The Return to Pipa

Normally when I do a weekend excursion to a beach, I come home annoyed with the very idea of setting another foot onto scalding sand or swimming in ocean water. I feel like dried out leather yet bloated and ill from the salt water, beer and grease I invariably consume.  I assumed I would feel this way when we came home from Pipa but surprisingly found myself wondering when we could return. The basics remained the same: beautiful beaches, crabs galore, the good ol' hippie atmosphere. But some things were totally different from our first trip here six months ago: laws, seashells, animal sightings.  

The biggest thing I looked forward to was collecting seashells. I loved how the beach between Praia de Centro and Praia de Amor was drenched in millions of colorful shells back in November 2014. Unfortunately like the changing seasons, the turnover of sand and rock migrations were different- not a shell in sight. I asked one of the bar guys when the shells would return and he guessed within 5-6 months. We still enjoyed the tiny black crabs scrambling over the sharp, water abused rocks that seemed to have multiplied. Or maybe it was just extremely low tide.

Crab hunting. 

Grandma and grandpa take a hit to the face.

My children particularly looked forward to a promised catamaran tour to see the famous dolphins and to swim in the deep ocean off the back of the boat. I marched right up to one of the many guides on the beach and requested tickets for 4 adults and 2 children. To no avail. According to the guide, that was a law enacted in January 2015 prohibiting children under 5 to ride in a boat, even if they had lifejackets. I ended up distracting their sadness with promises of ice cream and kayak rides. The good news: the dolphin sitings were few and far between during this so-called low season, so we didn't feel like we missed much. 

Mark couldn't wait to get his hands on Pipa's sole microbrew: CAP Beer. Last time we were in Pipa we toured CAP's brewery built into a residential home located off a rowdy, crag ridden neighborhood dirt road. At the time all three employees were present, and we hung out drinking beer while the kids played on the lawn. We walked away with beer (duh), goodies, and advice on finding decent beer in Recife. When this next trip came up, Mark emailed the brew master to schedule a visit but learned he and his brewery were on hiatus in Chile. Apparently he was dealing with exploding bottles and recipe improvement.  His hope is to begin bottling in June and selling by July. Which naturally means we need to come back.

As for the rest of the trip? Not too shabby. We got pounded by waves and watched the muscle hard surfers on Praia de Amor. We lingered in a tidal pool and "built" sand castles and drank passion fruit (maracuja) caipirinhas where we would have collected shells. We lingered on my now favorite beach, Praia de Madeira during (go during low tide) and bobbed like loons in the rolling waves. We hiked through the Ecological Sanctuary where this time about 20 marmosets pommeled and chased each other in the trees. Let's not forget to mention the bats, turtles, and frogs. And spiders- there were a few anxiety inducing arachnids, but no tarantulas; and not in my bed either.

Margo and Deets as Godzillas.

Saguis/Marmosets

This might sound like I'm playing the Princess Card, but we enjoyed air conditioning and a pool at the condo we rented via Airbnb. The last condo in Pipa was bit more... rustic. It was much quieter and further away than our last place too, about a 20 minute walk from the main road.  Since we always end up carrying the kids on our shoulders, this walk turned into a pretty strenuous hike but helpful to burn off incurred calories of vacation imbibement. And imbibe we did: espresso and pastries at Terra Nostra, gelato at Preciosa, grape caiprinhas at Macoco, Argentinan picnanha at Os Prazeres de Carne. Everyone eats well and surprisingly affordably when they visit Pipa. 

Even after my reticence with beach life and entertaining the children with nothing more than a shovel and a bucket, after the ocean itch, and after the chronic sandy sunscreen applications, I think I am ready for more action. Well, maybe 1 more week.

Night sky from our balcony.

View of Baia dos Golfinhos- accessible from
Praia do Centro only at low tide
above Mark's right shoulder.

Stairs leading to Praia de Madeira.

Pipa- The Wild(ish) Side

For our last full day in Pipa, Mark and I decided to spend the morning exploring Pipa's Ecological Sanctuary. Since it was located above the cliffs of Madeira Beach, he reasoned we could enjoy a potential bonus of finding backdoor access to the ocean below and adding one more beach to our list.  We heard it could be tricky, some friends tried hiking earlier in the week with their 5 year old and didn't have luck.  I already felt like a cross between an old salted shoe and poorly cured beef jerky so I wouldn't have minded too much if we couldn't find it. Yet, we dressed for the occasion anyway and headed out.

The sanctuary's sandy hiking path was meticulously raked and beautiful. The kids could freely lead the way as they followed the animal coded trail signs on the lookout for wildlife. Did we see anything? Not really, because my children likely scared them off with their whooping and stamping around. We did enjoy a family of fenced off turtles, but the tour was totally worth it because we had shade. Of course about to call it a day, one of the employees helpfully directed us to the Pirate Trail, leading straight to Madeira Beach. Peeking through the trees and over the cliff, we could already see the dolphins. I couldn't possibly say no to that. The trail was by far the steepest terrain we encountered but gripping Margo in one arm and the well-used guide rope in the other, down we went. 

I can't say this beach visit was my greatest victory: Margo was insufferable and exhausted, Deets was oblivious and distracted, and Mark was his usual affable self, seemingly impermeable to my rapidly depleting tolerance to sun exposure. Alas, I rallied. We played, swam, kayaked, and hiked straight back up from whence we came. Thirty minutes later with one less shoe (darn it Margo!) we sat in our own dusty, sandy filth and cruised home for another fully clothed shower and a nap.

