THE OTHER BRAZIL
It’s been a long time since Brazil entered the list of places where one can go kitesurfing.
But today I want to talk about the other Brazil, this Brazil that, if you went only for kitesurfing, you will not be able to discover. Me, the pioneer by nature, was not satisfied with just going to Brazil and kitesurfing.
There was more, much more than that. I went once, then I came back, and a third time and then I stayed to live there 6 years. For this reason, in this writing I want to speak from another angle, from the human angle.
There are going to be five little stories that are not really important. Just a reminder that when we go on a kitesurfing trip to some distant place, and if what interests you is kitesurfing, still, you should not let other things, escape your attention.
Live, learn, contrast. Although it seemed that you don’t have much time for anything other than kitesurfing, at least you should try it. We only live once, you shouldn’t forget.
Neither in Copacabana beach nor in Ipanema, there is usually wind, as shown on the map of Rio de Janeiro. The purple arrows indicate the most usual wind directions, this is why it will be understood why there is usually no wind on those two beaches.
The most usual wind direction there is the one that coincides in coming from the area behind all the buildings, almost all of them 20 stories high and more, which make impossible for any “clean” wind to reach the beach.
Altough there’s a chance especially when the weather gets warmer, mostly at noon and on the outside, that is, not applying to Copacabana or Ipanema but on Barra de Tijuca beach that it will be created a sort ot thermal and being able to blow 10 to 12 knots side onshore from the left, but enough to have a session, especially if like nowadays, almost everubody if riding on a surf board and with the sole intention of riding the waves, which in Barra are much bigger than in the other city beaches.
I am also uploading here on this post, a link about what was my last trip to Brazil, this time, many years after, back in 2013. Starting in Rio, at Barra de Tijuca beach, which is where the wind blows.
But don’t click on the link yet please, better keep reading here under until the end of the report, when you have finished reading everything, then you can check about our last trip.
Sadly, there’s no wind at the famous beaches in Rio, but what there is, is football, soccer with a volleyball-type net in between, this… and wave surfing even though the waves are not the best in the world, but at the end of Ipanema beach, in Leblon to be more precisely, it is where waves enter with better orientation than in the majority of beaches in the beaches of the city of Rio de Janeiro.
On the other beaches towards North and on Flamengo and Botafogo beaches, and then, much further, on the beach of San Corrado, on the Southern part of Rio, soccer is also played in the sand. But this last beach, San Corrado, is in front of the largest favela in Rio, so visiting it is completely ruled out because of how dangerous the whole area is.
So, with a ball they play with the feet, with their knees, with their shoulders and with their chest, and they play at a very high level, they are great players,all of them, man and women, because they practice it from a very young age, mostly playing in couples although the normal thing is that there are 3 or 4 players on each side of the net.
But this report is not going to be about soccer neither, neither wind, nor kitesurfing.
What I write down here is bound to remember that saying: man does not live olny from bread.
Neither bread… nor wind … There are other things in life and these lines have that purpose, to help us remember it.
Actually, all this writing I am going to divide it into several parts. Each one is going to be a different story, and they come from memories that come to my mind, sometimes, mostly around midnight, when I’ve stop working, answering e-mails from people who want to take lessons of kitesurfing, done new uploads of other reports on the blog, the small repairs of kitesurfing equipment and all that, because… after all, what are we, but … slaves of our memory?
Ok, here is the first of this stories:
Due to the detail of the pavement, in the video that we will see a little later, it can be seen that it must be the promenade beach front of Copacabana, which is where Tom Jobim had his home and where the musician Jaques Morelembaum together with his wife, Paula and the pianist Ryuichi chose to record their LP Morelembaum2-Sakamoto: Casa
But let’s continue… I, really, was more from Ipanema beach than from Copacabana. To be exact, I lived on the beach front of Leblón, which is that part of the beach where, further south, Ipanema changes its name, and there, on Borges de Medeiros street, where the canal known as “El Jardin de Alla” separates the two pieces of the same beach, that’s where I lived. On the corner with Ataulfo de Paiva street. Who could Ataulfo be? …I don’t know, I never did find out…
I also remember, despite the certain distance until the sand and the 14-story height, that is where my apartment was, the rumble of the shoreline wave when it broke, was like a clock that did not stop, marking relentlessly the passing of the hours of the night.
