfurece Jose.
Durante uma festa de Ano Novo, ele não consegue controlar sua ira e fala pra sua mulher que foi ele o autor do livro. No mesmo momento ele se arrepende e escapa pra a orla do mar, faz um pedido impossível a Iemanjá e resolve voltar pra Budapeste.Agora em Budapeste, abandonado à sua sorte por Vanda, ele procura por Kriska ate desmaiar na rua. Inconsciente no chão e embaixo de chuva, Kirska o encontra e o coloca dentro de casa. Kosta acorda, doente e ferido, mas feliz de estar com ela outra vez. Depois de um tempo, ele melhora e consegue emprego no Clube das Artes como subalterno e gravador. Gravando e observando os artistas que freqüentam o Clube, com ajuda de Kriska e da inspiração gerada pela sua nova língua, Kosta resolve começar a escrever de novo, desta vez em húngaro.
Voltando a sua tradição de escritor fantasma, publica um livro com o nome do Kocsis Ferenc, autor famoso em Budapeste. “ Titkos Háramsoros Versszakok” ou “Tercetos Secretos”—um livro do poemas escrito completamente em húngaro — também é um êxito e é bem recebido pelo público exceto por Kriska, o que enfurece Zsoze.
Enquanto saboreava seu segundo êxito como fantasma, Kosta averigua que o reunião anual dos escritores fantasmas é em Budapeste. Ele vai e chega a delatar que ou autor do ‘Terceiros Segredos’ é ele, sem se importar com o fato de que Kocsis Ferenc estava na mesma reunião.
Essa mesma noite, Kosta é deportado de volta a Brasil.
Sim poder ir a casa de sua mulher ou seu escritório, fica num hotel procurando alguma saída. Depois de uns dias, finalmente ele recebe uma chamada inesperada que o leva de volta pra Budapeste. Surpreendido no aeroporto por câmeras e seguidores, Jose Costa é reconhecido como o autor de um novo livro chamado ‘Budapeste’. Igualmente confuso e orgulhoso, ele aceita o êxito/atenção e sua humilhação pelo mesmo homem que ele humilhou. O livro autobiográfico é uma narração da sua experiência na cidade, sua relação com Kriska e outros detalhes impossíveis, mas certos, que ele não tem como explicar.
No final, ele lê o livro para Kriska, lendo pela primeira vez seu terceiro êxito.
*My reflections on the book are missing, but those I would much rather discuss IF you read the book, hehe*
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Eu adorei os seguintes passagens (ainda faltam mais) e no livro me inspirou pra traduzi-los só pra explorar meu próprio entendimento e pra demonstrar quanto realmente, e infelizmente, é perdido na tradução:
Para algum imigrante, o sotaque pode ser uma desforra, um modo de maltratar a língua que o constrange. Da língua que não estima, ele mastigara as palavras bastantes ao seu oficio e ao dia-a-dia, sempre as mesmas palavras, nem uma a mais. E mesmo essas, haverá de esquecer no fim da vida, para voltar ao vocabulário da infância. Assim como se esquece o nome de pessoas próximas, quando a memória começa a perder água, como uma piscina se esvazia aos poucos, como se esquece o dia de ontem e se retém as lembranças mais profundas.
Mas para quem adotou uma nova língua, como uma mãe que se selecionasse, para quem procurou e amou todas as suas palavras, a persistência de um sotaque era um castigo injusto.
Para algunos inmigrantes, el acento puede ser una clase de venganza, una forma de abusar de la lengua que lo paraliza (limita). Si no estiman la lengua, ellos solo masticarán suficientes palabras para del trabajo y de día-a-día, siempre las mismas palabras, ni una más. Y de estas mismas, se olvidaran al final de la vida, para volver al vocabulario de la infancia. Así como se olvidan los nombres de personas cercanas, cuando la memoria empieza a perder agua, como una piscina se vacía lentamente, como se olvida el día de ayer y solo se retienen los más profundos recuerdos.
Pero para quien adoptó una nueva lengua, como una madre que se escogiera/seleccionara, a quien buscó y amó todas sus palabras, la persistencia de un acento era un castigo injusto.
