Uma ilha no sol

So I've been in Brazil for less than two weeks and I've already gone on my first weekend getaway. I know it seems more than a little indulgent to go on vacation when I'm living in Rio de Janeiro, but hey, it's not easy living in paradise, right? After our first week of classes my friends and I decided to plan a day trip to Ilha de Paquetá, a small island about an hour's boat ride from Rio. The tickets were less than five reais (about 3 dollars), the weather was fine, and our schedules were empty, and so our adventure began.

Ilha de Paquetá is unlike any place I've ever been before. As much as I love Rio, I can definitely see why so many cariocas choose to visit the city's many surrounding islands on weekends, holidays, and Carnavál; if you think Rio is laid-back, as I once did, the informality and leisure of Ilha de Paquetá will just about blow your mind. The ilha has no cars, so everyone either walks, bikes, or rides horses, a refreshing change of pace from the sadistic, dog-eat-dog/dog-eat-pedestrian culture of motor transportation in Rio de Janeiro. I got a sense of the island's lack of crime when I noticed that the hundreds of abandoned bikes strewn all over the town were all unlocked. To put this observation in perspective, consider, if you will, the fact that a 3-inch thick metal U-lock couldn't save my bike from being stolen in Davis. In front of a Mormon church.

After walking around the island admiring the architecture and natural beauty for an hour or so, we stopped at a small (and I mean small) café for some lunch. I decided on a salgadinho (empanada-like pastries that I have become simultaneously addicted to and determined not to eat for the sake of my health) with bananas and cheese, which may sound a little strange, but hey, so do most other brilliant, life-changing inventions. We began talking to the café's owner, and before we knew it we had gotten suckered into walking down the street to her home to meet her son, who, she explained, was very attractive and needed a nice girlfriend. We walked upstairs and met not only her son but the entire family, which consisted of about fifteen people of all ages whose relationships to each other were completely ambiguous and whom, after the obligatory double-cheek kisses had been completed, offered us the barbequed meat of equally ambiguous animals and invited us to stay with them whenever we wanted. Hours of eating, drinking, samba and forro lessons, and the best Portuguese practice I've gotten so far went by and as the night came upon us we were invited to spend the night with our new friends.

Soon after, we left the house for a samba "club" that turned out to be more like a little community center, with what must have been the majority of the island's population congregated in an outside courtyard practicing samba to live music in preparation for Carnavál. Never in my life have I been more aware of my lack of ability to shake my groove thang; here were 4-year-old girls, 70-year-old men, people in wheel chairs (well, maybe not in wheel chairs) who could move like nobody's business. An hour or so later, our hosts took us to a discoteca down the street where we danced the night away to "baile-funky" and hyper remixes of songs that were popular in the U.S. circa 2001.

I can't really describe in words how taken aback I was by the hospitality of this family. I don't think I've ever felt so welcomed and by anyone I've known for a matter of hours. Even after two of my friends got lost on the ilha and had the entire family worried for their safety, we were still treated with appreciation and respect, which, as far as I can tell, Americans (especially young American women) don't always enjoy in Brazil. In the morning, our hosts took us to their café for coffee and breakfast and gave us the phone numbers of numerous family members (none was written as large or as bold as ABNER, their oldest and apparently most eligible son). I love Rio and am so appreciative of the fact that I get to live here, but Ilha da Paquetá was a refreshing glimpse of the Brazil that lies beyond the big cities.