Happy New Year!

Thank you all for helping make this year so wonderful. Here's a video to share some of the memories. Happy New Year!



Love,

Hilary and Dog Jensen

Muito obrigada: Thanksgiving in Jericoacoara

One expectation I had returning to Jericoacoara was that it would be as windy as it was in October. But, in contrast to previous years according to the locals, mid-November and December had lighter and more variable winds while I was there. It was definitely lighter than October. There was lighter wind and there were bigger waves, which made for a new challenge.

It was really fun to take the waves coming in. You have to put your foot in the back foot strap and carve up and down the wave like a snowboarder. The waves were pretty big and felt a bit like a gauntlet when I was headed away from shore. I would often go out and stay on the “outside” so I wouldn’t have to be pummeled by the shore breaks. Going out on waves that are coming in means you have to sheet out, balanced with having enough speed so you keep your momentum to go out. You also need to time your speed as much as you can with the breaks in the waves. If the wave is big enough and breaks in front of you, it’s that much harder to sail over. The wind dies momentarily too with the wave’s crest. And, the reason I’m going into this detail is because it also explains a little about my first “serious” injury windsurfing. I had to stop sailing as of Tuesday last week.



I was getting better at the waves and feeling confident and strong. A big wave broke in front of me and I had too much speed. I was catapulted up into the air. I must have looked pretty funny with my rag-doll arms spread-eagle. I closed my eyes as I fell back down. My board had turned upside down. My foot hit something and I thought I had broken a toe. I looked for an injury but saw nothing. I felt an intense pain, but with a few swares and the encouragement of more waves pummeling me (over and over), I kept sailing. When I finally reached the beach, I noticed my foot was bleeding. Unfortunately, I had a very deep long cut between my third and my fourth toe. When I stuck my foot under the sink to rinse it off, I felt sick seeing some serious meat and tendon.

It was Sunday and the only doctor in Jeri was on his day off (six day work week). The wind club arranged for a buggy to take me to a neighboring town called Jijoca. A friend was nice enough (thanks Gordon!) to come with me. The 45- minute drive was a little surreal. I felt anxious about what the hospital might be like and felt that it was really ironic that I was taking the gorgeous buggy ride over the dunes because “I had to.” Gordon distracted me with stories about windsurfing places. We arrived at the “hospital” which is probably better called a clinic. Two nurses quickly greeted me and looked at my foot. As they explained that it would need sutures, Gordon and I conjured up the words for anesthesia and antibiotics. They laughed, probably looking at my eyes getting big (with visions of the Midnight Express in my mind). They asked me my name and promptly called the doctor in. I think this made me even more in shock. Having been to emergency rooms in the US, I would never expect to be met by the doctor within minutes of arrival. But in fact, the casually dressed doctor came in wearing his jeans, his gold bracelet and necklace and white hospital scrub-shirt. He smiled, and then frowned when he realized I spoke so little Portuguese. He smiled again when he asked where I was from and I answered, “Estados Unidos, California, San Francisco.” He seemed proud. Then he looked at my toe. He shook his head and frowned again. Panic resurfaced and I began to search for a way to say, “You will not amputate!” in Portuguese… Gordon and I came back with a Portuguese sounding “anesthesia” and he smiled again. He brought out a muito pequeno (very small) needle and he anesthetized most of my foot. It was glorious. He cleaned the wound and then stitched it up. He wrote me a prescription (no allergies) for antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory. He asked me how old I was. He then asked me to write my name down. Then, I got in the buggy and left. That was it. And it was free. What a contrast to the U.S.

I am now back at home in San Francisco. With an open wound, I couldn’t windsurf and the doctors I met at Jeri advised at least 8-9 days out of the water for a foot injury.. I made some great new friends, and loved every minute I was at Jeri. It is still really nice to be home too.

See you soon. And Brazil, Icarai, Jeri: muito obrigada.

Here are some pictures of Thanksgiving, friends and the surrounds.

Buggy Ride from Icarai to Jericoacoara

Link for pictures:

BuggyRideFromIcaraitoJeri 11/08

Mais um

One more time, back in Brazil was just as good but different than my first trip to Jeri in October. Relieved that the election and navigation class were behind me, it was nice to be home for two weeks, but in a way I felt I needed a vacation I had packed so much in during the two weeks I was home. This trip, I was already in shape, knew the town and had a group of friends I would be able to hang out with. And I even knew some Portuguese.