For some immigrants, an accent could be revenge, a way of abusing the language that constrains them. Language that is does not esteemed, they will chew enough words for the office and for day-to-day use, always the same words, not one more. And these (same) ones will be forgotten by the end of life, to return to the vocabulary of childhood. Just like one forgets the name of close friends, when the memory begins to lose water, as a pool empties slowly, the same way one forgets yesterday and retains the deepest memories.
But for those who adopted a new language, like a mother that were chosen/selected, who sought and loved all the words, the persistence of an accent was an unjust punishment.
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Porque minha mão seria sempre a minha mão, quem escrevia por outros eram como luvas minhas, da mesma forma que o ator se transveste em mil personagens, para poder ser mil vezes ele mesmo.
Porque mi mano siempre sería mi mano, que al escribir por otros eran como mis guantes, al igual que el actor se disfraza en mil personajes para poder ser si mismo mil veces.
Because my hand would always be my hand, which when writing for others would be like my gloves, like the actor disguised in a thousand characters, only to be himself a thousand times.
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Eu bicava palavras aqui e ali de línguas que conhecera, um pouco assim como um recém-solteiro sai a revisitar antigas namoradas.
Yo recitaba palabras aquí e allá de lenguas que conocía, un poco así como un recién-soltero sale a revisitar antiguas enamoradas.
I uttered words here and there of languages I knew, a bit like a returning-bachelor goes out to revisits old girlfriends.
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devia ser proibido debochar de quem se aventura em língua estrangeira
debería de ser prohibido criticar/ridiculizar a quien se aventura en lengua extranjera
it should be prohibited to criticize/ridicule anyone that ventures in a foreign tongue
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e a mulher amada, cujo leite eu já sorvera, me fez beber da água com que havia lavado sua blusa.
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Cobri o texto com as mãos e fui removendo os dedos a cada milímetro, fui abrindo as palavras letra a letra como jogador de pôquer filando cartas, e eram precisamente as palavras que eu esperava. Então tentei as palavras mais inesperadas, neologismos, arcaísmos, um puta que o pariu sem mais nem menos, metáforas geniais que me ocorriam de improviso, e o que mais eu concebesse já se achava ali impresso sob minhas mãos. Era aflitivo, era como ter um interlocutor que não parasse de tirar palavras da minha boca, era uma agonia. Era ter um plagiário que me antecedesse, ter um espião dentro do crânio, um vazamento na imaginação.
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Minhas impressiones depois de ler o livro:
foi a dar a Budapeste graças a um pouso imprevisto.
terminou aquele livro. ficou com o zil na cabeça. riu á beça. se transverte em mil personagens, para poder ser mil vezes ela mesma. é morena. odeia no homem glabro. recitava um poema conhecido da platéia. quer olhar o Danúbio. nunca tenha visto corpo tão branco em sua vida. nem sequer sabe dizer não em húngaro. escreveu em sua pele. é o mapa de uma pessoa. acendeu um cigarro de Fecske e emudeceu. viszontlátásra!
virava as folhas com sofreguidão. tem veneta de pronunciar a palavra zsívem. tem a cara respingada de lama. saltou em Újpest-Városkapu. egy... kettö... három... négy. precisa ajustar o ouvido a novo idioma, negando todos os outros. falsifica sua própria escrita. tem uma oferenda inútil na mão. quer conhecer semântica, semiologia, e a hermenêutica. vai pra casa de Senhora Fülemüle.
bebeu Tokaj no divã. não acredita. fala magiar castiço. ouviu seis línguas diferentes. rebobinava a última fita. feddhetetlen. esquece o dia de ontem. escrevia como se andasse em sua casa. pediu algum papel com urgência. esbarrou nuns brutamontes ao redor da mesa. escreveu com acento estrangeiro. preferiu humilhá-lo com a poesia. esta chegando quase. não tem que falar numa palavra. expirou todo ar que tinha. Não é autora do livro.
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I work 6-hour shifts 8-14hrs or 14-20hrs split between me and another girl. She’s a local and seems pretty nice. She has been working with Francisco for 2 years, has a child and likes living on the island because as she told me “sempre tenho trabalho”. Morning shifts suck cos I have to wake up early and serve breakfast, late shifts suck cos I miss out on the whole afternoon.
I get café-de-manha but am on my own for the other meals unless we have a full house and the hostel plans dinners. I have my own room and am free to do as I please with my own time. With a 10-minute walk to the nearest beach and 30-minute walk to a different paradise, I have waaaaaayyyy too much time on my hands. Unfortunately, there is no internet here. Only a few hotels have it and the handful of Internet-Café’s around the island aren’t always reliable. On top of that… I HATE paying by the minute.
