André and Itacaré. And André tried to convince me that Itacaré had become so touristy that I shouldn’t go. But I had to see it for myself. My romantic vision of picturesque beaches, Virgin Atlantic rainforest, surfbreaks, mellow hippies & surfers and a beautiful little village could only be dismissed by me… I’ve heard that you can’t force a donkey to do (or avoid) something (s)he doesn’t want. Hrmfff… So I went. And allthough nature and surfbreak remains the same, with many true souls, it is a feeling of a dense energy and a forced hippievibe here. Some are just a bit fake.
And hey, is there a Bob-Marley-look-alike-contest going on? Competing under the parole: “We’ve turned our backs to the shitty society, and wanna stay backpacked, dreadlocked and unwashed 4-ever!”
The touristy Bob Marley’s are surfing, skating, zip- and slack-lining. Talking about life, love, vegan food and ecofriendly stuff, allthough they flew inn with carbon-dioxide-emissioned longhault airbuses. But it is definitely a mix here, between these cliches and the real deals. And a lot of good things happens here too. For example yesterday’s reggaefestival at one of the beaches… After my swim, I was hanging out on the beach as the sun was about to set. I listened till I was musically content. I read my book till I was read and then I went to a baiana (Bahian aunt) who feeded me till I was fed, with a local dish rhyming with André, Itacaré and cliché: Acarajé (bean and shrimp fritters).
I’ve started to get a cold, so I praise thy lord and Bob Marley that I’ve been the only one around in my 8-bed-dorm-room during the two previous nights. Now, off to some new destination… But what is the lesson #14 learnt today? Well, I’d better listen to André.