In the morning, at 11 o’clock, every day, I was already waiting on the sidewalk for the “executive bus” to pass, picking up those who could afford to pay the extra money that the bus ticket costed, that air conditioned vehicle which would take me to Barra de Tijuca beach, which is where the kitesurfing scene was.
In the second beach bar, at the beginning of Barra de Tijuca, is where the kitesurfing action took place and where Marcelo Cunha, a renowned local kiter, had his school and it was there that, at that time, back then in 1998-99, you could see the projected 16.4 meter area Wipika kites, because back then people were not shy about using a big size kite.
Now, everyone uses kites of a maximum size of 12 meters, and it is not that there is more wind now than before. It’s because everyone is riding a surfboard and they just want to ride the waves, so big size kites and twin-tip kitesurf boards just don’t interest them anymore.
But let’s get back to our stories, what life was back then. In fact, as at that time it was the beginning of internet, not like now, when, whatever you are looking for, you can always find it on Google, if you wanted to discover the chords of a bossa nova song you had to listen to the record or cassette and find the chords yourself on the guitar.
This, or buy some chords book, which weren’t easy to find either -nor even find where to buy the book of chords- and get those chords in writing, but for that you also needed to have the songs first, to be able to listen them througly in order to guess which were the chords … and that’s where things became even more complicated.
So you had to walk streets and more streets looking for music stores where they had old records or cassettes of bossa nova, a music that had its heyday back in the 1960s, and in that Rio to which I had returned for the second time, this time in the year 2000, you had to walk the streets until yo’d be able to find one of this stores, more likely a second-hand music store, and there, look for -and find if you were lucky- the music you wanted, to end up trying it later on my guitar.
Ryuichi al piano y Paula y Jacques … the song’s name: “O grande amor”.
In this first story, what I want is to remember a specific night, in which I had decided to go out for a walk and go see some live music.
This, in principle, should have taken place in what was then known as: Bar Vinicius, a bar with live bossanova music, of which I was a frequent customer, by the way, not far from where I lived… but this day not, so, so I decided to try a new place.
I took a taxi and gave the taxi driver the address of the music venue that I had chosen reading in the pages of the Rio newspaper, but after a while and despite the fact that it was my first time in Rio, I understood that the taxi driver was trying to trick me and taking me in the opposite direction from where we were supposed to go.
I pointed it out to him, but it was no use, the taxi driver insisted on taking me to other place instead to the adress I gave him, although I supposed it was not going to be a kidnapping, without doubt it was going to be a large sum of money at the end of the ride , if I let him continue with his plan.
Therefore, in an act of courage, taking advantage of the fact that the taxi had to stop at a red light, opened the door of the taxi and get out quickly, without stopping or looking back again.
I can imagine the anger and frustration of the taxi driver, but in an instant, I had already crossed Viera Souto Avenue, which is the one that runs parallel to Ipanema beach, and in a moment I had mixed with the people who were walking on the sidewalk, and with it, become untraceable so that the cheater taxi driver couldn’t continue with his plans.
… to realize that, a few meters from where I was, it was the Laura Alvim Culture House, a place that I had not even heard of then but, given the circumstances, perhaps it was the most advisable thing, to disappear from the scene .
And, as it turned out, at that moment it seems that there was a live music concert there, already started, and a box office where you could buy a couple of tickets… so: why not?
