Facing the Brazil coronavirus lockdown, we decided to leave the sunny beaches of Pipa behind and go home. As a friend of mine recently said when her flight home from Salvador was cancelled recently due to the coronavirus, “paradise isn’t paradise anymore when it’s in lockdown”.
Pipa and Natal
Before we begin, let us just say that Pipa, and the nearby city of Natal, are absolutely fantastic. Tucked away in Rio Grande do Norte in Brazil’s northeast, this sunny retreat ticks all the boxes for us. Bustling streets that feel safe and clean. Undulating sand dunes with energetic dune buggy excursions. Tranquil lakes with ziplines and waterslides. Buzzing nightlife, delicious food and unspoilt beaches. After 10 years of travelling around Brazil, we wondered why it took us so long to discover this place. We’ve finally found the town where we want to drop anchor one day. Here’s just a little taste of this magical place…
We were leaving from Teresina in Piauí, and even though Pipa was over 1,100 kms away, we decided to travel by bus. It seemed like a good idea at the time. We thought we’d move at a leisurely pace, stopping off at the ramshackle beachside town of Canoa Quebrada in Ceará on the way over, and Fortaleza on the way back. Plus the bus tickets were cheap, the seats were big and comfy and we weren’t in a rush… at least, we weren’t at first.
On our way to Pipa
When we left Teresina on March 9, there wasn’t much talk of coronavirus, at least not on the news in Brazil. It still felt like a problem far away in Italy or Spain. I’d been listening to the London news a lot, so I knew it was coming. But I figured I had a month or so up my sleeve before I’d be asked by the British government to return home for lockdown. The first time we heard the virus mentioned on our trip was while waiting for the bus to leave Canoa Quebrada. People were cracking jokes at some woman who had sneezed. People were still all sitting close together, enjoying each others’ company.
That night, we ate dinner in the rodoviária (bus station) in Fortaleza, waiting for our connecting bus to Natal. People were sitting around watching football on the TV, making up their own plates of food at the buffet… Business as usual. It felt much the same in Natal. Occasionally we’d notice small changes creeping in – staff wearing face masks, bottles of hand sanitiser appearing on the hotel’s reception desk… But overall, we still felt far from the madness happening elsewhere. The bars and restaurants were still busy on the beach. Tourists were still around. We still were able to book a dune buggy along the sublime coastline north of the city. Life was good.
A couple of days later, while in Pipa, we thought we’d do a little house hunting. There were a couple of properties we’d had our eye on, and so we met up with some real estate agents who took us to look at a few. Instead of shaking hands to greet us, one agent explained, “Sorry, but you know, coronavirus…” and she said this to the owner of each property we visited.
Time to leave…
That night, while watching the news, we could see the number of cases had started to climb, and there was talk back home in London that lockdown was imminent. The popular Brazilian novela ‘Amor de mãe’ announced that they were stopping filming due to the virus. Things were getting serious. While people on social media were looking at our beautiful beach photos saying, “you should just stay there and wait it out”, the reality of doing that is very different when you’re staying in a hotel, in a town that’s almost two hours from a major city, where all the bars and restaurants and modes of transport would likely soon close, with no idea when they would reopen again.
Watching Brazil go into lockdown
On March 18, we got on a bus back to Natal. The windows were all open, blasting wind through the bus. We were all sitting pretty close together, but the strong breeze felt cleansing, and we all hoped that if anyone in the bus had the illness, the wind would somehow blow the germs away. We left Natal the next morning and overall, the city still felt normal. There was traffic in the streets, businesses were still open, the sun was shining.
As we got closer to Fortaleza though, things started to feel different. The traffic started to thin out. Every town we went through felt more empty. People on the bus were getting edgier. Using the toilet onboard made you feel completely paranoid – it was virtually impossible not to contaminate your hands one way or another – on taps, on soap dispensers, on door handles… We arrived at the bus station and couldn’t believe they were still charging people to use the bathrooms, particularly when we all really needed to wash our hands. Frustrated, we grabbed an Uber to our hotel in Meireles, one of the busiest neighbourhoods in the heart of Fortaleza. When we got there, the streets were deserted.
The hotel was nice enough, but we were glad to be on our way home.
On the home stretch…
The next morning we jumped on the 12-hour bus to Teresina. Things felt decidedly different by this time. People tried to sit as far apart from each other as possible. Almost everyone was wearing a face mask. Nobody was flushing the toilet onboard, for fear of touching a button that everyone else had already touched.
By noon, the bus stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant. Starving, we all jumped off, ready to eat. We saw a sign on the closed doors stating that under state law, all restaurants had been closed due to the coronavirus. Instead, all the passengers crammed into a nearby tiny store to buy crisps and biscuits and bottles of water. We kept on driving. At another bus station, two nurses got on the bus and told us that no passenger could leave the vehicle for any reason along the rest of the journey, until we reached our stop. They were wearing face masks and protective aprons. They put hand sanitiser on our hands. More passengers got on the bus and things started to feel cramped. Our levels of anxiety started to rise…
Once back in Teresina, we felt like we could exhale. Renato’s mother and our dogs were waiting for us at home. She’d cooked a delicious meal, we could have a shower and relax. We sat in the dark, drank beer and caipirinhas and listened to music together. There was such a feeling of safety and security in being behind closed doors. The streets outside had never felt so quiet. The neighbours weren’t even blasting music out the windows like they normally did on a Friday night. The silence was eerie.
