September 8, Tuesday
The flight from Brasília to Recife was uneventful, and much less exciting the second time on an airplane. No buses for me this time: I rented a car at the airport so I can travel freely. I have no idea what I will find. I’m almost to João Pessoa, the capital of Paraíba, on the coast a couple of hours north of Recife. I’ll stay in the city tonight and drive to Picuí tomorrow, which will no doubt take several hours, and the roads may be in bad condition.
Driving up the highway parallel to the coast, I come over a hill and the arc of the beachfront city of João Pessoa is before me. The water is bright turquoise and there’s a breeze coming off the ocean. I’ll splurge and stay in a beachfront hotel tonight. Soon I find a modest-looking place just across from the sand, and park in front.
The young man at reception beams at me. “Welcome, Madame, may I help you?”
“Yes, thank you. I need a room for one night.”
“Let’s see . . . I have one with a lovely ocean view.”
“That sounds perfect.” I complete the registration and settle into my room on the fourth floor, marveling at the vista. After a quick shower I put on a sundress and stop at reception.
“Is there a restaurant that serves typical Nordestino food nearby?”
He laughs. “No, Madame, I’m afraid not. Places like that are only found in the interior. João Pessoa is quite cosmopolitan. I am happy to make a recommendation if you like.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. But I think I will just go for a walk on the promenade and find a place along the way.”
“Of course, Madame. It’s a lovely evening.”
“One other question: do you have any idea how long it will take me to drive to Picuí tomorrow?”
The idea of going to Picuí flummoxes him, and he stammers. “Well, uh, I’m not sure. That is quite a ways.”
“No problem, I just thought you might have some idea.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never been to the interior.”
I give him a smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”
My hotel is at the south end of Avenida Cabo Branco, which curves along the tranquil bay lined with coconut palms. There is a soft breeze off the ocean as I walk to the end of the promenade, then I return to a restaurant that caught my eye. It’s a place for tourists but the décor is rustic, with chunky dark wood furniture and red checked tablecloths.
The waiter brings bread and butter. “Would you like to see the menu, Madame?”
“What fish do you have for grilling this evening?”
“We have a very nice grouper, we can grill a portion for you.”
“Yes, that will be fine. It comes with salad and fried potatoes?”
“Yes, Madame. Something to drink?”
“Mineral water please, no ice.”
After a delicious meal I walk back to the hotel and sleep peacefully.