Axé!
THE LIST of things to do could’ve been torn out from a chapter of the Hedonist’s Handbook. Traipse along Atlantic coastlines donning nothing but Havaianas and a dental floss bikini; sip ultra-potent caipirinhas for brunch; samba wildly to infectious, powerful percussion beats that go on forever; join frenzied football fans bedecked in green and yellow screaming “Gol!!!!!!!” as their team scores against a humbled South American rival; play Capoeira with old masters once descended from African slaves; surf perfect waves on waters embraced by lush-green hillsides; indulge in harmless flirtations with a lifespan lasting only ’til the sunrise.
Welcome to where it all happens for every pleasure-seeking, wanderlust-driven, adventure-infused soul... Brazil!
A three-letter word
As every trip is a personal journey for the traveler, my Brazilian sojourn had over the years evolved from a hedonistic dream of passing out piss-drunk on the streets of Rio while getting trampled on by crazed Carnaval dancers, into something much deeper and, yes, I’d dare say even spiritual. Call it age, or wisdom, or sheer delusion, but my long-awaited trip to Brazil had in fact become an attempt to discover the meaning of a three-letter word: “Axé.” Roll it off your tongue like smooth chocolate, baby: “ah-shaay.” It is a Brazilian word meaning a divine energy that brings forth good luck and positivity; a magic force that moves all things in the universe according to old African religions in Brazil. I first heard about it from my Capoeira professor in Manila when he urged his students to “give Axé to your friend.”
So I loaded my backpack and jumped out the window once again to roam around Brazil, guided by my inner compass and the spirit of spontaneity, with nothing to lose-okay, except a year’s worth of savings and bits of my soul, already scattered along the sands stuck on the bronzed asses of sun worshippers along Ipanema Beach.
Cities sexy to sublime
Brazil is cultural kaleidoscope that shifts from city to city, state to state. Rio de Janeiro, “The Marvelous City” is sexy and scintillating, blessed with beautiful beaches, shaped mountains, and perhaps the biggest population of exposed, tanned female asses in the world. It was acid-trippy to walk down the city streets on a Saturday, seeing men, women, and half-men/women languidly strolling about, buying lunch or their groceries wearing nothing but their skivvies. The sight would give ultra-conservative religious Catholics a heart attack, if not for the famed Cristo Redentor statue atop Corcovado watching peaceably over it all.
Yet the Brazil of my lifetime’s imagination was captured most in the northeastern city of Salvador in Bahia, where the first African slaves were shipped in by the Portuguese colonizers to work in the sugar plantations back in the 16th century. Salvador is a steamy, sensual cocktail of a city: Imagine powerful, Afro-Brazilian music permeating through the brightly painted windows and into the cobblestone streets, Capoeira performers offering a visual display of dance and acrobatics by old churches, and traditionally dressed Bahian women peddling barbecued meats and spicy seafood fare at every corner.
A few more notes on my traveler’s journal: I then skipped to the capital city of Brasilia, envisioned to be the “City of the Third Millennium” with its ultra-modern architectural opuses, then headed south to sink my feet on the sand dunes and 42 unspoilt beaches of Ilha de Santa Catarina. Took a 17-hour bus ride west to have my jaw drop at the sight of the 275 waterfalls at Foz do Iguaçu sharing the border with Argentina and Paraguay. Headed back to the Atlantic side to catch a party in the superhip little surf town of Maresias, and partied with cooler-than-thou Paulistas on Brazil’s Independence Day.
What’s in the agua?
Then again, one could read similar stories in any Lonely Planet book. In truth, it’s those singular traveler’s tales, tucked like bookmarks in between the chapters of the guidebook clichés, that mark the difference and create the magic woven into reality. For me, above all else, the real landmark of Brazil is its people.
I wonder just what the heck is in the agua in this part of the world to breed what I now believe are the friendliest, most passionate, most patriotic, and coolest people I have ever encountered. Even the most jaded of all cynics will be softened. (Either that, or I was just really lucky for not getting mugged.)
There was a peanut vendor in Salvador who offered to buy my friend and I a round of beers, even if he looked as if he couldn’t afford to buy his next meal. After only four days walking down the streets of Salvador, it already felt like home as the people we had met either in passing, in old music stores or artisan shops, called out our names and greeted us warmly each time. Before leaving, I said goodbye to a painter who picked out a postcard to give me as a souvenir: a picture of the mythical Yemanjá, Queen of the Sea.
Another bookmark is a nine-year-old girl in Brasilia who was so excited to meet people from “As Filipinas” that she introduced me to her mother, who whipped out a little notepad to ask me what “I love you” was in Tagalog. For that was her lifetime’s prized collection--pages and pages of how to say “I love you” in different languages.
Even in those long, overnight bus rides, I was still astounded by such extraordinary warmth of the passengers who talked animatedly to each other, strangers but a minute before, as if they were lifelong friends. Once, an old man sitting in front of me noticed me drinking a guarana soft drink in one stop, and in the next station, bought me a can of the same brand only because he saw me having one a few hours before.
On my first afternoon in Floripa in Southern Brasil, I somehow ended up smoking among the homeless while watching the sunset. They were the ragamuffins of the city who festooned my arms with bracelets that read “100% Ilha da Magia” (Island of Magic), and wanted nothing in return but my “Amisade” or “Friendship.”
Another day, alone on the shore, I was watching surfers ripping the waves of Praia Mole on the Island of Santa Catarina. Two Brazilian surfers who spoke zero English came up to me and in spite of knowing that I was just in transit, still treated me to fruit shakes and beers as their welcome.
On my last few days, I partied with the cooler-than-thou kids of Sao Paulo who shoved me into clubs and raves with them (without me shedding a centavo) on the eve of their Independence Day.
Hello, good vibes!
In all my years of wandering about this beautiful planet, I only realized in this trip that I’ve crossed paths with people whom I may never encounter again in this lifetime, yet somehow form a part of me that can never be taken away. It made me ruminate on what really matters most in life. Wealth, Power or Fame? Indeed, redefined as the wealth of experience, the power of friendship, and the fame of stories told and retold as the years go by. For some reason, and without wonder, a line in the bossa nova song “Agua de Beber” sung by Astrud Gilberto kept replaying in my head to sum up my journey: “Abri todas as portas do coração.” (I opened all the doors of my heart).
So have I found out the meaning of “Axé”? It was more than a discovery, but an intense feeling--of a powerful energy spread with hellos and good vibes.
Thursday 29 September 2005 - 13:09:27
Stolen from: Capoeira.com
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