I entered a room half full of people, a large space, but not too large, and it was almost completely dark and the place had tables and chairs all around, while in the center, illuminated by a soft light, there was a figure that with a guitar, was interpreting music. I sat down in the first vacant place I found and…
Wonderful! … What that man was playing was… how to express it? It seemed like that story of the Pied Piper of Hameln, that old story of someone who, playing the flute, made the rats follow him, delighted with what they were listening…
To cut a long story short, that was one of those evenings that are never forgotten in life. What wonderful music!, what a masterful interpretation! What a voice! … what sweetness in the songs he played, in the chords, in the arpeggios and what an unparalleled guitar!
The artist’s name was Vitor Ramil, he played his own music and was originally from the southern part of Brazil, from Porto Alegre, where his inhabitants are known as: Gauchos.
A link to one of the songs of that magical night:
It was not until the bus arrived that I was not sure at all… when I was already sitting inside the bus… neither. Sweating like a horse after a race, squashed between the people that filled the bus and not even sure if I was heading in the right direction, I couldn’t help but remember Arlindo, the taxi driver.
Arlindo! Indeed, an unreliable character… Brazilian taxi drivers are like that, and the worst part of the story is that the fact of being a taxi driver and going after the dollar as if his life depended on it, did not prevent him from forgetting about me and left me waiting like an abandoned dog, in front of the entrance of my apartment, waiting more than an hour for that taxi that will never come…
And that is easy to guess, because the man was busy with other things and had forgotten about me. So much talking to convince me and take me to see the training of a samba group… to finally get over me…
Because I had to walk streets and streets and even change buses twice until I finally got in the right direction, with the fear that I had that any criminal would rob me at gunpoint anywhere, which, in fact, it could be possible, although nothing happened to me.
I calculate that I traveled at least 25 or 30 km from where I lived, on the beach of Leblón, to the neighborhood of Olaria, headquarters of the Cacique de Ramos bloco.
I finally arrived at Rua Uranus, in the middle of the favela!
Ok, everything there looked like favelas to me, in fact, from where I had taken the first bus, leaving what is known as the South zone, that is, the first line of the beach, everything seemed like a favela, which, sometimes it wasn’t, a favela, not at all, but… the ignorance of the city that I had at that time, due to the big city that Rio is, together with the news that were so frequently in the newspapers about crime and terrible things that happened … had its effect on my European imagination.
You should see how big city Rio is! And that had only been the first part of the trip … to see how I was going to solve the trip back to my home, since that was necessarily going to happen at night and very late… mmm… things didn’t look good
Actually, the whole idea of going there and seeing the rehearsal of what would later become the parade of the Samba school at the “Sambodromo” had been Arlindo’s own.
He was the one who messed me up: I had to go see the bloco, I had to attend a rehearsal… I had to attend a “samba de roda” and see the pagode group live: Fundo de Quintal and their incredible pagoda/samba
Well, I was there, June 17, 2001, a day that coincided with I don’t know what claim of the population against the city council for wanting to increase the price of the bus and that it would redound to the detriment of the entire people who travel by bus in Rio and also from the members of the bloco -or samba school- that is, from all those who have given their lives and their reason for living to the arrival of the Carnival and also, of course? how else could be? to what happens over the weekend with Flamengo or Botafogo or whatever their football team was.
In the end, as I said before…nothing bad happened to me. I joined the party, as one more, I enjoyed the pagode, -pagode is a style of music-, although outside of Brazil only Samba is known. So … I had 3 caipirinhas that left me a little more affected than I expected and … Arlindo the taxi driver, in the end, answered his cell phone and came to pick me up before someone robbed me or did something bad to me , some of those thousands of Indians, and… I’m saying thousands, because the bloco was something to be seen, a tremendous number of people, and that was just a rehearsal.
