Itaparica Island

Don't forget to read our posting "A Very Special Day" if you have not read about our first day in Brazil!

September 14, 2005
Itaparica Island and Maragogipinho

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

A beautiful morning in Bahia with a gentle breeze sweeping through the port terminal is a welcome sign of what the day will bring. With curly hair, diffused for the first time, around eight thirty we departed for our field directed practicum under our anthropology professor Willie Smyth. There were only fourteen participants, which is quite a change from the overly large tours and boisterous crowd.

Heather writes, “Today was the first day since the beginning of the voyage that we wore our hair curly and I definitely think we threw some people off. At eight thirty we made our way by bus back up to the old district in the upper city and Pelourinho. Even in the morning hours Brazil evokes a certain charm. The city still holds a subdued whisper of a bygone era with small reminders of the modern day like the internet café squeezed between a colonial church and a lanchonete, which is the Portuguese spelling of a Brazilian fast food joint.”

Back at the same museum, only in the cellar, we were given a grand tour of the Archaeology collection of ceramics from the region. Again, I watched amazed while the expert spoke Portuguese, our tour guide translating, and he touching and holding the pieces that are more than five hundred years old. Photography was permitted and it was Heather’s turn in the limelight, as she found herself face-to-face with Wari ceramics, zoomorphs with frogs. I felt so glad that both of us have seen things in Brazil relating to our studies. Returning to Maryland we will most assuredly feel like indulged seniors in the art history department with all of our experiences.

Heather writes, “Our first stop was in the cellar of a Jesuit monastery that now houses the archaeology museum and a collection of Pre-Columbian ceramics from before the arrival of the Portuguese in Brazil. If yesterday was Megan’s forte, than today was definitely mine. To see so many different pieces from Brazil’s past was certainly a peek into what I enjoy so much about Pre-Columbian cultures. I was pleasantly surprised to find zoomorphic ceramics from the Wari, and was even more excited about a particular piece adorned with clay-fired frogs. The museum held a certain appeal in old-world charm, the vaulted like ceilings made of red stone, and the floors uneven brick.”

The museum was poorly lit, but provided for great photos with the flash, rather than a finicky half-lighting that are never very clear in photos. Equally, the granite, sand and whale oiled ceiling was incredibly unique and provided an unconventional appeal.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

After the museum we made our way to the ferry for a fifty-minute ride to Itaparica. We were supposed to have embarked on the ten thirty ferry, but our bus was too big, thus we found ourselves waiting for the eleven o’clock crossing. At last we were happy to be standing on the upper deck of the ferry taking some incredible pictures of the MV Explorer with the city as a backdrop. I have found it very interesting that Brazil is so cool. There is always a wonderful breeze and though I have found myself hot at times during the noon hours, it has been pleasantly cool at night and quite breezy during the day.

Megan writes, “We left the museum for the ferry to Itaparica Island, waiting about an hour for the larger ferry to arrive, as even the mini tour bus was unable to fit on the ten-thirty departure. We went to the top deck of the ferry, able to see our ship and the Salvador coast touched by the first rays of the young sun as she made her ascent. The captain invited the eight of us that were there at the time to the bridge, which seemed unusual, however fascinating. In the bridge the meandering path of the wind billowed through the deck as we watched our approach over fifty minutes to the island. The captain had family in the United States and it certainly provided more of a panorama of the beautiful island as we approached, rather than the filthy seats and over crowded passenger area.”

As we drove through Itaparica Island for an almost two hour ride I could not believe the beautiful scenery. Stunning broad vistas of palm speckled green hills rolling off into the distance and bamboo lined streets gave the island a feel of being lost in paradise. Certainly this was further improved by the appearance of the sea in the distance and hibiscus flowers popping up from their sleep. I would have to describe the island as neglected with care. Plants are overgrown and buildings aged, but everything seems to have a place and meaning. We passed a palm plantation that specialized in small red coconuts used in the local cuisine and it was so impressive – palms spaced out as far as the eye could see with their waving fronds and leaf covered trunks.

