Beaches: Fortaleza, Ceará

I've delayed in writing about Fortaleza because it's hard to construct a narrative or theme. Of perhaps all the cities I've visited this trip, Fortaleza has the least personality. This is not to say that it`s the worst town I've visited. São Luís had plenty of personality, but I'm not itching to go back there anytime soon. Personality often costs money. And it's certainly a nicer town to stay in than were others.

Fortaleza has beautiful beaches. Famous beaches. Long beaches. As I once noted, having observed tourist t-shirts around Rio de Janeiro, Fortaleza is where Cariocas go when they really want to go to the beach. (They also go to Natal, Maceió, and surrounding beaches.)

It's also a town founded by the Dutch, but the founders didn't stay long and there aren't many traces of them. The region is famous for exporting humorists to the rest of Brazil, but my ability to "get" Brazilian humor is still limited.

In any case, I came to Fortaleza to run the 10km race listed below. I finished in a time five minutes slower than my time at the Strawberry Stampede in Arroyo Grande in 2007. I blame the weather, aging, lack of training, the weather again, and my diet. But no matter. I still have three weeks until another 10km run in Porto Alegre.

(Come to think of it, Porto Alegre doesn't have a terribly pronounced personality, besides the perception that "wow, this feels almost Argentine." And I like Porto Alegre.)

So every other morning or afternoon, I headed out to run along Meireles and Iracema beaches, pictured below. The first photos are of Meireles, which has a marked waterfront strand approximately 3km long, from a shipwreck at one end to a fish market at the other. In between, the curving beach and the high-rise apartments and hotels recall Copacabana in Rio.

(Can anyone name beaches more famous than Ipanema and Copacabana, identifiable worldwide just by one name (and two famous songs, interpreted by Barry Manilow and Frank Sinatra)? I can only think of Waikiki as a candidate beach that is equally as famous.)





The other photos are of Praia da Iracema, which I knew from Caetano Veloso's "Tropicalia", which I've probably linked before because it's one of my favorite songs. "Viva Iracema ma ma ... Viva Ipanema ma ma ma..."

Iracema has seen better times. According to multiple locals, it was once the hot nightclub location in the city, with bars and restaurants galore. Then an increase in prostitution drove the nightlife elsewhere, and the area is still recovering. When I ran by, the federal government was working on projects to redo the pier (The English Pier) and rebuild the rock seawall.





The middle photo notes that the federal government owns the beach because it's a piece of national heritage, and... I dunno... it says something else too. Hard to read.

The last photo is some bum in front of the statue of Iracema, an Indian princess after whom the beach and several other spots in the Northeast are named.

Aside from running on the beach and the waterfront, I had tremendous luck in scheduling interviews (twelve letters sent to Fortaleza, and eleven interviews). It was the most successful city of the road trip, in terms of work. And Fortaleza has the same convenient bus system integrated by terminals that São Luís had, which made getting to interviews a snap. (I was lucky to leave São Luís a week before the bus drivers went on strike.) Salvador could use the same system.

Oh, and I finally got to eat sapoti fruit. I first tasted it in the Sunday market in Gloria back in Rio in December. It was rather pricey there, but the lady called it "sapoti baiana" and I was sure I would find it in the northeast.

I did, and I bought the lot of three pictured below for less than two reais. I put them in the fridge to eat the next day.

I consumed them all in less than five minutes. Imagine the sweetest pear you've ever tasted, a pear that tastes almost like straight sugar. Oh my goodness. I had a stomachache for a day afterward, and never bought another. But, oh, my goodness.



Oh, and one hint from Fortaleza: when looking for a bar/restaurant with live music, it's important to make sure that the place has wi-fi.



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At the end of the road trip, I came back to Salvador for a week, to indulge in access to a washing machine, reliable internet, a stove for making pasta, visits with the Vieiras, and all the amenities of apartment living. The week was not terribly eventful, though I did enjoy passing the time with the Vieiras. Got to go swimming and see the fish at Porto da Barra again.

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And now I'm back on the road. I just arrived in Brasília, the loathed and loved capital.

Brief story:
I arrived and pulled the usual routine of going upstairs to the departures floor to catch a cab. This technique works to guarantee a cheaper cab at most large Brazilian airports, as you're hiring someone from a post in the city and not from the airport post. Being not of the airport post, that cabbie usually has to go back without a fare. Thus fares are much more negotiable.

Lesson #1: taxis in Brasília only stop at the lower level. No matter.

So I get in a cab with a grumpy mineiro driver, and he drives me to where I think my pousada is. He tells me along the way that the city government is cracking down on unlicensed pousadas. (This is complete bullshit, as regular business hotels in this city are terribly expensive.) He asks me if I've talked to someone there. I mumble something, and we continue. (I made an email reservation.) We arrive at the pousada, and it's abandoned. The driver gets slightly more grumpy upon discovering that I didn't talk to anyone.

We go to the next pousada, where he's dropped a fare off recently. When we arrive, we note that the sign on the door says that the pousada has been closed for non-compliance with the city law. Damn.

We stand there talking for about five minutes about possible hotels in the business hotel area of the city. (In Niemeyer and co.'s design for the capital, there's a specific section set aside for hotels.)

Suddenly, thankfully, the door to the pousada slides open and two guys emerge. They confirm that the pousada is operating, and we arrange a room for the night.

So here I am, typing away. I have a fan-cooled room, which is okay because the city is cool and the air is so remarkably dry.

I panicked for a good hour in looking online for a new hotel, before noting that I perhaps got the address of the first pousada wrong. I wrote down the address, walked down the street, and pressed a buzzer.

An elderly lady came around the side, asked if I was Adam, and mentioned that, although my reservation was good, the pousada had moved since Lonely Planet writer visited.

And yes, despite the availability of a room and a nice innkeeper, there was a sign on the door reading "Closed by the Governo do Distrito Federal." So it goes.

Postscript: As I noted to many people, the combination of grid-like streets, a mix of high-rises and low-rises, palm trees, and a beachfront made Fortaleza remind me of south Florida. It was perhaps the most American-looking city to date. By coincidence, perhaps, Fortaleza is a sister city to Miami Beach.

Post-Postscript: One of the reasons I stopped in Fortaleza was to see a friend, and had a great time at lunch with him, twice. So shout-out to Alceu, and thanks to his family and him for the hospitality.