By the time they parade in the Carnival, they can mobilize up to half a million people. Here I upload a link so you understand what I’m talking about. Cacique of Ramos … and the group Fundo do Quintal.
and… here is a detail of the performance of the Pagode group …. because it is about the music and the dance, about that and about the rehearsals for the Carnival parade… that moment when O Bira, name of the man who plays the pandeiro, and who was at the same time the president of the bloco, when he stops in the middle of the stage and starts dancing with that samba step…. What a rhythm! … can there be a rhythm, a more spectacular cadence? … qui-ri-qui-tum qui-ri-qui-ta! … qui-ri-qui-tum qui-ri-qui-ta! ….
and a photo 100 meters from my street, already on the boulevard just where Leblón began, at sunset with the “Dos Irmaos” -the silhouette of the two mountains in the background-
It must have been December 22th or 23th , year 2004, when that Belgian guy and his wife arrived at the hotel, she was Brazilian and pregnant, it was not long before their baby should born. After a while, the Belgian guy became interested in the kitesurfing course after seeing the beach action and the kite parking that had sneaked into the piece of beach in front of the hotel.
All this, despite the fact that I had tried to mark, without success on my part that space with a roll of plastic tape with red and white stripes that, from coconut tree to coconut tree and in the direction hotel-beach shore, because I wanted to leave that space so that the hotel guests could cross without having to jump over the kites and the mess of lines and bars that were scattered everywhere around.
Nothing, vain pretense, that was a jungle of kites, kite boards and lines, to the point that when I wanted to teach a lesson I had to go 200 meters from in front of the school, where there was an area of sand free of obstacles .
The next day we started lessons and during breaks, which religiously took place at the beach bar of the Golfinho hotel, which is where I had my kitesurfing school, he told me what the main object of his vacation in Fortaleza was.
The Belgian guy had a company in Luxembourg and was dedicated to the subject of plastering false ceilings and throughout the year he was asking among his clients to obtain donations of money to do a good deed when he arrived in Brazil for Christmas.
It is already known that in the country where the man lived -Luxembourg- there are few poor people. So, our hero, proselytizing about his cause among his clients, was getting voluntary financial contributions to… once at Christmas and in Brazil, buy all the toys he was capable of and so, dressed as Santa Claus, on December 25th, go to the farthest reaches of the interior of the state of Ceará and bring a little hope and joy to those poor children.
Since I thought it was a really great idea and since on the 25th, I had proposed myself not to work, I went with him to see what was going on.
How could I imagine the way these people lived!, even though I had been in the country for five years and I thought I had seen it all… but no, although the poverty of the 621 favelas in Fortaleza is something truly shocking., the poverty of the people who lived in the country side was… something else.
Those people who had been born there and had stayed there, all their lives, subsisting in what could really be called “in the middle of nowhere” with almost nothing to eat, escaped human comprehension, a curious contrast when compared, for example, with the calçadao -or sidewalk of the avenue promenade- that runs along the beach of Fortaleza and the “skyline” of skyscrapers of designs so advanced that they are not even seen in Europe.
I went back to the hotel realizing how lucky I was, we are, I mean, and feeling a great pity for all those disinherited from life and great respect for that Belgian guy who, without anyone having asked him, and with a figure that I believe recall was around 14,000 euros, he was in charge, during the following 6 or 7 days, together with the logistical help of an NGO in the area and several trucks, to carry the toys, as well as many sacks of rice, feijao (black beans), flour and basic food items so that those poor people could have Christmas parties, and when I say “poor” I know that no one can imagine what I am referring to.
If there is a heaven for good people when they die, at least a bit of that heaven, it must be waiting for that Belgian guy.
And to celebrate that remembering that taking care of and educate children is always a good idea because one day they will be older and if we have treated and educated well, this will always have a positive effect on society, this is why I write this lines.
And … nothing better than a video of Zeca Pagodinho where … He also says: There is no ugliest thing than the one who is complaining … even though his belly is full.
Although it may seem strange, the first time I heard about the island of Itaparica was not when I was already in Brazil, not yet, it was “brewing a mate” that is, drinking an infusion of yerba mate, as they say in Argentina and it was in Lanzarote island.