Icaraizinho
I started my trip in an even tinier town called Icaraizinho-this means little Icarai-the town is so small it doesn’t really have it’s own name, and it shares the neighboring towns name. Three pousadas, 2 restaurants (that I could find) and flat water sailing to my heart’s content. I think one of the reasons I like sailing, windsurfing and sailing boats, is that it makes me very aware of the power of nature. I’m sure that sounds “new agey” and a little nutty; maybe I’ve been spending too much time thinking and being by myself. It’s true though-if there is no wind, I can’t sail. I know when low tide, high tide, full moon or a new moon will start and how it will affect my sailing. For example, with a new moon, the tides have much bigger swings, which means my walk to the water with my gear in the morning will be longer and hot.

Since Icaraizinho is much less developed, I shared the water with at the most seven sailors. I shared my hotel room with frogs, geckos and other crawly things that made me aware of nature too. The hot water consisted of an electric powered shower head that did not inspire me to adjust it while I was showering-even though I really wanted more than just tepid. I spent four, short days in little Icarai, which were very nice but enough since there are so few fellow travelers. The last night I was there, Icarai had a “For All” party-this is the word that I had written and spelled Foro on my last blog post. But it’s just me mis-hearing the pronunciation of two English words. For All, is popular music with Brazilian youth. The best I can tell, it’s Brazilian pop. The party was part of annual party that precedes the Icarai regatta. The fishermen spent the day painting their boats and repairing their sails in preparation for the race the next day. I could tell it was going to be a big party when I saw the 25-feet high speakers on a stage. To me it seemed very out of place for what I perceived as a placid little town. The music started around 10pm and went all night. Hundreds of people, young and old, came from neighboring towns in Ceara state. I checked out the party but not for long since I (not knowing about this party) had arranged for a buggy to pick me up at 8am to drive me up the coast line and through the mangroves back to Jeri.

The morning beach scene confirmed that it was a great party. The abandoned boat in front of my hotel had been converted into a mini-hotel. Hammocks hung from its cabin and the sleepy partiers dozed while the morning sun was still cool enough. Booths selling food and regatta mementos were quickly being filled by the local marketers.


“Fala Português?” “Pequeno.”

I met my buggy driver at my pousada. “Deus te ama” graced the dashboard. My driver was a charming, blonde, 6 foot 2, lanky local who spoke no English. I can make due at this point for the essentials like “banheiro” or “oi, como vai?” The locals seem very patient and not to be bothered by my not speaking Portuguese well at all. Luckily, we shared a love for music and his buggy was souped-up with a cd changer. We zoomed up the coastline on the beach, listening to Bob Marley and Peter Tosh during the 5 hour drive. We stopped at a turtle sanctuary. It was a bit sad. There were 5 tanks with different kinds of turtles-leatherback, olive are the ones I remember. One was missing a leg, which had gotten tangled in a fishing net. The Brazilian government is trying to use this as means to educate the locals, but with such a poor area with little else but fishing, I felt that the locals might not feel like they had the luxury to take care of the turtles. I couldn’t help but think my using the beach, as a road does not help the sea turtles either. And it’s true-local officials have now put yellow bollards to signal the area on the Jeri beach that should not be used as a road. Because no one regulates it though, it is still a thoroughfare.

I arrived in Jeri with enough time to have a café con leite, say hello to a few friends and get out on the water. I had made the right decision to go to Icarai and try something new. I also made huge progress on my jibe with the easier conditions. But being back on a high-wind day confirmed that not only am I a nature lover, but I’m an adrenaline-junky. Jeri is like windsurfing black diamonds, and Icarai was like a groomed run.

Here are some pictures to share the fun:

Gobama!

I am so glad I returned to the US and San Francisco for this monumental election. I spent the evening with a couple groups of friends. Jane and Rebecca from Boardsports warmed up my evening. I was with my sophomore year roommate and close friends to watch the acceptance speeches. What a night!

Pictures from Jeri

Jericoarcoara surrounds

58 Kilos

Some of my fellow windsurfers read my blog and suggested that I wasn't
giving all of the detail. To some extent, I wasn't experiencing all
that Jeri had to offer, so its not as if I held back the saucy
details. Since my first few weeks focused on getting fit again, I
spent my days sailing twice a day for 2-4 hours. I would have a
caiparinha at the end of the day with the group of Germans who
generously "adopted" me, go out to dinner and then be in bed by 10. I
would wake up at 8 am and start again. With new energy and more new
acquaintances, I began to feel really comfortable in the town and take
part in the night life.

10pm is when dinner typically winds down and many sailors, tourists
and townspeople walk down to the beach. The mobile bar lights reveal
the list of drinks to choose from: caiparinha's, caiparoskas,
maracujaroska's, Hi-Fi's, Jameson's, Teachers…etc. Some nights are
much busier than others and it tends to correspond to the weekend, but
the schedule reminds me of my university days-if there was a big party
the night before, the streets are relatively slow the next day.

