Vampires on Broadway

February 2009

Still pale as ghosts, we headed to the coast southeast of Fortaleza, known as Sunrise Coast. Our main destination was Canoa Quebrada, which translates as Broken Canoe. It used to be a fishing village and had no electricity until the 1990s, but is now one of the most popular beaches in Ceará. I was greeted with a Twilight Zone moment when I got there…a bunch of scantily clad people parading in front of a symbol of Islam?! I’m sure that my fellow Broken Canoers don’t have a clue that the symbol they chose for their town – the crescent moon and star – is an unofficial symbol of Islam. So hopefully this won’t end in a jihad.

The most distinctive features of Canoa Quebrada are falésias, steep reddish sand cliffs that rise from the beach, tall enough to be used as launch pads by paragliders. Along their flanks on the beach, fishermen park their jangadas (one-sail vessel typical of the Brazilian northeast) and barracas (oversized stalls) offer food, drinks, music and occasionally a late night beach party. Most barracas try to make life easier for foreigners and have menus in both Portuguese and English, although it may take a foreigner a while to figure out that “Fish In Tile” is actually grilled fish. And if you think Canoa Quebrada is just a place for beach bums who want to get a tan while having beer with fish or shrimp, think again. Besides paragliding, the strong winds that blow from July to December are perfect for wind and kitesurfing.

In yet another bout of “gringuice”, I forgot how strong sun in the tropics can be: you can actually get sunburned even when the sun is not fully out. Of course we forgot all about it and on our first morning there, we went for a stroll on the beach and didn’t put sunblock because it was partially cloudy. By the end of the day, my husband looked like a roasted red pepper and I looked like I had shrimp on my shoulders. The following day, pepper and shrimp were so sunburned that we spent the day scurrying from shade to shade along Broadway, the main street, like two Nosferatus on fire.

Only one thing made me get out in the sun that day: half a dozen donkeys grazing on an isolated beach. Most were wary of us when we approached, but one was curious and she actually took to me after I gave her a rub at the base of her neck. Next thing I knew, she was nesting her head against my hip. At that moment, I had an epiphany: I could have a career as a donkey whisperer…