God Bless the Beach

Picinguaba was just what the doctor ordered. Early Monday morning we took a four-hour bus ride up the coast, stopping only for lunch in a beach town called Ubatuba. Our final destination was a national reserve called Nucleo Picinguaba. No sooner had we stepped off the bus and rubbed the sleep from our eyes than were we thrust into what's known as a BioBlitz. Our mission was to record or collect every single species we could find on the beach and in the estuary behind it. Usually a BioBlitz is conducted over a 24-hour period but we did a mini-blitz in two hours. We split into teams; I was on the bird team. I am finding myself more and more fascinated by birds, as deeply nerdy as I consider bird-lovers to be. They can FLY. That's nuts. We recorded 10 bird species, most notable perhaps the vulture, of which there were many. A little creepy, yes, but totally harmless, unless you are a dead animal.

Our accommodations were comfortable but definitely a step down from the luxury we'd gotten used to at IPE. We slept in a barrack-like dormitory with one room of bunk beds each for boys and girls, and bathrooms in between. Just outside the dorm was a pavilion with long, heavy picnic tables and on the opposite side of the pavilion, a kitchen with a long, open window/counter where we lined up for meals. The only real complaints regarded unwanted wildlife: there were crabs EVERYWHERE--in the shower, in our suitcases, hiding in our folded clothing--plus a bat hiding in the rafters. The food was similar to what we've been eating, if a little heartier and less refined: rice and beans, stewed meat, steak, barbecued chicken, salad, casseroles, fruit, etc. Breakfast was the only thing lacking--Wonder Bread with ham and cheese--but guess what? I chowed down anyhow. (I'm thinking I should stop bragging about what an adventurous eater I am, considering how obnoxious I found this. Thanks, Ash!)

But all of these details are secondary to: THE BEACH. Our little camp was a three minute walk to one of the most gorgeous, deserted stretches of sand I've seen. Firm brown sand backed by lush, green vegetation, dark blue water spiked with big rocks and tiny islands far offshore, a perfect, warm, fairly gentle surf. As I've mentioned before, I was worried about missing summer. Yet again, winter in Brazil is a decidedly different beast from winter in the Northeast U.S./Southeast Canada and so I got my fill of sun and sand in a place that felt like Nova Scotia's slightly tropical cousin.

One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to Paraty, a charming little colonial seaside town characterized by cobblestone streets and quaint, low, whitewashed buildings with brightly painted accents. I splurged and bought myself a fedora and a schnazzy pair of Converse (new design! Moreover, I had nothing to wear for city-walking, which I'll be doing a lot of in the three weeks after this program ends). We wandered through shops and art galleries and then had dinner and drinks, which inspired us to, upon returning to camp, skinny dip in the dark. It was cloudy, so we couldn't see the stars, but there was enough light to move around safely and it was incredibly beautiful and exhilarating nonetheless--the foggy clouds added an air of mystery. Later, Darcy and Olivia stood with their ears to the boys bathroom and listened to them talk about which girls they'd caught "glimpses" of. Endearing.

The other highlight was a hike we took on the last day. It began (early) at the beach we were closest to and took us up and down small seaside mountains to two others. Difficulty level was ideal--invigorating but not impossible--and the trails and beaches were all unbelievable. By the time we got to the middle beach it had started to rain, but it was a warm rain and we were so hot and sweaty that most of us stripped down to our bathing suits and dove into the water anyway. Felt spectacular. Few things make me happier than swimming in the ocean, and I didn't even mind that I had to pull my wet jeans over my wet bathing suit and finish the hike with grains of sand covering every inch of my skin.

Picinguaba, of course, afforded us a good many learning opportunities as well. We focussed on toposequence, and examined the differences between three different environments of the reserve: lower montane, restinga, and mangrove. One of the coolest things we did for class was visit an old-fashioned, water-powered mill in the lower montane area. Some of the few native people who still live on the reserve use the mill to grind manioc, or cassava, into a flour that is a culinary staple in Northeastern Brazil--I've seen it at almost every meal, often mixed with chunks of banana or ham or green onion, as a topping for rice and beans and/or meat.

On our last night, after a delicious barbecue, a local elderly man named Seu (Sir) Genesio came to talk to us about how the area had changed over his lifetime. He was a rambler, but he had some very interesting things to say--about living off the land and sea, about the danger of roads (they changed everything, in a bad way), about the supernatural (he's a god-fearing man, to say the least), about an escaped slave woman who lived in a cave for years, surviving on animals she caught in a large trap dug into the ground and covered with leaves.

I couldn't stop staring at his hands, which were worn smooth and completely misshapen--several the highest joints of his fingers were splayed unnaturally and it looked as if you could fit a basketball between his thumb and index finger. He told a striking story to explain it: as a young man he had been fishing on a cluster of rocks in a cove. Suddenly, an enormous wave knocked him off and he ended up thrashing in the water, fighting for survival by grasping for rocks as he was violently ripped away from and slapped into them, for over 12 hours. He survived but has borne the scars for the past 60 years. The diversity and resilience of human life never fails to amaze me. I didn't get a picture of him, sadly.

We also studied two endangered species. First, the Palmito tree, an endangered species from which delicious hearts of palm are harvested--unfortunately, once the delicacy is extracted, the tree necessarily dies, and the growth of a replacement seedling can take years. We did an exercise to determine the viability of the Palmito population in Nucleo Picinguaba and learned about how to improve it and what measures are currently being taken to do so. Then, on our way back to IPE, we stopped again in Ubatuba, for another lunch but also to visit Projeto TAMAR, a Brazilian non-profit whose mission is to protect sea turtles from extinction along the Brazilian coast. We went to one of their education centers, where we ogled sea turtles in small pools as they swam around anxiously awaiting lunch, and learned about the dangers they face (fishing nets & hooks, high-powered motor boats with fast, sharp propellers, plastic, global warming, etc.). I bought a pair of turtle earrings from the gift shop because I'm a nerd and a sucker and the money went to a good cause. Turtles, like birds, are really cool. They've been tracking an enormous Leatherback (two meters long!) along its journey all the way to the western coast Africa, where it went to feed, and back.

Now we're back in Nazare Paulista, grudgingly getting back to work on our projects. Tonight, to a club in Sao Paulo that offers four "ambients," as Gabriel described it, one of which features "black music." Should be fuu-uun. Tomorrow, FIELD WORK! Right now, a nap, and maybe a few chapters of Lolita, which is one of the best books I have ever read but also entirely exhausting, because every sentence is worth savoring three or four times. How did Nabokov do that?

P.S. See my photo page for many more pictures.