The
night was mercilessly hot. The crowd didn't help, either. My sweat moustache
was non-negotiable. The cramped corner in Manaus felt hotter than the year and
a half in Guyana. No breeze to speak of. Inside the bar, it was quiet. Outside,
people filled the plastic tables and chairs, overlapping into the street and
blocking traffic. The air was thick with laughter and beautiful strings of Portuguese.
Most people were sitting or standing, talking, and relaxing; but everyone's
eyes were on the dancers. Samba music was the pounding heartbeat, giving life
to this nighttime organism. Everyone there was attracted by the atmosphere, and
contributed to it in turn.
Two
ladies, drenched in sweat, danced next
to the speakers. They inhaled the music---exhaled a celebration of it. I
couldn't take my eyes off them. They were effortless. And, I couldn't resist. I
excused myself from my friends and went over to the ladies. I nearly tripped in
the gutter on my way. They were the opposite, a show of grace. The next move
began before the last one ended. I stood before them, searching for something
to say. Even in English, I had no words, so my limited Portuguese certainly
wasn't going to help. I smiled, and gave them a thumbs up as I imitated their
dancing. They said something beautiful, and motioned for me to join them on the
sidewalk. Yes, please. All of my experiences with dancing have given me a firm
grip on how to dance like a fool and enjoy myself. Which I did, flawlessly.
When
I stopped to breathe and attempted to cool down, I chatted with some locals. I
brought up the song I'd listened to heavily pre-trip. Nossa Nossa. Dance Dance.
In my packing preparations, it was the song that got me excited to be going to
the exotic country of Brazil. But, when I asked them about it, they gave me a
blank stare. Through broken Portuguese and limited English, the point got
across. Nodding, laughing, and shaking their heads. They told me Brazilians don't
actually listen to that song. It's mainstream, simplistic---boring. They like
real samba, they told me. And there I was, thinking Nossa Nossa was "real
samba". In a way, it was. My background and culture are far from Brazilian.
Samba was anything which made me think of Brazil, anything which brought to
mind that celebration of life. For years, I had formed Brazil in my head,
complete with its wild jungle and raging night life. It was then, when they
shook their heads, laughing at my lack of culture, that the Brazil I'd created
met the real thing.
And
the real thing is amazing. Though I've been in South America for over a year,
being in Brazil was the first time I felt like I was. My body was constantly
covered in sweat. The streets were tiny and cramped. The language was exotic,
beautiful, and incomprehensible. The
food, sensational. There's a type of snack you can buy from many street vendors.
We lovingly named them "meat sticks" as it's a wood stick, with meat
on it. Pretty much a kebab. Beef, chicken, pork, all exceptionally delicious,
cooked on a cart right there before you. All that, for the bargain price of
about $0.50 US, or $3 royals.
And
the street art. Oh, the street art.
Expression. Everything and anything. Beautiful graffiti tags littered across
the city. Parks, libraries, monuments, shops, museums. Anything you wanted, you
could find in Manaus. One of our last days in the city, we went our own ways,
searching for what interested us. I spent hours walking and watching the
streets. Jerrell and I stumbled onto a market near the edge of town, where you
could buy anything from the side of a cow, to a bag filled with the delightful
Acai berry juice. We each found our own idea of wonder in the city in the
jungle.
Its
not all fancy cities, though. Brazil is huge.
27 states, including the federal district, and we visited one: Amazonas.
Named after, you guessed it, the Amazon River. As a kid, I spent many hours
daydreaming what it was like in the Amazon. I'd contemplated the plants and
animals, the layers of jungle, the way everything
was connected. I couldn't wait to see what a real, true, rainforest was like.
My hopes as a child weren't so far off. The rainforest is an endlessly
impressive cycle of symbiosis. Although, there's a lot more development along
the river than I'd imagined. Communities similar to my village here were
clustered around the river, much like our guest house.
Our
guest house had two components. The river part, floating on massive tree
trunks, and the upstairs part, up a gigantic, steep hill. Eating, down on the
river. Sleeping, up at the guest house. Going on adventures, down on the river.
There was a lot of up and down.
Our
first night in the guest house, we experienced the most terrifying rainstorm
I've ever encountered. Trees crashed, wind howled, rain attacked the building.
And, when I say all of these things, I want you to take the mental image you
have, and multiply it by two. This thunder didn't just boom. It resonated in my
chest. Lightning lit the entire sky. Rain and wind threatened to tear off the
roof. My heart was beating fast, jumping again every time thunder shook the
roof. Water pelted in the open windows, one of the rare times I was actually
cold. I wrapped myself burrito style in the sheet covering the bed, and tried
to pretend I wasn't scared by this rainstorm to end all rainstorms. Funny
enough, that night was much more hardcore than our night in the jungle.
In
the jungle, we chopped our own firewood, almost caught an armadillo, hung
hammocks, and roasted chicken and fresh caught fish over a fire. We laughed and
drank caiprinias all night.
After
all the eating and drinking was finished, it was finally quiet. I sat on a hill
overlooking the river, with my buddy Mark. We'd slipped away from the group to
reflect on life in its endless facets. I needed a reminder that the world was
still beautiful, though it contained so much sorrow. Eventually, we ran out of
words. The moon and stars had come up some time ago, reflecting in the river.
I couldn't believe it. I was there, on the
Amazon river, in Brazil. This was one of those things Mark and I had just been
talking about. A reminder, bringing meaning and worth. Sitting awestruck
beneath those stars, that was worth it. Worth enduring the endless struggles
presented in day to day life. Worth just about anything.
Brazil was the trip of a lifetime. And my visa doesn't expire for 10 years, so
this may have been the first, but I doubt it will be the last.