Leaving Brazil behind
A day or so later, I took a 4am flight down to São Paulo Guarulhos airport, so I could fly out to London. The country’s busiest airport felt akin to a library. Some flights seemed to have nobody waiting to board, while others had particularly long queues. The next day, Brazil’s borders would close to inbound passengers from coronavirus hotspots. Presumably tourists were getting out before the outbound flights started to dry up.
I left Brazil with mixed feelings. Respect that people were taking it seriously and staying inside. Fear for those who wouldn’t get the medical treatment they deserved. Sadness for the loved ones I had left behind. Frustration to not know when all this would be over and I could return.
And so now we all sit in our homes and wait. We look at the numbers. We look at the news. We look out the window, at the sunshine, and we realise what we took for granted. We place phone calls to people we’ve been too busy to speak to until now. We find new ways to connect with others and ourselves. We think of ways to fill the time. We dream of things that we will do when this is all over. We take stock.
Let’s hope that when lockdown has ended, we have a new appreciation for our lives, for the things that truly matter. Right now, social distancing has us all crossing the road to avoid one another. I hope that when this is over, we remember to stop doing that.
One of the songs we listened to that night in Teresina was ‘O dia em que a Terra parou’ (The day the world stopped) by Raul Seixas. Tears rolled down Renato’s cheeks as we listened, the words felt like a prediction. It really did feel like the world was ending.
The day the earth stopped
Tonight, I had a dreamer’s dream
Crazy I am, I dreamed
Of the day the Earth stopped
Of the day the Earth stopped
It was so
On the day when all people
From the whole planet
They decided that no one would leave the house
As if agreed across
The planet
That day, nobody left home, nobody
The employee did not leave for his job
Because he knew that the boss wasn’t there either
Housewife did not go out to buy bread
Because she knew the baker wasn’t there either
And the guard didn’t come out to arrest
Because he knew the thief wasn’t there either
And the thief didn’t come out to steal
Because he knew he would have nowhere to spend
The day the Earth stopped (êêê)
The day the Earth stopped (ôôô)
And in the churches, not a bell to ring
Because they knew that the faithful were not there either
And the faithful did not go out to pray
Because they knew that the priest wasn’t there either
And the student didn’t go out to study
Because he knew the teacher wasn’t there either
And the teacher didn’t go out to teach
Because he knew he had nothing more to teach
The day the Earth stopped (ôôô)
The day the Earth stopped (ôôô)
The commander did not leave for the barracks
Because he knew the soldier wasn’t there either
And the soldier didn’t go out to go to war
Because he knew that the enemy wasn’t there either
And the patient did not go out to be treated
Because he knew the doctor wasn’t there either
And the doctor didn’t go out to medicate
Because he knew he had no more disease to cure
The day the Earth stopped (oh, yeah)
The day the Earth stopped (that was all)
The day the Earth stopped (ôôô)
The day the Earth stopped
Tonight, I had a dreamer’s dream
Crazy I am, I woke up
The day the Earth stopped (oh, yeah)
The day the Earth stopped (ôôô)
The day the Earth stopped (I woke up)
The day the Earth stopped (woke up)
On the day the Earth stopped (just)
The day the Earth stopped (I didn’t daydream)
The day the Earth stopped (êêê)
The day the Earth stopped (the day the Earth stopped)
O dia que a terra parou
Essa noite, eu tive um sonho de sonhador
Maluco que sou, eu sonhei
Com o dia em que a Terra parou
Com o dia em que a Terra parou
Foi assim
No dia em que todas as pessoas
Do planeta inteiro
Resolveram que ninguém ia sair de casa
Como que se fosse combinado em todo
O planeta
Naquele dia, ninguém saiu de casa, ninguém
O empregado não saiu pro seu trabalho
Pois sabia que o patrão também não tava lá
Dona de casa não saiu pra comprar pão
Pois sabia que o padeiro também não tava lá
E o guarda não saiu para prender
Pois sabia que o ladrão também não tava lá
E o ladrão não saiu para roubar
Pois sabia que não ia ter onde gastar
No dia em que a Terra parou (êêê)
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou
E nas Igrejas nem um sino a badalar
Pois sabiam que os fiéis também não tavam lá
E os fiéis não saíram pra rezar
Pois sabiam que o padre também não tava lá
E o aluno não saiu para estudar
Pois sabia o professor também não tava lá
E o professor não saiu pra lecionar
Pois sabia que não tinha mais nada pra ensinar
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou (uuu)
No dia em que a Terra parou
O comandante não saiu para o quartel
Pois sabia que o soldado também não tava lá
E o soldado não saiu pra ir pra guerra
Pois sabia que o inimigo também não tava lá
E o paciente não saiu pra se tratar
Pois sabia que o doutor também não tava lá
E o doutor não saiu pra medicar
Pois sabia que não tinha mais doença pra curar
No dia em que a Terra parou (oh, yeah)
No dia em que a Terra parou (foi tudo)
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou
Essa noite, eu tive um sonho de sonhador
Maluco que sou, acordei
No dia em que a Terra parou (oh, yeah)
No dia em que a Terra parou (ôôô)
No dia em que a Terra parou (eu acordei)
No dia em que a Terra parou (acordei)
No dia em que a Terra parou (justamente)
No dia em que a Terra parou (eu não sonhei acordado)
No dia em que a Terra parou (êêê)
No dia em que a Terra parou (no dia em que a terra parou)