I am loving and hating the island.
I am loooooooving the breathtaking views and being able to call this paradise home (for about a month). The weather has been nice for the most part and every day I get to chill out at the beach of my choice. Working at the hostel is simple, easy and quiet.
I am fairly disappointed with the touristy environment of it all... no culture, just shops. I am beginning to resent tourists for their destruction of everything beautiful by over-consumption.
I think I will only be here for about a month. I am working on an escape route... either working some more in Salvador in another awesome hostel (more details to come) or volunteering at a farm near Chapada Diamantina. (Since Lee told me about this place and I read about it I think I fell inlove)
I think it is challenging to be here without anything to do and not much to look forward to but the beaches. (why am I complaining, right?) I have time to relax, time to spend alone and do as I please, read, write and chill… yet I stress about not having anything to do? I need to wind down, enjoy the simple and quiet lifestyle… but this is proving to be harder than I thought.
I have been reading (a lot), catching up on old blogs, listening to new music and walking. Coming from a somewhat hectic lifestyle, this is unsettling… to be so… free.
There are four beaches here, with a 30-minute walk, you are able to see all of them. I read and swim at the First Beach, I tan and pray at the Fourth Beach since it is practically deserted. Second and Third beaches are always busy, full of tourists and sellers and have the most waves (by waves I mean like 1-foot waves). There are two main streets with shops, restaurants and pousadas/hotels that lead to the beaches and there are three other roads through the hills with the houses, restaurants and shops for the locals.
Although there are some boat trips to visit other parts of the island, it is still possible to reach them by foot, bike or car… I intend to do so in the near future.
Although, I am definitely enjoying the peace, quiet and enlightening solitude I do miss having friends. Having just arrived and depending on travelers to be source of entertainment and company is an unpredictable and limited social life. The cool locals that I’ve met are older and are busy working. I know that transitions take some time and I have to really settle before I can have those wonderful stable relationships, but I am impatient so I am bored and lonely in paradise.
Right now I am considering my month in Morro do Sao Paulo a time-out, a pause, an understatement, a short introduction in order to prepare for the next chapter, in order to clear my head and wake up to the reality that is my new life. We are crossing this bridge now. The adventure is beginning. Thanks Ivan.
I hope to take pictures soon.
Booking my ticket = BOOOOOOSTA
Although using a ticket search engine like KAYAK.com, Expedia, etc is usually a good idea, it doesn't always work out the way that you want it. Decolar.com is the best search engine in Brazil, so I used to book my flight. I found cheap tickets and with good schedules so in this sense it was convenient and efficient.
Problem #1: They charge you a booking fee of R$30.
Problem #2: Doesn't accept foreign credit cards
Any airfare is also subjected to 'imposto do viajem' of R$20, but this is standard in all the different airlines. Fucking Brazilian government taxes.
Anyway, I booked my ticket but this was canceled, I was not informed until 24hrs before my flight left and that there was nothing I could do since they had turned down my foreign credit card. Fucking Brazil.
*PAUSE FOR A 5 HOUR FREAK OUT*
Anyway, in the end after calling a handful of airlines, I found a similar fare but with a shitty schedule and bought it with my friend's card. In some ways things always work out: I didn’t over-pay, and arrived only one day later. Thank you Renata.
Packing was painful: Leaving the wonderful house that had been mine for so long, choosing what to take, leave, throw away, and finding forgotten plans/letters/penas. It took me a couple days.
I regret not having a last dinner at the YH, since I would’ve had time
Left to the airport accompanied by Lonneke and Mariana, both of who left with tears in their eyes, and made me
realize how lucky I am to have met them. These are two friends that I can truly guarantee I will keep forever.
There are two options to get to Salvador from Sao Paulo:
There is a 30-hour bus or 2-hr flights from São Paulo. There are also buses to nearby cities such as Porto Seguro and Valença, these work less frequently and cost almost as much as a flight but depending on where in the country you are and the intentions of your travels, buses can offer a different perspective on the visited areas.