Who was going to tell me at that time, back in 1987, in Lanzarote, that it would be on the beaches of the island of Itaparica, where I would finally lose my kitesurfing virginity, many years later.
The coast of Salvador de Bahia and its everlasting waves
The point is that even the very name of the island I had already forgotten when I first arrived to San Salvador de Bahía. Of course, the kitesurfing equipment I had with me, my new RRD board, which was the most advanced that could be aspired to at that time and my recently acquired Wipikas 11.8 and 6.4 -projected size- of 16 and 11.5 meters.
Trying to learn kitesurfing I had already done it, in Ibiza, in Los Narejos in Murcia and even in Gran Canaria, but, for one reason or another, in addition to a few surprises due to the enormous power of a kite and some horrible drags, little progress had been achieved
And… is because, between the limited equipment aavailable at that time, my first kite, the Mosquito Windtools with 2 kite lines, which I still have, and an Airush unidirectional type board, one of the first that the brand released, with that equipment it was not easy to learn, but most likely to have an accident that was much easier to happen.
And, especially to mention the dangerous legacy of having always done windsurfing with a wind of 40 and more knots, typical of the beaches of Vargas, Pozo and Arinaga in Gran Canaria and the consequent indulgent vision of what one thought was going to be learning kitesurfing, the truth is when I seriously tried it, was not an easy task to be achieved.
And, all told… also I hadn’t had much luck either in chosing the places where I had tried to learn. I want to say that, neither sea and wind conditions, nor chosen beach, had not been the most appropriate for “success to occur”.
In the photo above, you can see capoeira practitioners in their hometown, the Pelourinho neighborhood, and a photo of the Church of Nosso Senhor do Bomfin, all of which are hallmarks of the city of Salvador de Bahia.
One thing I must admit now from a temporary distance: if in those days I had had the 18 or 21 meter kites with which I sail now, things would have been very different. Why? … well, because in all the beaches in the north of Salvador de Bahía, and on Playa do Flamingo my favorite, the same phenomenon always occurred.
Wind direction side-on from the left or from the right, but always with less or barely 6 or 8 knots. In short, the matter lacked that bit of wind so that I, with the kites that I had with me at that time, I could not emerge triumphant when facing the rather messy but consistent waves, in my vain attempt to cross the shorebreak.
So… when I was in front of the porch of the Iglesia do Senhor do Bomfim, an inevitable stop for anyone who goes to the city and… surrounded by the swarm of vendors of “fitas do Bomfim”, small typical cloth ribbons that tradition -or superstition- makes them so popular, it seemed to me the most logical and correct thing to let myself be carried away and buy a couple of those ribbons that were made with colored threads.
One for use “in situ” and the second, let’s say, as a spare so that luck would finally help me and I would be able to find in some still undiscovered old record store all those bossa nova songs that were impossible to find through the normal sale channels of music and for … of course! … once and for all, that luck would help me to find sufficient wind conditions … and this suitable beach spot and finally my bad luck could end and I would go riding with my kitesurfing board without more problems.
Tradition says that when tying the ribbon to the wrist or ankle, I chose the first, three knots must be made and each one of them must represent a wish, and that, for such a wish to be fulfilled, it must be wait for the tape to virtually to fade and fall off on its own, without you ever thinking of ripping it out, no matter how old and frayed it was.
And… since I still had one wish left over, well… after a short but intense introspection, I decided to simply wish myself a very happy and fruitful stay in Brazil.
And… that’s when, again, the name of the island came to mind… Itaparica!
Where had I heard that name before? … Oh! … I know! … it was yesterday, after going down in the formidable “Lacerda” elevator to the lower city and, after inspecting the port area a bit, I ended up at that pier from where the boats that crossed the Bay of Todos los Santos, they went as far as: Itaparica!
in the photo above, the boat that arrived at the island, the inn I choosed to spend the night and a ruined colonial-era church
And hence, there could not be a better opportunity to visit the island and even try to finish learning to master kitesurfing. So after I took one of the boats that made the journey to Itaparica, I arrived at the island and thoroughly investigated the area.
