Brynn Barineau

Tag: Brazilian Beaches

  • The World’s Pickiest Beachgoers

    The World’s Pickiest Beachgoers

    IMG_1698Last Saturday, the whole Barineau-Mauricio clan (all three of us) seized the day early (like 10ish) and headed to the beach. It was the kind of day that gets recorded and replayed in every tourist advertisement for the next decade. The temperature was perfect, warm enough to sit comfortably in a bathing suit but not oppressively hot. There was a steady breeze that my husband and daughter exploited for kite flying. It was a perfect beach day.

    There were two other families on the beach.

    I’m not exaggerating. This is not hyperbole. When we arrived there were two families camped out close to the boardwalk. The next closest people we could see were colorful ants. We looked around in dismay for any food vendor. We’d been banking on supplementing my daughter’s meager breakfast with an ear of corn, but the beach was empty.

    Now, before people start shipping furniture and arranging to have their pensions deposited in Brazil, empty beaches are not typical in Brazil, especially not around the cities. Typically, they’re packed so densely you can’t stretch your legs out without kicking the back of someone’s chair. (True story. It was a summer day at Iriri in Espirito Santo. Worst beach day ever!) In Rio de Janeiro, you can’t find a beach with less than a few thousand people on it. Drive past Ipanema on a Tuesday, and you’ll wonder who’s running the city.

    That’s not the case here in Vitoria. The empty beaches were one of the biggest shocks moving from Rio to Vitoria. I kept trying to find some explanation. Are Vitoria’s beaches more polluted than Rio’s? Are they more violent? Is there a vicious rip current? A Kraken? Where the hell is everybody?!

    After living in Vitoria for almost six years, I’ve figured it out. Capixabas are simply the pickiest beach goers in the world.

    Capixaba is the Brazilian term for a person born in Vitoria, the state capital of Espirito Santo. The best English equivalent would be North Carolinian. That state has picturesque mountains and beaches and a generally more conservative population that goes regularly to church and the salon.

    Capixabas are incredibly picky about their beach trips. Here are 7 reasons why Capixabas won’t go to the beach.

    1. The temperature has dropped below 80°F (26.5°C). If there’s one thing Capixabas fear more than visiting Rio de Janeiro, it’s cold weather. And any temperature in which you can comfortably wear long sleeves is cold. In winter when the high is around 75°F (24°C), my kid will be one of three students whose parents are still allowing them in the pool. Those other all kids have parents from Rio Grande do Sul, the state that’s so far south it’s basically Uruguay.

    2. It’s Saturday. Sunday is beach day. Obviously.

    3. It rained yesterday. Everything will be wet. And the water will be too cold.

    4. It might rain today. Everything will get wet. And to pack everything up and walk across the street only to get rained on would be such a pain.

    5. Those clouds are kind of dark. It’s probably going to be chilly with all the clouds. The wind is picking up. It might rain. Better just to wait for a day with no clouds. It’s going to be too cold today anyway.

    6. We went to the beach yesterday. If we want to go to the beach everyday we’ll go to a hotel or to our family’s beach house in Guarapari. The beaches in Vitoria are mostly decorative. You can’t use them too much, or they’ll break.

    7. It’s too empty. There just aren’t enough people to feel safe. This is the one reason I agree with. The rate of violent crime in Espirito Santo is a tragedy. It’s why we’ve never considered buying a house near the beach even though we go every weekend. I’d love to walk along an empty beach early in the morning or a night, but it wouldn’t be safe. On the other hand, I don’t think two hundred people are required to make beach a safe, and the threat of robbery certainly doesn’t stop people in Rio from swarming Copacabana.

    Most excuses are weather related. I assume most Capixabas believe English beaches to be fatal, and I’m not going to try dissuade anyone from that thinking. Mostly because Capixabas are friendly and obsessively follow traffic rules compared to people in Rio. Because nobody’s perfect. But mostly because this way my family and I have the beaches to ourselves from June through September.