Because the town is so small, the night clubs alternate evenings for
parties. Mama Africa, PlanetaJeri and Fofa(sp?) are the main clubs.
The custom is for the locals to go to bed after dinner and then wake
up again around midnight or 1am. The party doesn't get started until
2am. In the month that I spent in Jeri, I never successfully made it
to any of the clubs, choosing to be fresh for early morning sailing
over a hangover on the day after they had their parties. The start
time is true for the street parties too, but I did successfully stay
out for a few of these nights-despite the impaired sailing the next
day.

10 pm: Mobile bars line the street leading up to bars and restaurants
with actual buildings. Couples stroll the town, catch up in front of
the drink stands, browse the shops and get Gelada. People have
cocktails and the streets begin to fill. Wafts of hashish perfume the
air.

Midnight to 5AM: Live bands play, mixing with DJ's from neighbor bars.
Guys play pool on weathered billiard tables just to pass the time.
Hundreds of tanned, tattooed surfers mix with dark, curvaceous Latin
women. Everyone wears flip-flops or goes barefoot. As the night
proceeds, it's not just the sand that makes people wobble as they
walk. It is all innocent, drunken fun. The occasional fight is all
posturing and is quickly broken up. All of the excitement gets
discussed the next day, whether you were there or not: the two girls
kissing and causing an excited crowd to gather in encouragement at
PlanetaJeri or the token crazy guy who dresses in a robe of aluminum
cans dancing with his metal rooster at Mama Africa. The same goes for
who hooked up with whom. It's a small community.

Men seem to outnumber women in the town. Maybe it is just because
women are at home taking care of kids. I liked this ratio, but for
those expatriate men who are cruising for young Brazilian girls, it
makes the competition tough. Windsurfing and kiting are also male
dominated sports, so the tourists coming to the town don't make the
ratios any better for the guys. That said, most of the tourist
population is twenty-something. There seems to be a good gender
balance within this age range. But, the older men are looking for
younger women. The thirty and forty somethings, have friendly
competition for the sultry, charming, Brazilians. The pursuit is more
successful if they speak Portuguese, I've been told. The men over 50
fall into a category to themselves. Whether they are cheating on their
wives who don't windsurf and aren't vacationing with them, they seem
to ignore their age and hope the windsurfing and caipiranhas make up
for their lecherous advances. There are NO banks to change money, so
you have to bring cash to Jeri. IF the restaurant you go to happens to
accept credit cards, you have to go to the grocery store to get the
payment processed. In other words, there is no need to use your last
name in Jeri. And this makes everything that much easier; except for
the windsurfing.

Despite the drinking and the eating, my pudgy 125 pounds turned to a
solid, muscle-bound 58 kilos. Still no perfect, consistent jibe,
which means I'm strongly considering going back after my navigation
class, the election and my birthday. Anyone want to join me?

Re: (my very tiny) War Within

(my very tiny) War Within

This tiny little, sand-filled town has 150 pousadas, two churches, two
cemeteries and one very large police station. The police station and
its grounds look bigger than the four-block town combined. It is
surrounded by a high fence and barbed wire. When I saw it, I wondered
what this town could need with such a big station. I'm still not sure
but I've gotten a couple of hints.

The state that Jeri is in, is the poorest state in Brazil. From what
I've observed, Jeri abundance is an exception to the rule for this
area. I took a buggy (pronounced boogie, like boogie nights) out of
Jeri a week ago. The towns were barren. Wild donkeys and pigs
scavenged the sand for grass. Wind has brought some wealth to Jeri,
and with every week that passes, more tourists seem to arrive.
October through December is high season due to the wind and holidays.
I've heard a few people mention that the police keep the town crime
free. I certainly feel safe any time of night walking around alone-I
still don't do anything stupid. In talking to a few residents here, I
learned that you know you have "officially become a Jeri resident"
once your house has been robbed. It's easy enough to figure out who
"did it." The police bring the criminals to your house. You can buy
back the things that were stolen. And the three parties negotiate an
ongoing protection fee.

The police showed up on the beach today to greet the Brazilian
coastguard who were surveying the area. Seeing rifles on the beach was
disconcerting and attracted my attention. Life went on as usual,
though, and the fishermen sailed in, hauled their boats on to the
beach and sold their catch to the townspeople. They fish with nets,
which necessitates hand-sorting the fish. They separate the kinds of
fish on the different parts of the boat after they've untangled them
from the net. Big mouth fish at the front, tiny silver fish piled at
the back and the really long ones in the middle. Relaxed negotiation
goes on for about a half hour as the townsmen check out the catch and
decide what they want for dinner. Sometimes they clean the fish right
on the beach. The beach dogs wait around to see if it's their lucky
day.

