P.S.P. FRENCH

Some say Brazil’s a dangerous place. On my first days in the Bahian surf town Itacaré, where the mouth of the Rio de Contas meets the Atlantic Ocean, I was mugged, as it were, by the contrast between two things. The first was the shit-out-of-luck search for a newspaper; a situation which is foreign to anyone who’s lived a life in cities. And just as I was getting used – warming, even – to the idea of living in a more detached, straightforward part of the world, came the second. Over beers with locals, I was struck by the recurring turn, “É complicado aqui.”

As a region, Bahia is a vast northeastern chunk of Atlantic coast, pocked with coconut groves, cacao plantations, summer heat and clammy-hands humidity. Bays flutter with reggae and football; boats haul fresh catches into bustling markets, surfers carve their paths. Waterfalls and bastard mosquitoes abound. Kids have kites. Marijuana. To the uninitiated, so it goes: there is absolutely nothing complicated here.

Continue reading “Finding Joy in Simplicity: Living in Itacaré”