John People

Travel books such as Lets Go, Lonely Planet, Rough Guides, and Frommers have so much power. Every backpacker you run into carries one around as their Bible and the recommendations in the books dictate 85% of travelers’ itineraries, the other 15% I would say is word of mouth from locals. Seriously, if a pousada, tour group, bar, restaurant, or club gets their name in a book then they’re as good as gold with the promise of travelers it is sure to bring. Such was the case with our trip to Ponta Negra instead of Natal, since neither of our books had much to say about Natal, and the decision for our next destination: João Pessoa, capital of the northeastern state of Paraiba. As much as I try to be “Mr. Brasil” to be honest I had never heard of the state of Paraiba and for that matter never knew that such a city as João Pessoa existed. But LeeAnn’s Rough Guides Brazil book had great things to say about João Pessoa and geographically it fit into the schedule since it was a convenient next stop between Ponta Negra and Recife, the next major city further south circled on our route. Check out time is noon so in the mid-day heat of Ponta Negra I sweated my weight in water fully strapped up with both my backpacks trekking over to the bus station. It’s a pleasant physical balancing act here in the northeast: I devour myself with cheap all you can eat bbq, pizza, and sushi, and then sweat all the weight out in the blazing heat whilst working on my tan on the beach or walking around sightseeing.

It was a quick 3 hour bus ride south. João Pessoa is a name in Portuguese which translated into English means John People. But in my entire two days and three nights there I never did get to the bottom of who João Pessoa was and what the significance of why the city was named after him. The city was OK. Honestly, I wasn’t really dazzled by it. It had a nice stretch of diverse beaches spread out along a long but pleasantly walkable boardwalk. An interesting claim to fame of the city is that it is home to the eastern most point of the Americas and the closest point on the North and South American continent to Africa. From the lighthouse at the tip of one of João Pessoa’s beaches to the western most point in Senegal is a shorter distance than to the far reaches of the northwest Brazilian Amazon. But there wasn’t much at that eastern most point. All you really do is go to that point, take a picture, and then write about it in a blog saying that you’ve been to the eastern point of the Americas. Sort of like, in my opinion, going to Stonehenge or the Leaning Tower of Pisa (right Eric???) There was a cool, tucked away exotic beach just south of the eastern most point called Praia das Seixas. It was a remote beach about an hour’s walk from our hostel filled with mainly fishermen and a bunch of bungalow bars serving ice cold beers and an array of fish dishes blasting Brazilian reggae music. I got friendly with the bar staff there and after telling them I live in São Paulo, they kept feeding me with shots of cachaça called São Paulo.

A lot cooler than any eastern most point or exotic beach, I thought, was pier diving on my last day with a group of local Brazilian teenagers. Right in front of our hostel was an abandoned, unfinished pier that now serves essentially as a diving board for the local Brazilian kids. So LeeAnn and I swam about 100 feet out into the water to the end of the pier and climbed up to hang out with the kiddos and join in on the fun. I was too busy swimming out to the pier that I didn’t have the pleasure of seeing the looks on those kids’ faces as two total strangers, a white girl and Japanese looking guy, came on to their turf. I was thinking that they would take offense to the breach of territory and greet us with a “what do you think you’re doing here gringo?” attitude. But quite the opposite. They were helping us up on to the pier and giving us tips on the best places to jump. However, I totally let my rookie pier diving colors show in embarrassing fashion. After jumping off the edge, the safe way to climb back on to the steps of the pier was to swim around a far post and slide on to the base of the steps. It was a longer swim but a safer route since the base of the steps didn’t have sharp clams or barnacles that you can cut yourself on. But me being me, I jumped off the edge and swam to the closer side of the steps to try to climb up from there. Unbeknownst to me, the side of the steps were covered in clams and barnacles and as I tried to lift myself up my feet, fingers, and hips got mildly cut up and I started dripping in blood. The kids could have easily laughed at me and called me out as the foolish foreigner. But it was actually really cute how they all crowded around me, concerned, and asked how they could help. One little kid even came over with a tiny shrimp to serve as a cloth to wipe some blood off my finger. It was a fun experience with the locals and I found myself reminiscing to those days as a kid trying to fit in with a new group. Every city we went to on this trip had a gorgeous beach full of lazy sunbathing and stunning scenery which I could repetitively write about for days. But it’s the unique events like this that really stick out.

In case you didn't believe me that João Pessoa meant John People

If you were to swim from Brasil to Africa, you should start here. Just a tip, take it or leave it.
Praia das Seixas
Inner walls of an old Portuguese Fort
Pier diving with the kiddos
Servers Association of the State Secretary of Health. I wonder if they're hiring.