Megan writes, “Once on the island we made our way in the tour bus on a heavily cratered highway. You would think asteroids had showered the tiny islands only thoroughfare as we bounced, shook and teetered to every swerve. The island, covered in lush vegetation so thick and green that it would be easy to surmise that even the root systems and limbs reached every one of the seven thousand kilometers of coastline. Can you imagine?”

After a very pleasant, although long ride, we arrived in Maragogipinho were there is a traditional village rich in the ceramic traditions. We were told that this is the only colony in Brazil that has such an elaborate and talented trade in ceramics, though there are maybe two or three of lesser craftsmanship. It was almost as if the appearance of our bus prompted every child in town to make an appearance. They found us fascinating. We walked amongst the small palm covered structures, stepping carefully around broken fragments of some discarded ceramic and into the cool shade of the shops. There were so many amazing pieces I found it hard to decide what to buy, and prices were cheap, too cheap I think for the beautiful work.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Palm trees sprouted from hills, ravines and beaches. The knolls looking like pincushions specked with the lofty palms. We passed dende plantations, their palms with their small red coconuts, where row upon row upon row of the trees were laid out like a patchwork quilt.

After an hour and a half we reached Maragogipinho. Children ran alongside the bus as we approached, some with book bags from their hours at school. The smell was dreamlike, that is to say, I felt like an October morning when the warm, spicy smell of mulled cider, chimney smoke and cold air greets you in the morning. The only inconsistency to my imaginary wanderings – the sun-drenched paths, scorching sun, and trees still clutching their leaves, fingers clinging to their emerald beauty.

Heather writes, “The town was situated on a small river, with quaint little boats lining the bank, rocking in the gentle current. The kids followed us everywhere, though we could only smile because they spoke Portuguese. We spent some time walking around and visiting the various shops before making a purchase and found the village a very welcoming place.”

Inside shacks and lean-tos created from wooden sticks, kilns and ranks of ceramic creations as far as the eye could see. Each dwelling the same. We spent an hour and a half there, walking the small paths, talking amongst each other, enjoying the sunlight and time to unwind. One girl bought some of the children lollipops and I found myself regretting that I had not brought jolly ranchers. I never thought that the ceramics production would be right in the village, the whole area dedicated to its manufacture with so many children. In the future I will probably try to always pack a little bit of jolly ranchers for such surprises. They follow you around with wandering eyes, pointing and speaking in a language unknown to you. But they seem so happy.

Heather writes, “The people are so friendly though we have no means of understanding each other. Megan and I found it fun and difficult to purchase some of their wares, shaking our heads yes and no, and holding our fingers up to show that we want four of something. Eventually we managed and paid in US dollars, though change was another thing altogether, but that too worked out. An older man working at the pottery wheel, his hands wet with clay, seemed to be having a conversation with us. I caught the words for difficult and mathemathics, but we, him as well as us, had to shake our heads and smile, before we said, “dificile, ingles, si.” In the end an, “obrigado” did the trick than any other word could do and we left with our handmade crafts. They have such talent and I am very pleased with what we bought.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Though we have no common means of communication I think that some special meaning was conveyed to these people than mere words could say. I felt as if a whole conversation, separate from the verbal one of smiles and fragmented words in broken Spanish and English, was being held in the way we talked and moved our hands and looked at each other – a respect gained through simple acknowledgement of the other and shared humor as we each thought, “what are they saying?”

Megan writes, “I made several purchases; dollars were accepted which seems to be the case at any market. As the man only spoke Portuguese and Heather and I only English it was quite an adventure. One of the girls with us had a conversion chart for currency and he pointed out the total in reals and we paid in the dollar equivalent. Our change was in the local currency, which is perfect. He did have a difficult time finding the right amount. It is amazing what people are able to accomplish even without speaking the same language.”

It was a very relaxing and enlightening trip; the kids waving to us as we drove off and made our way back to the ship. It has been another very long day and I look forward to resting some tomorrow around the ship before our evening excursion, Bahia by night. Boa noite, or goodnight from Salvador da Bahia.

Megan writes, “We headed back, traversing the same route and returned to the ship around five thirty. Just in time for dinner we had our first dessert, a chocolate brownie and are going to purchase a calling card, shower, work on our first papers and go to sleep.”