After breakfast in the morning, we set out across the beach, taking a walk to a more secluded area. The walk also contained a trek over some rocks encrusted with shells and barnacles. I managed to slip and cut my toe on one of these shells, and instantly I'm thinking toxins, bacteria, infection. I'm thinking about trips to some rural emergency room to have my toe amputated. I'm thinking this is an episode of House, MD waiting to happen and I don't see Hugh Laurie anywhere waiting to cure my mysterious cut. This paranoid fantasy stayed with me for the rest of the day, and even into the next day as the cut started to hurt again. At any rate, I satisfied myself by washing it off in one of the tide pools and we moved on. There wasn't much to see when we got to the other beach, so we headed back and sat in one of the small inlets formed by the rising tide on the highest parts of the beach. The water was warm and the surroundings were beautiful. People were already kite boarding and windsurfing. We watched for a while and deepened the sunburn on my shoulders and ears for a while before heading back to the hotel.
We packed up and left at around noon, heading to an ecological area that had a big rock with a hole through it, that apparently is used on post cards. The walk was pretty long, and we passed by a couple of cage-like structures that reminded me of lobster traps from back home. I asked Sergio if they used these for fishing lobster. He replied that they use them for fish, lobster, crabs, or whatever else they can get to swim in and not swim out.
I never quite understood what the area's significance was, or why it was an ecological preserve, but the rock with the hole under it was pretty big and fairly impressive with the waves crashing under it.
We ate lunch at a place Sergio seemed to know. Of course, Sergio seemed to know just about everyone we met on the trip. The lunch was fish again, with salad and fried manioc pieces, and it was delicious. When we were done, we headed out again, this time traveling mostly by what roads there are. The roads in this part of the country are, for the most part, dirt roads or rough cobblestones. It wasn't much smoother than the ride in over the dunes. Ana says that there are really no interstates or large highways between cities in Brazil, and this trip really instilled that message in me. For the most part, even the paved roads were thin two lane affairs that you might see in any suburban neighborhood in Massachusetts. They often ended abruptly, turning into cobblestone paths or dirt roads for miles at a time, only to come back just as suddenly. It makes me wonder how commercial goods get transported through Brazil, especially since I saw no big 18 wheelers, even on the paved roads near Fortaleza. The roads are only sizable within a few miles of the outskirts of the city, though it generally doesn't matter because there are very few people driving on them outside of the city. Inside the city is another story, with every road packed with traffic that makes my morning commute to Watertown look like a Sunday ride through the country. The rule seems to be, "honk early, honk often" and there are numerous bikes and scooters that weave wildly through the cars.
We stopped at a roadside cafe, one of many that dotted the inhabited areas along the roads back home and got some coffee and more tapioca pancakes. The food was surprisingly good, and I liked the coffee, even without milk or sugar. Ana tells me this is because I have no taste buds, and that I can't tell bad coffee. She says this is evidenced by the fact that I even liked the "crappy" Brazilian coffee that she got me when we were back in the States. I now have some of the "good" Brazilian coffee to bring back with me when I go home.
At any rate, we got home fairly late and fell asleep almost instantly.
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