Mão de Amiga

In the version of my life that is realized as a film starring Julia Roberts, things might turn out a little differently than they usually do. My next-door neighbor in my pousada in Salvador, for instance, would have been played by Javier Bardem. My dreams would present me with insight into my deepest questions rather than indiscernible psychological puzzles and more questions. I read and re-read Buddhist philosophy like a passenger with instructions to an oxygen mask in a burning airplane, while holding a caipirinha in the other hand – only to create more thirst.

Life is a Zen koan, and who can make sense of it? One thing I know for sure is that there is no escape – no island or beach or river or colonial city or exotic butterfly or spiritual ceremony can change the simple fact that we are stuck with ourselves, so the sooner we can make peace with that and make friends with ourselves, the less we have to suffer.

Rio, as it turns out, is not such a big city. An Italian journalist friend took me to a not-for-tourists samba rueda one night in Gamboa, a gritty centrally-located neighborhood in Rio. A rueda is basically a big outdoor party where musicians sit around a table and get down while people dance on the hillsides where salves were ushered into Brazil. I saw this woman there who looked familiar – she reminded me of someone I knew, maybe. A few mornings later, I was eating breakfast in my paradisical pousada in Santa Teresa and thinking about massage, and that same woman walked into the room and sat down to eat breakfast with her family. One of her employees called for her, ‘Carmen, can you come talk to these guests about massage?’ So, as it turned out, Carmen – who I’d seen a few nights before at the rueda -- was this lovely Spanish woman who had lived in England and now in Brazil, and she practiced this healing art called Jin Shin Jyutsu. I liked her so I made an appointment. Opening up channels can, of course, can loosen up things that only more water – salty water from the eyes -- can wash away.

I’ve spent the last few days in Salvador in the state of Bahia in the northeast. They say Bahia is the soul of Brazil. . . which I suppose would make Sao Paolo the mind and Rio the body, if we were to extend that metaphor. In general, I find myself gravitating toward kind and nerdy types – I met this awesome guy in the street the other day in Rio with tape on his glasses. Asked him for directions and he walked me all the way to my bus stop – and it turned out that he is a musician of ‘free jazz.’ He recommended an Ornette Coleman record and sent me a couple videos of his ensemble on Facebook.

Here in Salvador – a city of crumbling colonial grandeur -- I ended up spending a lot of time with my housemates – a Romanian and a Paraguayan who live in Germany, and an Argentinian. We talked and roamed around the tourist zone of the city, went to a candomble ceremony on Saturday night – where I watched people being possessed by various orishas, or energies from nature – and actually recognized a lot of movements from the samba class I take in New York. Everything here seems connected.

Yesterday I escaped the tourist zone of the old city and visited the first fort and first lighthouse in South America, whose light is said to have traveled 38 miles in the darkness and from whose portals is the only place in Brazil where the sun appears to set over the ocean. After that, I had a four-hour marathon of Bahian culture with the very enthusiastic and sincere Mestre Ryck, who trained me in Angola style capoeira. I had a little bit of an advantage from my experience with regional style capoeira 10-12 years ago. . . and when some Spaniards arrived to watch, Mestre told them I was a dancer and had me demonstrating various moves. . . until we moved on to the samba portion of the class, where the Spaniards participated. By the end, I was drumming, playing the berimbau, and made a repeat performance of “Blue Skies --” which I also sang for Marcello, the cab driver in Rio who took me to Pao de Azucar (Sugar Loaf) after he played some of his favorite music for me. After watching me for 15-20 minutes, Mestre Ryck gave me four choices for my capoeira nickname. One of them was ‘Brazos Fortes,’ but that seemed a little butch, so I decided to go with ‘Mão de Amiga,’ which means ‘the hand of a friend.’ I suppose there is wisdom in being that which you want to have.

So if there is no escape, I will instead be the hand of a friend and look for the lighthouse's beam in the night.