Natal and Fortaleza

Natal

In only four hours (a joke!) we reached Natal, a cheerful tourist town halfway between Recife and Fortaleza. As usual, after getting off the bus we immediately gathered all the information about the ticket for the next destination, after which it was time to find accommodations. The information office was desolately empty, and we made do by gathering all the advertising flyers about posadas and hotels lying unguarded under the counter. Once outside the station, the usual line of taxi drivers assaulted us, and after a quick consultation we decided that the best solution, at least on paper, was to stay in the tourist area of the city, namely Ponta Negra. Fifteen minutes in the taxi and here we were at our destination, but finding lodging turned out to be harder than expected: options were certainly not lacking, but the problem was always the same... money.

To reach the posadas you had to leave the main road and go down the very steep side streets that led all the way to the sea. Our driver took us around the steep little streets to check the prices of the various accommodations: as we got closer to the center the prices went up, so we decided to stay in a hotel a bit out of the way but very nice and with a very reasonable price. Once we settled our things and took a look at the hotel, which even had a pool, we headed to the seafront to see the beach and then walk toward the center. Indeed, our hotel was quite out of the way and it took about twenty minutes to reach it. More than an actual center, it was a stretch of seafront where most of the restaurants, shops and nightlife spots were concentrated; don't expect anything grand, it all ran out within about two hundred meters.

Just enough time to realize what awaited us and we were already on the way back, stopping only a few minutes at a kiosk on the seafront for a well-deserved fruit smoothie. Once home, just enough time for a shower and we were already on the road back to the center to have dinner. Walking among the restaurants and reading the price lists, we had understood that most of them were not for us: we went into the only one that seemed within reach of our pockets. All things considered, dinner was decent and the price kept to the promises of the menu. After leaving the restaurant, not yet tired of walking, we went around the center area a couple of times, realizing however that the day was a bit sluggish and the streets almost empty; all that was left was to retrace the now familiar two kilometers that separated us from our bed.

We had set the alarm so we could take advantage of the breakfast included in the price, which would end at ten o'clock. The sun was high in the sky but it was only nine in the morning, and the alternatives at our disposal were not many: we could only take our towels and head to the immense beach provided to us by Mother Nature. The beach was very nice, not overly crowded but hit by a constant wind that at times became truly annoying, raising dunes of sand. Unlike Recife, there were no enormous skyscrapers ready to shade the beach in the early afternoon, but this time, partly because of an almost always cloudy sky, we still failed to satisfy our craving for sun. We lasted on the beach for a few hours sipping icy coconut water, then took refuge in our hotel pool to protect ourselves from the wind and sand.

In the evening, the usual shower and then already back to the center along a road that day after day seemed to grow longer. Perhaps because of the beach and sea, we were especially hungry, and the previous evening's menu certainly would not have been enough to satisfy our needs. We were convinced by a man along the road promoting his restaurant: he offered a "rodizio de camarão," that is, all-you-can-eat shrimp and more precisely eighteen types of dishes all based on shrimp. As we had already explained about the churrascaria, in this case too you could eat until you burst: once inside the restaurant they gave us a little flag to display above the table with two colored faces, green and red.

Green keep going, red stop! As long as the flag showed the green face, the waiters kept coming by the table and filling our plates with different dishes; the only way to stop them was to turn the flag over and show the red color: it was a hard battle, but in the end we came out with our heads held high, and before definitively displaying the red several hours had passed. Once we abandoned the battlefield, a walk in the center was a must: both to digest and to check whether the nightlife had already gotten underway. Indeed, even though it was a Monday night, there was no shortage of activity, the signs of the nightspots were lit, the DJ was doing his job, and after recovering from the feast we took the opportunity for the usual caipirinha.

Time flies when you're having fun; it was almost morning and we had to cover the endless distance that separated us from our hotel, so, strictly on foot, we retired to our bed.

The next morning the alarm did not ring; after the revelry of the previous evening there was no room even for a cup of coffee. We positioned ourselves directly at the pool, since the wind and sand would have made staying at the beach difficult. It was another day of clouds, clouds and little sun, spent almost exclusively in the hotel pool; we returned to the room in the late afternoon for a healthy shower and an even healthier rest: we were overcome by an unusual tiredness that increased even more at the mere thought that in the evening we would have to cover the whole seafront again to reach a restaurant in the center.

Over all these months we had learned one thing: when you're tired of walking the same road, it's time to leave it! That's how it was, the time had come to leave Natal, and the next day, after paying our debts, we headed to the bus station to board for our next destination: Fortaleza.

Fortaleza

With yet another night bus we reached our last destination on Brazilian soil: yes indeed, Fortaleza was the endpoint of the battleship Return to the Zero Parallel. We had gone back up much of the coast strictly aboard an unspecified number of buses; parking and unloading our bags in the Fortaleza station meant only one thing: end of the line! The classic information office this time too did not want to help us, and after a quick breakfast we sat down, confident that soon someone would show up under the "I" for information. All in vain; once we realized that no one would ever arrive, we hired the usual taxi driver, who led us in search of a posada. Our guide did not seem exactly a champion, since he had limited himself to only two posadas: definitely a bit too few to be able to make a choice.

Once in the center we dismissed our driver and, set down our backpacks, we headed further down toward the beach where countless hotels stood, and in no time at all we had found inexpensive and strategically located lodging. We retrieved our backpacks and reached the hotel on foot, and after the usual check-in procedures we took possession of our room. We were as usual destroyed, but this time in particular we had never closed our eyes, perhaps aware of the fact that this would be our last trip. We pulled the curtains to shield ourselves from the light and treated ourselves to a very rightful rest that ended only several hours later; when we woke up, darkness was already falling over the city of Fortaleza, and all that was left was to take a shower and go out to dinner.