Once in Salvador, it is fairly easy to get around, from the airport there are buses and unlimited amount if taxis. Unfortunately the airport is in the middle of nowhere, with a 20-30 minute drive into the coastal areas, you are bound to pay R$40-80 to get out of there. Taking a night flight is usually a bad idea in Brazil since everything closes early (Fucking Brazil) and things are very far apart but for us broke people; there sometimes is no other choice so I slept in the airport with three German guys I met on the flight.
From the coast, there are 20-minute flights from Salvador to the island; there are 2-hr fast boats or a combination of bus+boat for a total of 5hrs. What will change is the price, which in some cases is 4 times as much and depending on the season the price and frequency also increases.
All in all, it was a pretty simple trip. It is just a matter of staying alert and knowing the name of the destination and there was no getting lost. BEWARE of the overly helpful Brazilians that will charge you for helping you with bags or will offer you expensive/unnecessary services. Since I was broke and not in a rush, I opted for the long, cheap and colorful way described below…
Metro: R$2.65 (30min)
Airport Express: R$3.80 (20min)
SAO to SSA: R$220 (2hr)
Bus to coast: R$3.00 (1.5hr)
Ferry boat to Itaparica (Mar Grande): R$4.50 (30min)
Small bus to Valença: R$20 (2.5hr)
Boat to Morro: R$6.70 (1.5hr)
Traveling through land, air and water = priceless
My biggest challenge was getting along with the amount of luggage I had with me. With one bag I think I would have been fine, more comfortable, would have wandered into the market/center of the city etc… but of course I needed 3 bags to bring all my stuff… my next purchase will be a badass backpack.
Salvador’s coast was beyond colorful and busy. From the airport to the port we drove all along the shoreline, endless miles of blue sea to the left, a thriving, breathing city to the right and palm trees in between ;)
Surrounded by regular morning traffic, genuine market smells, soft delicious tropical heat, following a map I made it to Mercado Modelo and took the ferryboat. It was a loud, explosive excitement that burned inside my heart when I saw the coast of Salvador become smaller and smaller behind me. Smelling the salty ocean air as the boat rocked up and down, I was finally coming to terms with my new life.
Arriving at Mar Grande, starving, exhausted and preparing myself for 4 more hours of travel, I caught a bus with the first group of tourists. To our fault, we were somewhat tricked because we didn’t know to ask the right questions:
1) Do you go straight to Valença? Right answer: YES
2) Do you make stops? Right answer: NO. Or only 1 for bathroom/snack/gas
3) Do you switch buses? Right answer: NO
Needles to say, my bus stopped at every bus stop where there was people along the high way, took some detours through small towns to drop off/pick up other people and we had to switch buses half way through. AAAAARGH! Since I half the time, I was asleep it was not a huge problem, but if I had been in any other mindset, I would have been SO pissed. At least now I know to ask the right questions.
PS. At the entrance of Morro there is R$10 tourist tax. TOURIST TAX?!?!?! FUUUUUUUUUUCKING BRAZIL
One of the most annoying things to me is being approached by sellers at all angles, at all times… I understand their plight and the culture, but I still fucking hate it. Selling anything from boat rides to earrings, these guys are persistent and have lots of experience telling you what you want to hear and selling you what you don’t need… Advertising/Marketing Majors I call them… brain so smart you could swear they went to college =P
After struggling with my bags out the boat, up the hill and down the sandy street, past all the annoying sellers and after the praça, I reach the hostel. I meet my boss, leave my bags in the room, I talk to him for a couple hours and pass the fuck out.
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My boss, Francisco, is yet another example of how the poor help the poor.
In reality, a 16-year old boy, really is lonelier than I am, he is broker than I am and he has more baggage than I do. Why do needy people help other needy people?
My boss is a Carioca. Went to engineering school but had to drop out to work and help out his family. His mother passed away when he was very young and due to monetary problems and clashing personalities, he is not close to the rest of his family. He said that his father, sister and other relatives are more like distant friends.
He had been working at a hostel in Buzios for a while before coming to Salvador. Once there, he got into the business of starting a hostel in Barra and then 2 in Morro do Sao Paulo. I didn't have a chance to see the other hostel but the two here are somewhat nice.