I ended up doing so much research that first day that once I had crossed the island, in a total adventure plan, I decided to take a bus that would take me to the city of Valença and to Praia do Forte, which is an idyllic spot… but that is another story
Well… wasn’t Itaparica the island that years ago I had heard about and in which my Argentine friend in Lanzarote said that he woke up in the morning rocked by the sound of the wind in the coqueirales? -coconut trees-
So I had to try that about the breeze, to see if it would turn out that, without knowing it, that was the predestined place? …
And so it was! It was in Itaparica, on a windy day, where I finally started doing rides kitesurfing in one direction and the other, and where I learned to kitesurf.
And since then … and until now.
A couple of links about the island:
And… some music, from a man born in Bahia, who was after the former Minister of Tourism of Brazil, yes, the former president of Brazil, Lula, chose him for the position. It must have been for a very good reason, of course, I mean Gilberto Gil, which, together with Toquinho perform: Afternoon in Itapoa.
Being Itapoá a coastal beach near Salvador de Bahía, a few kilometers north of the city. By the way, I still remember that in a public square, Plaza Caymmi, some ladies dressed in old typical Brazilian costumes from when Brazil was a colony of Portugal, they sold a kind of empanadas similar to a fried Mexican “taco” which were cooked by themselves there in the square, and that they seasoned with a wild spicy that made you cry and not precisely with emotion and feelings but because of the wildness of the spicy… things that, among other good things, are not forgotten in life …
I didn’t imagine it… although… being Brazil, the tropics, that possibility was perfectly possible, and… that was as it happened, it rained and… it rained in what way! Besides, all told, camping was forbidden, and… I didn’t even know where I was really going.
Everything was based on the little information they had given me in a small tourist office in the only town on the island and largely on personal intuition from what I had seen on my first day on the island and, about the camping tent, really it was more than anything a hunch that occurred to me the night before the trip, in Angra dos Reis.
Yes, why not buy a camping tent and spend a night on some nice beach? That was what a friend and I had talked about the night before going to the island and after spending a delicious evening attending a circus show and then in the morning the same day we bought the camping tent just before taking the boat to the island.
In spite of everything, and although the camping tent that we had bought seemed strong and protective, it did not hold so much water, so we ended our night adventure under the stars sleeping completely wet, I have to say, but it did not matter since it was worth it … all of it.
But especially the idea: staying on Lopes Mendes beach when everyone had already left and … missing on purpose the last boat back to the village of Abrâo, which is where our accommodation was and which was the only place on the island where there was any human activity, since the rest of the island’s beaches are deserted beaches where there is nothing, no bars or hotels or other accommodation, just sand and sea water.
At dusk, the sky caught fire in that way that only happens sometimes, very rarely. The sun setting under a sky of dark gray clouds, and under the black clouds, an orange sea almost incarnated, something spectacular!
We ate the pseudo dinner that we had brought with us, so, before falling asleep, we still spent time telling stories, making plans for the next few days, laughing and singing.
One of the boats that take you in different directions from Vila Abraao to the other beaches on the island
The sky, already at night, at first, was a real wonder. In the dark, with a bright moon that was sometimes obscured by clouds, it still revealed at least half a million stars… until the first flashes of lightning began.
Impressive! as if in the middle of the darkness, suddenly, the light beam would cross the sky, illuminating everything and highlighting the outlines of the clouds, from cloud to cloud… or falling down over the sea, far away, for, the next instant, a moment after being dazzled, everything turned to darkness again.
Until… of course… then the rain came.
At first the raindrops crackled on the roof of the tent, then louder, then even louder. Water and water and more water.