The seafront was not far from our hotel, and we began walking along it hurriedly in search of a little place where we could appease our hunger. The choice, dictated by price, fell on a kiosk on the beach that in the end did not turn out to be too cheap either. As usual we were far from the lively area of the city, and around midnight the seafront in front of our hotel was practically deserted. After asking a taxi driver, we learned that to find a bit of nightlife we had to head to a neighborhood further north, about a twenty-minute walk away. We were absolutely in no condition to face a twenty-minute walk, and we did not want to spend money on a taxi: the forced solution was to go back to bed with the "magic box," hoping it would show some interesting movie.

Here too the hotel offered a succulent breakfast included in the price, so we set the alarm for nine thirty in the morning to head to the restaurant. Once out with full bellies, we were curious to get to know the beach and see whether at least here it would be possible to get some sun; it was certainly there, but along with it also a wind that was nothing short of arrogant, and moreover, just like in Recife, the coast was dotted with skyscrapers that at a certain point would certainly shade the beach. Back at our hotel a bit disheartened, we chatted with the receptionist and discovered that there was a pool located on the top floor of the building: thank goodness! We took the elevator and immediately went to inspect the battlefield, but when the doors opened we found ourselves in front not so much of a pool but rather a puddle of water no more than two meters in diameter.

There were no other alternatives, though, and all things considered, aside from the pool, the place was very nice: wooden flooring with comfortable lounge chairs where you could sunbathe, sheltered from the wind, and with a stupendous view of the city of Fortaleza...; we couldn't complain! Once we retrieved our swimsuits and towels, we finally managed to get a bit of sun, and to be safe we spent the rest of the day lying on the top floor of our hotel: posh! In the late afternoon, cooked to perfection, we went down to our room for a cold shower and a refreshing drink sipped in the relaxation of our bed.

In the evening the usual little shack awaited us for dinner and we certainly did not hold back; after a walk through the little markets along the seafront, we decided to set off to explore the area the taxi driver had told us about the previous evening: the lively area, where the nightlife was concentrated. Armed with patience, we began a long walk that within about half an hour led us to the place in question. It was a pedestrian street full of expensive restaurants and nightspots crowded with people. A few minutes were enough to understand that we were in a sort of open-air brothel where it was not even possible to walk without being blocked by the usual "little ladies" who insistently invited us into their places; perhaps the most dangerous thing, however, was the crowd of teenagers who, under the pretext of a small financial help, were ready to steal even your underwear.

We stayed in this place very briefly and then headed to Dragon do Mar, another "entertainment center" not far away. Here too there were lots of people, but the atmosphere was decidedly different: we stopped to drink something at the cheap little shacks along the street and listen to some music, only returning home in the morning.

Awakened by the usual alarm, it was time to have breakfast and return to the pool to sunbathe: since Fortaleza would be our last destination before Italy, we had decided to tan as much as possible. It was our second-to-last evening in Brazil, and we had decided to treat ourselves to a Lucullan dinner to celebrate our departure: what better way to do it than a churrascaria where we could savor a succulent picanha? No sooner said than done, washed and shaved we were ready for the big event, and by taxi we reached Spettus, a restaurant recommended to us by several people. The place was definitely up to our expectations: even too much so! As soon as we entered we realized that the venue was truly very posh and that we certainly would not get away with just a little money, but it was still the farewell dinner and we did not want to spare expenses.

Seated at the table, we were welcomed by a sommelier who brought us the wine list and offered us an aperitif. On an empty stomach, the aperitif, although it had a very limited alcohol content, had already knocked us over, and in a happy euphoria we got the party started: the corner to our right was dedicated to appetizers and sides that by themselves could have made an abundant dinner; to our left stretched the long table of desserts that at the mere sight was capable of giving you diabetes... it was going to be a hard battle! Once the waiters were set loose, the long procession of meat began, all strictly grilled over charcoal on long skewers on which it was impaled and browned.

In addition to the classic chicken and sausage, the churrascaria offered twenty types of different meat that could be ordered without limit, including choosing the degree of doneness: crazy!!! The waiters kept coming out of the kitchen with these long skewers full of steaming meat and, leaning at our table, they tempted us. After an exhausting match with knife and fork we were truly full: our belly seemed about to burst so much that we had to loosen our belts, our stomach had dilated incredibly and we were starting to get cramps: after painfully swallowing the last bites we had to raise the white flag. Panting but never tired, always dutiful, we even managed to gulp down some of the hundreds of desserts offered on the counter.

After a digestif that perhaps saved our lives, we asked for the bill, which surely was a heavy blow to our pockets but, if compared to everything we had eaten, decidedly reasonable: agonizing! It was unthinkable to go to bed in those conditions, so we took a taxi and had ourselves taken to the place from the previous evening to take a stroll and listen to some music. Back home it was not easy to fall asleep, and we had to roll around in our bed for quite a while before falling into Morpheus's arms.

The following morning the alarm did not ring because we were understandably uninterested in breakfast; after waking up in the late morning we went back up to the pool and spent the last day in the sun. During the whole day we were unable to get anything down, and only in the late evening did we drink a fruit smoothie and then head back to our little bed.

The next day the alarm clock rang more threateningly than ever to warn us that our adventure had come to an end, a year had passed and the time had come to return to Venice, to that airport where everything had begun. After breakfast we packed our backpacks and after one last glimpse of the city of Fortaleza in the late afternoon we took a taxi that took us to the international airport. We waited for the plane in absolute silence while images of a year spent crisscrossing the world ran through our heads. At eight-oh-five on a very sad fourth of October, the Associazione Ritorno al Parallelo Zero said goodbye to everyone and left, went home!!! The return included a long stopover in Lisbon, which we ourselves had wanted in order to have the chance to visit one last city.