| Tuesday, 1-Aug-2006 03:02 |
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The Seasons in Bahia Are Different
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It's the end of July and I'm looking out on a day as grey and drizzly as any in San Francisco. Small, spotted doves come and go among the trees outside my window night and day. Between showers, the window is wide open and there appears to be a mating dance starting on a prominent branch front and center. She struts and squats while fanning her tail feathers and calling with a high-pitched cooing; volume and tone proportional to the bird's small frame. Nature, in her shameless fashion, is displaying a female in her sexual cycle as she innocently attracts a mate. In my dirty mind, if she keeps up that behavior, lovey-dovey will probably be x-rated before lunchtime.
Here comes another shower and as I get up to close the window, the sound of kids at the beach goes up like celebrations at an Indian Pow-Wow as they get pelted with the first wave of rain rolling in. Itacaré`s urban beach, "Coroinha," hosts a number of small boats and canoes alongside two sandy football fields and volleyball nets. Activity along the waterfront is constant. With a few stadium lights placed among the coco palms organized leagues play into the night. Opening the window again a cheer comes up from the football field and drum rehearsals start straight accross the water from me on the opposite side of the crescent shaped "orla." (waterfront) A rastafarian from Salvador has organized a theater and show they call "Afro-tropical" where Itacaré`s children sing and dance in a theater production that portrays the African dieties, the "Orixás." The young percussionists jamming are being answered by an echo from this side which has a slightly different pitch and accents the backbeat and that seems to have kicked up the energy along the sand, even under grey skies.
"Porra!" (POha) is the cry from the beach. This guy obviously missed a goal and yelled something as equally vulgar as America's anguished cry of "Fuck!" (For the record, they're saying "Come!", the noun, not the verb.)OR... could be a player got a used condom stuck to his foot since you might say that all of Itacaré`s beaches are littered with lust. "Camisinhas" and their wrappers are the flotsam and jetsam riding the romantic tides on waves as endless and regular as the human search for an affectionate and intimate companion. We have a tourist season, a shrimp season, a low season, a mango season; we have seasonal surf, seasonal prices, seasonal sports and seasonal seafood; but "futebol" and "sexo" are things we enjoy without interruption. For those times when we have the passion but not the energy to join a team and get up a game we can always watch either one of them on television. Participation is simple, if you're not already on a team, just go to the beach and get into a "pick-up game." Get to know the other players to find out which "clubhouse" is hosting the after hours "meeting."
WARNING: There's a very physical game (no red cards-no penalties) at the beach called "baba" which means "slobber" or "drool" and it's not for the timid so be aware.
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