The water did not stop because the fabric surface of the tent could no longer absorb the large amount of liquid and finally… leaks!
So we ended up huddled up tight with what little clothes we had with us, thrown over ourselves and shivering in cold.
Well, when you are accompanied, misfortunes are always look less bad than when you are alone … or at least when you are with a loved one, everything, even if it goes very wrong, it seems more poetic, something that you will definitely remember with joy and fondness
The bad times for the good times which are really the ones that count in the end.
The three photos above, the beach where the boat left us upon arrival, the dirt road through bushes and vegetation that crossed to our destination and Lopes Mendes beach.
And with the new morning, the first and welcome rays of sun arrived, warming the atmosphere. We put everything in the sun to dry and after a while, everything was dry and the inconveniences of last night were also dry and forgotten.
That’s also where the first bath came, with that super white sand underfoot and the magic: güis güis that the sand made when walking, and running to get into the most transparent water I’ve ever seen and start swimming, playing with waves. Enjoying all that wonder just for ourselves.
I’m talking about Ilha Grande, the most beautiful pearl on the coast of the state of Rio de Janeiro, and look, there are beautiful beaches! … but those on the island of Ilha Grande are not to be missed.
Here are some links to see the beauty of the place and the comments of some people who have come there
The photo above, one of the trilhas or dirt roads that cross the island. Also one of the thousand butterflies that flew happily everywhere.
There are no paved roads in Lopes Mendes, there are no cars, so you have to walk and you can’t drive anywhere. To get to all the beaches you need a boat or to walk across one of the many paths between the trees that go up and down the mountain, and again it is worth mentioning the large number of butterflies that were there, many of them very large, a open hand size and with brightly colored wings, including electric blue.
Then the next two photos show other possible boat trips to the beaches of Saco do Ceu and Enseada das Estrelas.
Incidentally, this trip that I am now describing was prior to everything written above, at that time I was not yet living in Brazil, I was only traveling.
And the two photos below these lines, the first of them, Lopez Mendes from above and the second, the Cachoeira da Feiticeira, which was accessed again after following a few paths and going down some dirt slopes that did not make access easy at all, although the prize came once you had reached the waterfall, where you could cool off in the small pond at the foot of it.
And, as almost all beautiful things have a more intimate tone when accompanied by music, here is a poem by Vinicius de Moraes, the great Brazilian poet, of whom, by the way, he made a song.
Perhaps in the reflection of the moon in the sky that night on Lopes Mendes beach, was the magic of what I experienced… there, and in those things that only happen to one when… you are not alone .
The poem is in Portuguese language:
São demais os perigos desta vida
Pra quem tem paixão, principalmente
Quando uma lua chega de repente
E se deixa no céu, como esquecida
E se ao luar que atua desvairado
Vem se unir uma música qualquer
Aí então é preciso ter cuidado
Porque deve andar perto uma mulher…”
and, its English translation:
There are too many dangers in this life
For those who have passion, mainly
When a moon comes suddenly
and it stays, in the sky as if forgotten
and if to that moon light
A music comes to join
Then you have to be careful
Because there must be nearby, a woman
Final point… these last few lines are going to be the final point of this long post. I know that having written it does not necessarily mean that the meaning of why I started it is understood. This writing is not about kitesurfing, this is a website of a kitesurfing school, but…
The idea of this blog entry was to expose some things that happened to me during the different periods I lived in Brazil, but above all, also the selfish exercise of “refreshing” my memory with so many details and unforgettable memories.
From a wonderful country, with beautiful places, some very “legal” people -good people-, as they say there, with endless beaches, good winds, tropical fruits, unique music and so many more things that marked the passage of those years.
There is a saying that goes: You have to travel, because when you come back you are no longer the same one.
You have enriched yourself, especially you have enriched yourself as a human being. Your vision of the world has grown, your knowledge of things and people is better, and in short, you have become wiser, nobler, fairer and more complete.