The one that I am working at is called Fonta do Imperador (check out Lonely Planet) but is now working under the name 'Hostel do Morro' which according to Francisco is a better online name. It is all green (same green as the pousada in Jericoacoara) and has a weird structure (pool on the second floor, wtf?). As he admits, there are nicer and cheaper places to stay at on the island but still he does receive steady business thanks to Lonely Planet. The location I think is shitty since it is after the main plaza, after passing numerous other places, up at the end of a hidden hallway, next to a cool rasta hostel that looks very nice and it is away from the beach. It is indeed in the middle of everything else though, and since you can walk anywhere it is not such a bad deal. I am not sure what it says in the book but I now see how blindly we trust these travel guides, which will bring backpackers all the way into our reception thanks to the step-by-step description on how to get there ;)
My boss the wanderer, has been here since last December, at the time he was also working at another hostel but due to some financial problems he had to leave than one and now has been exclusively here since March. He lives in a room on the upstairs with his two cats (one black&white, one calico) and he has the same amount of things that you would have in a one-story house.
He spends most time emailing potential costumers, old friends and downloading music. The music he showed me was from a club in Ibiza that is all instrumental. He loves it, listens to it and rates them (hehehehe). Many have 2-3 stars, few have 4 and even fewer have 5 stars... his scheme, I do not know, but I do know that it takes a lot of patience to do that type of shit.
Otherwise, he rides his bike around the island, plays the frigo-ball with his crazy friends and drinks cheap vodka/smokes weed in his room. He doesn’t like working in the island anymore and is planning to move in December to São Thomé das Letras in Minas Gerais.
The first night I was here he told me about the times he loved and lost, the times he worked incessantly and the times he just chilled out at the beach or jungle, he told me about the times where he did acid, drank entire bottles of whiskey, wine and vodka, drove his motorcycle and about the awful hard year he's had lately. He separated from the woman he loved for 14 years, lost some money due to increasing competition on the island, was in a motorcycle accident and got denge… twice. (Normally, I would laugh at this… but it was pretty serious).
He mostly keeps to himself and sometimes goes on rants about things he doesn’t like and sometimes he doesn’t talk to me at all...
He has two cats: Zara (white, black and brown Calico) and Manoel (black and white). Zara is Manoel’s mom, she had 6 others but he gave them away. She is missing one eye, walks timidly around the hostel, poops in the plants and has two other cats always chasing her. Manuel is a stupid scared cat that never leaves Francisco’s room and has the saddest yellow eyes.
I know that he must be pretty lonely, I know that he is really frustrated with the way that things work on the island and I know that he wishes there was a way out. And I also know that for some reason people feel the need/feel at ease to tell meeee things, to trust meeee with their story. What is it about me that allows you to open up?? What is it about me that invites you to let down you hair and talk all night?? I am not complaining (by any means) but it happens often enough that I have to wonder…
The following are the basic descriptions of my trip to Nordeste. All the information was inteded to help/guide a friend who was thinking of doing the same trip. My reflections and feelings on the trip are missing. ps. pictures are missing because internet here sucks. They will be added later.
We traveled from GRU to FOR, on TAM, direct: about $230.
When you arrive, pay a fixed rate for the taxi at the airport when you give them an address (this way you won’t get the gringo tour/price) it should be R$38 to this hostel which is close to the beaches and the Cultural Center.
Not much to do in Fortaleza, don’t stay too long (a day or two max)
(Make reservations ahead of time if possible, specially if you go in high season)
We went with all the cheapest places, all the breakfasts are the same always but the accommodations are what matter. We would’ve killed for air-conditioning.
There are some cool beaches, a large market and some nice places to take pictures. It is Northern Brazil, after all, and it is rich in history. Since I got there a day later, I didn’t get to see much besides the pictures that Lonneke took.
Then we transferred to Jericocoara (5-7 hours)/ 3 buses per day/ $18-25
You must go to get tickets for the bus at Velasur or Beach Point bus companies; make sure you know where they pick you up.
The ride was uneventful, we stopped for lunch at a small oasis for about half-hour, then we arrived at the transfer point: a tiny town center, where we got on a big truck to take us to Jeri. (They will explain at the bus agency)
The bus will stop in the middle of the town and you will be bombarded with hostel offers, they will give you a ride to the place even. It’s a good idea to walk around the whole town in order to find what you like. Many of them won’t be online anyway so no use in booking ahead of time and since there are no maps of Jeri (no google maps!!! Can you believe it?!?!) it is better to talk and bargain. You can see the whole town in a few minutes so its best not to accept the first offer you get.