I recently finished Bob Woodward's, " The War Within." It is a great
exploration of the Bush administration management of the Iraq
invasion. Today, windsurfing out on the water, felt as close to being
at war as I hope I'll ever experience. 25 knot winds picked up early
in the morning and flattened me while I was offshore. My fear quickly
degraded my sailing ability, but I made it safely back to shore,
exhausted. I can now understand why the windsurfing companies name
their equipment stuff like, "Combat," "Zone," and"Alpha." With the
added camouflage fashion trend, the helmets some sailors wear, and the
amount of focus we all give to the size of our sails, harness lines
and equipment rigging, it's easy to think this is my own little war.
And I'm on the warpath for a jibe. My mission has not been
accomplished, but I've made headway. I have seven more sailing days
if I don't get injured. No matter what, my sailing skills have
increased ten-fold. I am about 99% at water starts again, which really
helps. Please cross your fingers.

AND, by the way, I'll be celebrating my birthday at my place on
November the 8th. Please look for an evite soon.

Hilary

Mobile

I climbed to the top of the sand dune named alligator tonight to take in the sunset. For the past two weeks I’ve seen the tourists ascending to the top to watch the sunset. Instead, I’ve spent my sunset-time at the Club de Ventos (Wind Club), drinking a beer and exchanging stories with fellow windsurfers.

It’s a special view from the top of the big dune. The scene is what I imagine about burning man, only northern-Brazilian style. As I walked there, dogs barked and chased each other, excited by the people gathering and trudging up the dune. As I watched the sun set, people did some pretty entertaining things. Sandboarders (like snowboarders but only on sand) took their turn careening down the dune. A man did acrobatic flip flops all the way down the dune to the excitement of the crowd (in a Speedo). As the sun set, I looked the other direction and saw the full moon rising (I am not quoting a song here). We all descended while the wind whipped the sand against us. I began thinking about happy hour…and that’s where mobile comes in.

So many things have different meanings here. I had learned sailing with two Brazilian guys in San Francisco, that the word for “pull” in Portuguese, is pronounced “push" (v. puxar). It made for an interesting day out on the bay with the rudder commands. Mobile also has a very different meaning here. I have not had cell phone coverage since I arrived, making it my 15th day without a phone. I am still trained to listen for the sound of the phone though, so any similar sounds make me feel like a Pavlovian dog as I look around for my iPhone. Now, mobile has an even better association. As the sun sets, the mobile bars are wheeled out to the beach from nowhere. The “caipiranha boys” make fresh drinks to take along on your stroll down the beach or into town. For a $1.50 you get a potent drink to ease the pain of the windsurfing-day.

By now, I have a pretty regular routine. I walk down the beach every day to the Wind Club. There is no hotel, just a kitchen and a bar and hundreds of sails and boards to choose from. All new equipment arrived two days ago. JP Australia boards, Neil Pryde booms and sails. The open-air beach club opens at 9:30 am and many of us stroll in and pick our “regular” spots. Some prefer baking in the sun; others like me prefer the shade or a hammock to recover from the sailing. It’s a very friendly and diverse crowd of all ages. Music plays all day long with a really good variety of Brazilian and US/British tunes we’re all familiar with. I sail twice a day, starting on the earlier end so I can try to get some practice in with lighter wind. By 1:00 the tide has come in and the waves and wind are full throttle so by then I’m just concentrating on making it over the waves and getting back and forth. I’m not the worst sailor, but the best are amazing. Every day I see guys and girls do the super-cool tricks that have names like “Spock, “ Vulcan,” and the best of all: the loop. I didn’t know before I came here that the loop has a “forward” and a “backward” version. I’ve said I could consider my life complete if I did a loop-and I still think it’s true. Only now I have to say, a forward loop. I hope I have a long-life ahead of me.

And to round things out, for those of you who mailed after my last posting, the answers to the top 5 questions from my last blog post:

1) Are there alligators in Jericoacoara? There are no alligators in “Alligator taking sun” aka Jericoacoara. Evidently the sea-tired sailors thought the sand dune looked like a giant alligator as they approached from the Atlantic.

2) Have I made friends here? Yes, many acquaintances and lots of people to go out to dinner with. Most tourists are European-and most think I’m German until I look at them dumbfounded as they rattle off questions to me in German.

