I played the victim again for a night and looked for Cândice’s support, I allowed myself to cry. Then, during our conversation, she made me realize the wish, still unconscious, of travelling the world.
- Paula, you need to take your focus off him and focus on a project of your own. Think of a dream you want to come true, do something to make yourself proud. While he’s living his life, no one is living yours. What’s your biggest dream?
I went to my room, stood in front of the mirror and stared at my thin and careless face, and cried again. When I realized I was starting to feel sorry for myself once again, I dried my tears and stared at myself.
- Who am I? What do I like? What do I want? This has to be my focus now. I have to be my own project of life. What’s my biggest dream?
I booked a room in a hostel in Caraíva and packed a small backpack for the weekend. I wanted to go after my own answers. I didn’t know I had already started to travel the world, but I knew I wanted to go alone.
5 – THE DEATH
I got on the first bus to Caraiva on a Friday morning. The sky was completely blue and the sun had just risen, but it was already burning badly. I put on the headphones and leaned my head against the window. Even before the trip began, the tears came instantly and I began to wonder why I was still suffering so much.
Walking down the aisle, the other passengers avoided sitting next to me. It was as if that seat was booked for myself. Then, mentally, I began to explain the root of my own suffering.
I felt like I was mourning for someone. It was as if his life had ended, as if Felipe had died. But I felt strange because the man I loved was still alive. Until I realized that someone had really died: me. At that moment a deep sob got into my chest and the pain was stronger than ever.
I was used to being that woman, I knew exactly what she had to do and how she should act. I already had all the plans for her life made and then I couldn’t live any of it. It was as if my spirit watched everything through the veil of death. Another couple came into our house with our furniture. My dog was still there, the new car continued its journey, the hormone injections were paid, but the treatment wasn’t over. My husband was in the city where I should have gone. Everything was still there but me. It was as if my soul wanted to go back to life, but my body was no longer there to get it. I became a ghost of myself.
It was about time to accept that ego had died. That wife no longer existed. That son would never be born and his mother never existed. I needed to mourn my own death to find out the woman I’d be from there.
I cried during the 40-minute journey and got into the canoe across the Caraíva River to the village carrying lots of pain and a decision: to bury the woman I had been in Caraíva so far.
Many people had already told me about Caraíva, but I couldn’t imagine that magical place. The different energy I felt as soon as I stepped into the town. It was actually a village, there were over a thousand inhabitants and it’s one of the oldest fishing villages in Brazil. Its location – between the river of the same name, the sea and an ecological reserve – doesn’t allow cars. The streets are made of soft sand, so it’s impossible to even cycle there. Horses only drag carts when it’s necessary to transport stuff the residents, B&B’s, and restaurants owners have bought.
I left my backpack in a room full of beds and walked along the empty beach, getting my feet wet in the waves of the sea until I found the river. I chose a wooden chair and refreshed myself in the freshwater. I drank some coconut water, played the Brazilian singer Marisa Monte on the speaker, and spent the afternoon feeling the warmth of the sun and diving, sometimes in the sea, at times in the river.
During the sunset, I sat on the sand and tried to capture the beauty of that light in my mind. Why is it so hard to remember the details of that magical afternoon? I could relive those minutes many times. I said a farewell prayer, allowing my old self to go away peacefully, and went back to the hostel.
The hostel’s owner told me the village tradition on Fridays was Forró of Ouriço[4] but before that there’d be a birthday celebration at the Caraíva Republic Pub and I was invited to join her friends. It was already low season and there were almost no tourists there.
I didn’t feel awkward at any time. I met more people who left their office lives to live with sand on their feet. I danced funk, drank Netuno,[5] and in forró’s time, the pub owner turned off the music, turned off the lights, and forced the entire party to migrate to Ouriço’s bar.
I danced less than I would like to in my first forró in Caraíva, but I still had a lot of fun. When I realized an extra glass of Netuno could make me forget a part of the night, I grabbed a bottle of water and had fun dancing and laughing with Dani, a crazy and free Baiana[6] who was a gift from the universe.
Next day I woke up anxious. I couldn’t understand the reason why for that emotional instability. I packed my backpack and tried to run away from myself. I crossed the river and got on the bus, determined to go back to Trancoso. But, Dani, the crazy and free baiana who I had met in the forró place, was on the same bus and shouted my name.
After explaining to me that she was looking for me in the forró place, she said she lived in Arraial d’Ajuda and invited me to stay in her house. I understood that reunion as a message from the universe and I didn’t even get off the bus in Trancoso. I leaned my head against the window and dove into my own thoughts once again.
If I had buried the woman I used to be in Caraíva, I needed to find out what kind of woman I would be from that moment on.
My previous identity had been built on someone else’s foundation. When that person was gone, everything I was collapsed. This time, I wanted to rebuild myself the right way. Then, looking at the dust from the road through the window, I began to think of the woman I wanted to become, and I painted a picture of her in my mind: intelligent, independent, brave, confident, cheerful, humorous. I already knew this woman, I knew what it was like to be that Paula. She already existed and was sleeping somewhere inside me. I just needed to wake her up and was willing to do that.
6 – ASK SOMEONE TO DANCE
It was decided, Arraial d’Ajuda would be the lab of the woman I was recreating. After two beers at Dani’s house, we went to Beco das Cores, a charming street full of bars and tourists.
Still very tired from the trip to Caraiva, we drank a few glasses and sang old-school rock’n roll hits together with a great band that was performing there. I met Dani’s group of friends and we went home early.
On Sunday night, she took me to Forró of Santo Antônio.
I complained that I hadn’t danced enough in the forró of Ouriço, in Caraiva, because almost nobody had asked me to dance. Dani sent the message: “If you wanna dance, go there and ask someone to dance.”
I obeyed and decided that the new woman I was becoming would dance whenever she felt like it. Although I was never a good forró dancer, I found that I quite enjoyed the fun and energy of the dance. I stepped on the feet of some partners, but I’m sure they didn’t care.
That same night, in a different bar, I met one of the guys I had invited to dance again, and we had so much fun together after I got his name wrong twice.
4
Forró can be referred to either a type of party and dance – typical of the Northeastern region of Brazil – or a brazilian type of music. As the type of music the most common combination of instruments which is defined as the base of forró was the one created by Luiz Gonzaga; including an accordion, a triangle and a zabumba played by a trio. Some common types of Forró are Arrasta-pé, Xote and Baião.