We stayed at Pousada Sol Nascente which was in the center, across from the Havaiana Store.
Spend at least 3-5 days in Jericoacoara! It is amazing…
Outside in the town center and at most hostels there are people offering buggy tours and they have maps of where you go (finally! A map!). Prices vary and there are about 6 different tours… about R$240 per car/day so divide it with other travelers… Go to Pedra Furada, the Lagoons (Paraiso! It is greeeeeaaaaat), and the Sand Dunes for sure, don’t go to the cabalho marino tour.
Sun sets perfectly in the beach closest to Jeri so make sure you see at least one amazing sunset… they have capoeira shows (so cool) and horse back riding on the dunes (not for me but you might like it)
Night life was pretty much dead when we were there since it was low-season, so we mostly hung out at the beach and the hostel… made our own food and caipirinhas.
About 2 days before you want to leave book a transfer to Lencois Maranhenses. There are buses so ask about it but in rainy season this might be a little more complicated because everything is flooded… still ask for a 4X4 that can take you.
The buses take about a day and a half, one takes you half way, you spend the night at the only hostel in the area and then you take another one to your final destination.
Since we were on a tight schedule we paid R$1000 for a 4x4 to take us on a 8-10 drive. Very tough terrain, very long and stressful and uncomfortable (to say the least) but the experience of a lifetime, make sure you know you are choosing lots of pain to save some time. Also, THERE ARE NO ROADS! This is why a 4x4 is necessary, as we drove along beaches and sand dunes for hours not passing a single house or person. SOMETIMES I STILL WONDER HOW WE DIDN’T DIE.
You will arrive in Barreirinhas (a small pointless city) and can visit the park from there. There are 2 cooperative offices in town, your driver should know where and if you ask them to find you a hostel, they will help you. They will also offer tours to the park… Big Lençois is by car and Little Lençois is by boat… both are amazing!!!!
You only need 3-4 days here max. This is the absolutely greatest place, if you can’t do any of the things described above, go here!!!!!
The lagoons weren’t completely full since rainy season was just starting but the place and the views and the grandeour of the sandunes was still magestic. I wish you the best of trips since you will be there at the right time… There is also not much night life here. There are some barracks by the river and it is a nice place to relax, but not much else to do.
There are 2 buses that leave daily at 9am and 430pm to Sao Luiz, which is the closes airport, R$15 I think. Not much to see in Sao Luiz… nice for pictures and lots of French history J but the beaches we went to were pretty dirty L
We stayed at Pousada Internacional - Rua da Estrella, 175. Which was a decent place to stay and next door to it there is a Hotel that wasn’t so bad but this depends on season… the center was within walking distance and so was the bus terminal and beach. There is an old almost abandoned island good for pictures but not much else to see on the other side of the bridge.
Because we had already booked our flights we stayed at Sao Luiz for 3 days. That was way too much, low season and in a poor, shitty city… no fun.
Take a bus at the main Rodoviaria to the airport.
SLZ to GRU (might be able to find to CGH) for $209,83
Good luck and have a GREAT trip…
This trip can be summed up for me into one word: TRANSITIONS
I finished ‘estorvo’ by Chico Buarque…
I am soooooooo angry! Nothing makes me more upset than reading a bad book, or a book that I do not like in the end…
And in the end… nothing… nothing at all…
This is the same feeling I had after reading “The Stranger” by Camus… fucking hated it. Stupid pointless non-climatic simple circular book… arghhhh
- - - - -
Thinking of the title, I explore the many things that it can mean, within and outside the context of the book, and find myself lost. There is no dedication, but a quote before the beginning starting with estorvo… followed by 20 synonyms and ending with estorvo, in what seems to be the first circular thought presented in the book. After finishing it, I still can’t find any explicit/implicit obstacles or estorvos.
Protagonist: a good-for nothing, failed husband, distant brother and unsuccessful writer lives a very lonesome life after his divorce. We meet his rich sister who always gives him money, his pretty ex-wife who he still cares for but wants nothing to do with him, his senile and distant mother who he calls although knowing fully well that she never will and through some memories, we hear of some of his old/odd friends and the odd characters he meets at his old fazenda. Always with simple yet pertinent descriptions, he describes the people at the best of his ability—sometimes by their physical features, their personality and/or their behavior in an endearing way.