At some point during the afternoon while we wandered about and visited a local brewery, the electricity went out for the entire town. Everyone stood outside in the shade, conversing and relaxing as they waited for the juice to kick back on. Tiny sagui monkeys took advantage of the situation, climbing and swinging along the black cabled jungle. The monkeys drew even more crowds to the street, blocking traffic and irritating drivers. I loved the spectacle they created thought this totally completed my vacation experience.

Until the next day.

Having slept poorly and up early again, all of us were very excited to go home.  Mark corralled the children in the back patio while I enjoyed the relative peace of stuffing organizing unwashed clothes into our bags and moving them to the doorway. Walking into our room, I laid my eyes upon a spider crawling casually along the edge of the bed. Now when I say spider, I really mean to say: TARANTULA. A Brazilian Bird-Eating Tarantula. Bigger than my hand and hairier than Jim-dog, the tarantula took no notice of my shrieking and knee-high prancing. It just kept on crawling as I ran away to make Mark 'do something' about the biggest f*king spider I had ever seen. At the time I lacked the mental capacity to come up with the word tarantula. (Earlier this week I made him 'do something' about a cockroach that I thought died on the kitchen floor. I didn't realize that cockroaches also play dead sometimes as a form of self-preservation. So when Mark resigned himself to picking up the carcass and found it was still alive, he was fairly displeased with his newfound task of killing it too.)

Anyway, seeing as how I have a dramatic flair for creepy bugs, Mark thought I was totally exaggerating until he saw it himself. He kept asking me specifically where it was, and all I could say was "you can't miss it!"  Well what did he do? Took pictures of the damn thing! He reasoned it would not be nice to kill it, and that it would probably break his flip flop. I had to agree with him there. I don't even know how one would get tarantula-gut stains out of the sheets anyway. The kids were fascinated, eager to watch him crawl along the shadows of our unmade bed. As Mark took photos, Deets reminded him to not let the spider eat his lens cap. I squirmed, feeling nauseated and horrified- but unable to look away. 

Mark dumped out all of our bags and repacked, reassuring me no that other uninvited guests would come home with us. Exhilarated, yet calm and sensible, Mark spent a considerable amount of time convincing me the tarantula's debut was only a one time thing, and that it didn't sleep with us all week; that it likely crawled into our open window just that morning. However, if there was ever a sign that it was time to go home, this had to be it.

Pipa: The Beachy Side

Praia de Centro
Peeking out from under the canopy.

Before we geared up for our first Brazilian vacation this week, I scoffed at the idea of traveling from the beach right out our front door to, well... another beach. How different could it be? In my mind, all sand is the same: sneaky, itchy, hot, and filled with crabs. While the sand in Pipa really wasn't much different than the sand in Recife, the experience was indeed totally different, and in a good way. For starters in Pipa, there was no threat of shark attacks. Instead, this insanely popular hippie town promised dolphins. Sure enough, from the beach (and from a tour boat) we could watch slick, bottle-nose dolphins swimming amongst the paddle-boarders and surfers. Even though I saw them appear probably 50 times, my reaction was always the same: a startled shout with an exaggerated arm fling and a finger point in hopes they'd freeze for only a moment longer. This was followed up with a jostling of either child dumb enough to stand near me as I'd yell "Did you SEE that?!" Oh the joy.

Praia de Madeira
for beginner surfers and paddlers. 

Kayaking with dolphins. 

We saw a bit more than dolphins- obviously a multitude of fish and crabs, some monkeys, turtles and lizards. (More on this later.) The people watching here was impressive as well. Since Pipa has evolved from a fishing town to a tourist destination, visitors from all walks of life filled the streets to dine and shop along the cobblestone main street, after energy draining days of swimming, tanning and surfing. I'm talking HOT and sunny- I went through three bottles of sunscreen, chasing after the family as they'd dash to the water, pretending they didn't hear me.

Everyday after espresso and pastries we'd hike down the 100-130 foot cliffs to explore the various beaches. We'd find a giant umbrella with lounge chairs, crack open beers and order fresh squeezed juice. It was pretty surreal, especially when I managed to get the kids to nap- yes NAP on the beach. Mark dared to suggest I just might be a beach expert like the ones I enviously wrote about recently. I wouldn't go that far. But it did help stretch the time of "vacationing" with toddlers. When Deets wasn't trying to battle the ocean with his spoon, and Margo wasn't obliging me to bury her in the sand, we collected sea shells, spied on crabs, and wandered the long stretches of beach during low tide. It was about as tropical as one could get, and considering my tolerance for intense weather it wasn't half bad. I might even say I had fun.

Crease face.

Praia de Amor for advanced surfers. And Deets.

By the afternoon we'd truck back up the cliff side with the kids on our shoulders and back to our house where I'd stand in the backyard shower fully clothed. Only after my initial cool down, could the defrocking commence as the children and husband followed suit. With all the effort of "relaxing" in paradise, I never knew we could smell so bad. Hanging clothes up to dry outside was mandatory for the entire family- especially since we packed only four outfits for each person. Big mistake. I wished I packed more considering how filthy we got; one child still in diapers and another who didn't have any underwear packed for the week. I wonder who forgot that detail? Afternoons dwindled into early dinners of meat and beer followed by copious amounts of ice cream. By 8:00pm, with another shower,  the majority of us already passed out ready to be woken up bright and sweaty at 5:30am- ready for another day at the beach.