ilha grande and the big blue martini
The waves broke over the stern of our small fishing boat as we huddled together to keep warm. The weather had turned dramatically from the previous day. We were heading back to the mainland ahead of schedule to avoid the rain and rough seas that would surely come by the time the ferry left later that day. My stay in Ilha Grande was short but it had positioned itself firmly in my memory. I was already thinking about when I might be able to return. I had seen so little of the Island yet at the same time experienced so much.
Sometimes it’s enough just to call something what it is. However, Ilha Grande (great island) just south of Rio de Janeiro is so much more than its name. During my time in Rio de Janeiro my friends have often spoken fondly of Ilha Grande with eyes glazed over as if in a dream, but each time my friends have gone I somehow was not able to go. It became a mission to reach the fabled island, to swim its transparent lagoons among the fish. After several missed opportunities I was beginning to think the island would remain but a distant fantasy for me. Until one day, the island’s patience came to an end and I was summoned.
Arriving at night I was unable to appreciate the beauty of the place. There wasn’t much light in the small village where the ferry landed which was a welcome change from Rio de Janeiro. For the first time in a long time I could see the stars.
Making our way around the island in the small boat we chartered we approached Lagoa Azul (blue lagoon). With the island’s small town out of sight it looked and felt as if we had traveled to another world. We floated onto the surface of a giant blue martini, the seabed garnished with starfish the size of dinner plates. Old dreams originating far across the Atlantic gently rolled onto beaches with sand the consistency of cinnamon. My friends wasted no time jumping into the drink with an urgency suggesting the boat was ablaze.
I followed their lead and jumped in myself. The shock of the cold water went straight to my core, the light-switch flipped, the room suddenly went dark.
The frantic knocking at my window gets my attention which has been trained on my car’s air conditioning as it fires up. The temperature is in the 90’s outside. I just got out of my last class for the day and I’m on my way to work in a shirt and tie and the last thing I want to do is sweat. I look up to see an old woman in a robe knocking on my window demanding “TAKE ME WITH YOU!” “TAKE ME WITH YOU!” Thoroughly freaked out I throw the car into gear and hit the gas. In my rear view mirror I see her standing in the middle of the street, the desperation on her face blurring as my distance from her increases. She was attempting to escape from the old peoples’ home across the street from my apartment. On an almost weekly basis I saw an old man attempting to escape. Walking down the street as fast as his tired old legs could take him he never got more than half a block before one of the home’s workers caught up with him and escorted him back inside. I often wondered what went on inside the place, what it was that so compelled this man, and now this woman to attempt an escape. Maybe it was the constant ambulance visits that undoubtedly left with a resident who wasn’t going to be returning. Maybe he just wanted out of this small dead-end town. I doubt he knew where he was going and he probably didn’t care. Perhaps he knew enough to know that at a dead end there’s only one place to go, out.
Desperate for a breath somehow I reached the surface and filled my lungs. I was exhausted, all of my strength had been sucked out of my body along with the heat. I wasn’t prepared for the water to be so cold. I made my way back to the boat and climbed in deciding I’d wait until summer time before jumping into the water again.
After drinking our fill of the big blue martini we made our way around to a small fishing village for lunch. Unfortunately I was reminded I wasn’t so far from civilization when I saw the other boats full of tourists gathering at the same place. Not that it detracted from the experience too much but for those of us who live in big cities its nice to get to places that feel as if we’re a world away from the one we left behind.
The trip back around the island to our original destination was quiet and peaceful with the sun slowly setting giving everything a golden glow. I was looking forward to what I would see the next day, our boat already reserved. However, it was not to be, the next morning brought rain and we made a hasty retreat back to the city.
Back in Rio de Janeiro, walking through my neighborhood I notice a weather-beaten man next to a bus stop with two small bags at his feet. As I pass by he looks up from the pad of paper he’s writing in and asks for a dollar for the bus.
Tags: big island, blue lagoon, blue martini, bresil, ilha grande, lagoa azul, old dreams, photography, rio de janeiro, travel, travel blog, travel blogs, travel journals
