Brazil Stop 3: RECIFE/OLINDA

(Dear Gang, I'm back in the blogosphere and determined to finish my travelogue from Brazil. It's now or never... so here we go!)

I'm not going to lie. It was hard to leave my little piece of secluded jungle paradise in the Amazon. It was magical and peaceful and let me exhale to my heart's content. However, it was time to move on and explore what was lying beyond the next mountain...

I caught the 7 am boat out of the Ariu Towers to Manaus. This 2.5 hour boat ride down the Rio Negro was, well, wonderful. Now this might come as a surprise to some of you because, as I've mentioned before, I do not appreciate boats as much as I could. I have nothing against them per say, but I am most definitely not going to seek out a boat as my preferred form of leisure. I'll swim, I'll dive, I'll walk along the shore for hours, but for crying out loud, don't stick me on a dang boat.... for the love.
Maybe it was all the fresh, unpolluted, oxygenated air I had been breathing in for the past few days, but I felt alive and oh, so willing to set up a hammock on the deck and be rocked back and forth by gentle breezes. Just me. My backpack. My hammock. Suddenly, the world had boiled down to the simple basics. And the boat no longer seemed to disrupt my sense of peace and well-being.

Arriving back in Manaus, I had a solid four hours to kill at the ho-dunk airport. I did just fine though. Rejuvenated by the hammock, I had no problem shopping and eating my way though until check-in.

Two layovers later, at 10pm that night, I landed in the eastern coastal city of Recife. And instead of being welcomed by the natural beauty of mountainous terrain, dense foliage, or wild monkeys, I was welcomed by a big, dirty city.

Complete with high-rises, shopping malls, and of course....the infamous "pack-em-in-like- sardines" beaches. Yup, this was the people's city, not a tourist's city.

But hey, come on folks.... I was still excited. This too, would be an adventure. An experience. A little slice of Brazilian culture and an authentic taste of the north east.

From the safety of my balcony, around 2 am that same night, I soaked up these views--but set to muted shades of blue, black, and gray; quieter, calmer, breezier, and completely breathtaking.

Indeed, a good view from a good balcony (or roof, or mountain) can transport me to another place almost instantaneously. This night was no exception.

I woke up at 9am the next morning. I was totally free to do whatever the heck I wanted. No tours. No guides. No schedules. No idea what to expect, see, or do. Or HOW to do it. Yes my friends....I was in my element once again.

After a bit of reading up and inquiring at the front desk, I decided to catch a bus to check out the older section of the city--Recife Antiga. However, being the capital of the north east, Recife was a much larger and much more confusing place than I had anticipated.

My idea of simply catching a bus and knowing exactly where and when to get off....was, well,... shot to pieces. I could never seem to get the clear directions I wanted, and usually ended up talking to an array of people--pedestrians, passengers, bus drivers, Jehovah's Witnesses, you name it. But let's be honest, that's the way I like it.

I smiled a lot. It's my secret, and it works every time to get ya where you need to go.

Eventually, I decided to hop off near this bridge and walk to the other side.

What I loved about Recife were the old-style, colonial buildings. Usually worn-down and chock-full of character.

It was a side of Brazil that I had yet to see. I mosied my way down into the old quarters, through narrow streets lined with colorful buildings, warm sun, and plenty of people.

It was Sunday, and I arrived in the knick of time for the street fair.

I poked in and out of booths and admired the delicate crafts and pieces of artwork and clothing on display.

I then decided to do as the locals. Grab a seat at a local cafe, order a Coke, and watch the world slowly pass me by. Loud music blared through cheap speakers; small children scurried around, high on excitement; granola-style hippies sold me their latest crafts, high on the ganja; and couples strolled arm-in-arm, surrounding me everywhere I looked.

Local drumming groups like this one are popular in the country, and they did not disappoint.

Perhaps one of the greatest pleasures of the day came as I observed the local dress and grooming standards of Recife. This also did not disappoint. Frankly, I felt over dressed...strictly in the sense of having a disproportionate skin-to-clothing-ratio.

Now this folks, is a concept that I hope will soon catch on back home. The backless shirt with exposed sports-bra is what I'd call a "Class-A" act...and a hard one to follow I might add.

So is the extreme-off-the-shoulder look. I could see myself doing this one.

I decided I had better do something truly "cultural," so I waited in line to get into the "first formal Synagogue in all Americas."

It was educational. But I'll be the first to admit--I wasn't looking for educational at that point. I paid my respects, snapped a picture from the inside, and got the heck outta there.

It was dark by 6pm so I decided to head back to camp. I found a bus stop, waited a good 45 minutes, and hoped that by some miracle a bus would show up to take me somewhere remotely close to my hotel. It did, but because it was night and I had no idea where I was, I got off at the wrong stop. I tracked down a young couple who were heading in my general direction, struck up a conversation, and quickly became their "friend." They saved me, helping bring me to the safety of "RECIFE SHOPPING-" a ginormous piece of mall-paradise located 10 minutes from my hotel. It was an ode to the western world and globalization as we know it. Complete with 100 different shoes stores and an Applebee's restaurant, what more could you want?

I grabbed a hot pair of red, strappy, platform sandals, then dinner, and then a second dinner at a McDonald's (to supplement my nutritional intake and "do as the locals"). I carried my bag full of goodies home to eat in my room and listened to music on my beloved balcony. What a day..

I was picked up bright and early the next morning and driven to the charming little city of Olinda, located just a few miles outside of Recife.

It was like stepping back into Portugal, with a Brazilian twist; Cobble-stone streets, red-tiled roofs, old churches, and brightly-painted houses dazzled my senses.

Olinda derived its name from its founder, who, after climbing on top of this hill, looked out onto the view below and exclaimed, " O, Linda!" aka, "How Beautiful!" And indeed it was.

The Recife skyline is visible in the background.

It was at this church that I met a pair of Mormon missionaries. Bless their little hearts.

And for a split-second, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief --that today, I wasn't tracting apartment buildings, but aimlessly and freely wandering ...alone... ,

passing by eccentrically painted houses and life-sized puppets (used in street processions during Carnival),

free to stop and smell the roses, poke in and out of craft stores, and take in everything wonderful in my immediate vicinity--on my own time.

My stop in Olinda was short, but definitely sweet to the taste. That afternoon, I took off in a car an hour down the coast to my next destination--the quaint beach-side village of Porto-de-Galinhas.....