3) Do I know how insane the market has been while I’ve been gone? Yes, it’s crazy and now when I talk to Argentineans, I ask them about what to do when your currency gets devalued and you can’t get money from banks. (I know it’s not that bad but sheez!)

4) What is Mr. DJ doing while I’m gone? My dog walker is taking care of him-he gets walks twice a day while friends of a friend stay at my place. He has lots of company. I miss him a lot.

5) What am I going to do for the next 1.5 months of leave after returning from Brazil? I’m not sure just yet, but some time home will be good. I plan to take a navigation class that will get me closer to getting my offshore-skipper license. I will definitely go visit my brother in Hawaii for a bit.

Alligator taking sun

Today ends my first week in Jericoacoara. I’ve learned that the Germans aren’t the only ones with long words that mean a lot. Jericoacoara is Potuguese for “alligator taking sun.” The town is named after a large sand dune that dominates the North side of the beach. I’m careful to use my sunscreen, to prevent me from looking like the alligator taking sun when I return. So far, so good.

After 36 hours of travel time to get here, I’m glad I’m staying for a month and very glad I came. I flew from SFO to Miami to Rio de Janeiro and then flew back up the country to Forteleza. I was met by a 4WD taxi which took me the four hour drive across little towns and then 20KM of white sandy beach to Jeri. We only got stuck once. Some kiters helped us out by standing on the back of the car to add traction. After spending a week here, I feel like I have the potential to become a character in my favorite book, 100 Years of Solitude. Jeri feels a lot like I remember Macondo-time doesn’t seem to pass.

Wind! My first day sailing in Jeri was Wednesday. The wind lived up to its reputation, pummeling me and my overpowered 4.5Meter sail and reminding me I hadn’t windsurfed much for the last year. Humbled by the Brazilian women’s national team whipping back and forth beside me in their Brazilian thongs, pink sails labeled with their names and BRA, I hoped I wasn’t in over my head. First day aside, I have learned where to sail, how to sail in these conditions and even enjoy the waves. By the second day I was back to normal, in the straps and planing at very high speeds. And the Brazilian national team left. ☺ The adrenaline rush of that first plane was all I needed…to sail more and more.

Jeri the town is charming. It’s four blocks of sand roads (no pavement) are packed with restaurants, pousadas and sailors. I am also pleased by the number of happy and healthy doggies I see-there is even one who looks a lot like DJ. I think he would like it here too.

Anticipating Wind...

Jericoacoara: or “Jeri” as it’s fondly known as, is a beach located on the Northeast coast of Brazil, in the state of Ceara, 300kms west of the state capital, Fortaleza. Being very close to the equator line, Jeri has warm weather and warm water all year-round. Until about 20 years ago, it was an isolated fishing village without any contact with modern civilization. There were no roads, electricity, phones, TV’s, or newspapers. Money was something almost useless since most dealings were based on trading fish for goods. In 1984 Jeri and the surrounding vicinity was declared an “Environment Protection Area” by federal law, limiting building. Jeri was first discovered as a travel destination by backpackers and more adventurous travelers. Slowly, the word has spread and travelers of all types are enjoying this little Shangri-La in South America.

Costal Passage: first time out the Gate

I had a wonderful weekend sailing outside the gate for the first time. We set sail around 7pm on Friday, reached the Farallones at 2am and then headed to Half Moon bay, sailing all night. What an experience. We had good wind the second day, Sunday, but had to motor for the first night. I was lucky not to get seasick.

We had an all female crew-which was fun. Our instructor Thomas Perry was outstanding. We stayed on the water for 2 whole days. No touching land-another first for me.

I learned an incredible amount about sailing-and loved being out on the open ocean. I can't wait to take the navigation class which is the next step.

Here are some pics to share the experience:

Run, sail, think...

Friends and family,

Tomorrow is the official start of a three month leave from Google. I'm excited and anxious at the same time. The number of people who have said, "Have you read "Eat, Pray, Love..." when I tell them what I'm about to do is about 9 out of 10. :) I feel very fortunate that I work for a company that has the forethought to allow employees to take time off when they need it.

I've started my break by starting to run again. I love taking DJ out to the park and to Crissy. When I hit my stride, I'm happiest.

Next weekend I sail for the first time beyond the Golden Gate. I'll spend the weekend as crew. My instructor says that 100% of people get seasick, so here's hoping the scopalomine works (behind the ear patch).

Then I'm off to Jeri, Brazil for a month to windsurf. I'll be back in time for the election. Please vote often.

Love,

Hilary

Saling on the bay