As he is running away from the building he bumps into a man that seems a bit odd but they resolve to walk along together. He ends up at the mall where his wife works, there is apparent assault on her store but he flees that scene just to find out that his former walking partner is picked up by a hospital van. He encounters a friend of his sister who cleans him up and takes him to his sister’s house.
WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is not a romance!
He always talks about wanting to travel and wanting to change… but at the same time admits that he doesn’t mind “being suspended in time” and he assumes an almost irreversible apathy for himself, his situation and his future.
This motif is furthered by the fact that he keeps ending up at the same places… always at the will of someone else or by the development of circumstances he has no part in… apathy, circularity, passivity… did not like the book at all.
Things I liked:
“She wasn’t smiling, instead she twisted her lips in the same way that a resentful woman who is planning to execute the bastard that betrayed her would do. She was plotting the vengeance, she probably remembered what happened that night and was getting ready to turn me in to the cops, or humiliate me in front of my sister so that she might be satisfied. That’s what she’s going to do, enter into the house, explain she found me in the room, with the jewels after looking for them in the closet, she will yell out accusations I will be unable to deny and then I will be caught. Or she will ask me to show her the jewels, she will again try to seduce me with her drugs, her riches and lifestyle and after I agree, she will leave me.”
“She probably heard the phone but was so enthused in the magazine article she was reading that she didn’t answer, probably thought that if it was important the phone would ring again, and after it only rang 3 times, she probably knew it was me and would have liked to call me back but not knowing where, she would think it was pointless. She would then regret in the back of her mind that she wasn’t close to her son but would go back to her magazine and forget about it.”
Quotes I liked:
“E ele me conhece o suficiente para saber que eu poderia ate receber um estranho, mas nunca abriria a porta para alguém que se fato quisesse entrar.”
“fica á vontade”
“Sinto que, ao cruzar a cancela, não estarei entrando em um algum lugar, mas saindo de todos os outros”
“mas é de mulher feita o pequeno corpo que caminha, que escolhe casa passo com um critério de corpo, e que portanto caminha mais com orgulho que com direção”
“o sono chega como um barco pelas costas, e para partir e necessário estar desatento, pois se você olhar o barco, perde a viagem, cai em seco, tombe donde você esta”
“mas um homem sem compromisso, com uma mala na mão, esta comprometido com o destino da mala”
“no dia em que ele fez esse gesto eu não achei nada, e na certa não tinha nada que achar. Mas hoje, alem do gesto, descubro um brilho em seus olhos que me incomoda. O brilho deve ser reflexo do horizonte que ele olhava, mas na minha lembrança não entra o horizonte, e os olhos brilham por brilhar… torno a me lembrar meu amigo olhando o horizonte, seus cabelos molhados negros como nunca, e ele agora se penteia com mas vagar que antes. Provavelmente se sentindo lembrado, tira longo proveito da situação. Traga um cigarro, que na lembrança anterior nem existia, e fica se deixando olhar, como um ator de perfil…pelo rabo do olho da lembrança consigo vejo todo.”
“Ainda esta claro no sitio, mas o ar que respiro e noturno. Nas arvores que vejo a luz do dia, o movimento das folhas já se revezou, e é um movimento noturno; como são noturnos certos cheiros e ruídos; como ha bichos noturnos e flores que não se abrem de dia, como ha pensamentos tão claros que só a noite se percebem.”
“prossigo a viagem olhando para baixo, como quem procura uma religião”
“Lembro que nos fins da tarde eu passava a noite sozinho ali em cima, tendo aprendido que a noite e superior ao dia. E que quando amanhece, não e o dia que nasce no horizonte, e a noite que se recolhe no fundo do vale.”
There are no names in the whole book. We meet his sister, her husband, the child, the thin friend, the twins, the blonde, the little girl with the curly hair, the old man, his ex-wife, etc. I didn’t notice this at first, but now it does seem interesting. In one way or another, it distances the main character from his own story or it distances the reader even more from the story, in a true Brazilian fashion. What I mean is that in my experience with Brazilians, they are somewhat cautious of their territory and always keep at a safe distance socially. They are not overly eager to make friends and when they do, they are not overly eager to allow such friends into the circle. In this sense, the circle includes the names of the people close to the protagonist.