    Have I missed any excuses, Capixaba friends and readers? Am I totally and completely off-base?

  • Fortaleza, Brazil: All-I-Can-Take at the All-Inclusive

    Fortaleza, Brazil: All-I-Can-Take at the All-Inclusive

    Vacationing in Fortaleza, Brazil! A lot of a good thing.
    Vacationing in Fortaleza, Brazil! A lot of a good thing.

    I just got back from a family vacation in Fortaleza, Brazil.  Our group was made up of three generations traveling from three different cities.  It was a great trip and some memories will be with me forever.  Which is only slightly longer than all the meat I consumed will be.

    If Rio is looking to present an honest and endearing image of itself to the world during next year’s Olympic Games, they should build a barbeque pit in the international terminal and welcome each flight with a free lunch.  “Welcome to Brazil! Have a plate of meat!”

    A plate of meat, piled as high as it was wide, and a mojito made with a shot of white rum and 32 scoops of sugar was my lunch each day of our stay at the all-inclusive resort.  Because once you’ve decided on the all-inclusive vacation, you’ve clearly made self-indulgence your primary goal for the week.  No point in trying to hide it under a few leaves of arugula with olive oil.

    Of course, visiting an all-inclusive with the entire family does limit the extent to which a person can self-indulge.  Vacationing with my only-child who prefers me to any other person in the world, (She’s 4 and hasn’t met a wide range yet.) meant that I did not get the writing and reading time I would have liked.  Being unable to pass out under a palm tree with a book on my face due to parenting responsibilities, I compensated by giving my stomach completely uninhibited and unrestrained access to every buffet at every meal.

    Puddings, steak, french fries, cakes, risottos, Prosecco, sandwiches, salad, cappuccinos, tarts, omelets, shrimp, cheeses, mussels, chicken, soft drinks, sausages, pasta, mousse, fruit juices, fish, rice, beans, ice cream, croissants, pineapples, and pork were all consumed with reckless abandon.  Lunch involved at least three plates; the grilled meat got it’s own plate of honor.  Breakfast would take over an hour and I survived the long stretch between lunch and dinner by indulging in the afternoon tea, which included no tea but lots of cake.  It was four days of eating as if life was free of consequences.  All consumption and no exertion.  It was glorious and delicious.  I didn’t worry or go to the bathroom from Tuesday to Saturday.

    Actually, I did start to worry on Saturday but not because I was feeling awful.  I got worried because I didn’t feel awful.  My rational-self kept waiting for the effects of my week-long bacchanalia to catch up with me.  That part of me knew no person could eat with total abandon for long and not feel utterly disgusting.  And that part of me waited.  And waited.  Meal after meal after, I filled my plate and went back for more, my taste buds rejoicing in how life could be if I didn’t care about staying a size 8 or living past 45, and I felt fine.

    Saturday’s lunch was fish stew, fried shrimp, pork chops, rice, and french fries.  I ate some of everything washing it down with a Coke.  I enjoyed every bite and would have eaten a few more french fries if they hadn’t cleared the plates.  On the walk back to the hotel, I wondered if I should seek help.

    As we hid out from the tropical sun for a few hours in our room (because too much sun is really terrible for you), the hotel staff dropped off complimentary bottled water and coconut candy.  My husband opened up one of the candies, took a small bite, and abandoned it on the table saying “Wow, that is too sweet.”  So I immediately went over and finished it.

    I popped the last bite in my mouth, swallowed it, and thought “I will never eat anything again.”

    With that last bite of coconut candy, I hit my food wall.  The full weight of every meal landed on me and left me in a fetal position on the bed.  That was it.  I was done eating.  Possibly for the rest of my life.  It took four and a half days, but I found my physical limit for food consumption.

    I’m back home and in my normal routine that includes exercise and vegetables.  My parents have gone back to the States and my daughter is back in daycare.  I’m already looking forward to our next vacation, but perhaps a camping trip would be healthier.

    I’ll bring the s’mores!!!

    TingNewBlue