When Mayara first told me I must someday find myself in her beloved Brazil, I was practically on the tips of my toes, ready to take up her offer. Little did we know that both disruptive plans and dystopian pandemics would get in the way. Yet after nearly four years of dreaming (and sharing moqueca or feijoada recipes on Instagram), I finally would get my chance to impose on her gracious hospitality. Shockingly to the both of us, I had never been to this major destination, a travel faux pas that she refused to leave uncorrected while promising me the best of Pará, her state at the mouth of the mighty Amazon basin. While the thought of Brazil in the average mind evokes images of Rio de Janeiro's touristy Copacabana or the colors of Carnival, I sought to make my first trip a purely local and practically indigenous introduction to South America's largest nation. This was a region virtually unknown to international tourists, lacking critical infrastructure and language services for foreigners. Yet domestically renowned for its cultural diversity and unique cuisine, Mayara's home city of Belém seemed almost too qualified as a destination for me, even more so given that I would also be in town just in time for the region's largest religious festival and cultural event, Círio de Nazaré. My brief two-week respite from work would likely be anything but restful, as Mayara already had a whirlwind plan of family activities and local festivities in mind, keeping me on my toes like the national soccer team seconds from a goal.
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| Mayara and her classic tropical sense of style |
Descending upon Belém, the plane soared over a seemingly endless mass of emerald forest, cut across by river ways that twisted like glimmering anacondas in the afternoon sun. In the distance, a massive river divided the land in two, its opposite shore barely visible as the many branches of the Amazon delta's 235 mile-wide mouth slowly making their ways towards the Atlantic. The port city of Belém was situated on a jutting peninsula, a concrete jungle of mixed modern highrises and crumbling favelas starkly contrasting with its dense organic surroundings, serving as the gateway to the region of Amazônia. Exiting from the airport felt nostalgic, immediately being slapped in the face by a fist of hot humid air that signaled a return to the equatorial environment. Mayara looked as youthful and timeless as always, practically golden skinned under the afternoon sun. It seemed surreal to see her again after all these years, zipping around in her natural environment and narrowly dodging obstacles in Belém's chaotic streets after a day of local elections. Her spacious flat was located on the 14th floor of a white highrise, in a part of town she dubbed the "border" of rich versus poor, with extraordinary balcony views of the city and the Guama river in the distance. To the right, tall narrow highrises sprung up like trees, while to the left, a low lying neighborhood of decaying brick and corrugated tin roofs extended to the river bank. Beyond that lay the wild and exciting rainforest. Far from the silence of Californian suburbs, the hum of Belém was one of constant raucous vivacity, as car horns and rhythmic music collided with the booming speakers of drive-by advertisements and random exploding firecrackers extending late into the evening. It was like living above a perpetual block party, as many people spent the afternoon sitting around and socializing in the streets. After two days and three flights, we spent that evening relaxing and reminiscing over the last four years, before us a veritable buffet of local sweets and heaping bowls of fresh unadulterated açai. Bem Vindo ao Brasil!
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| Soaring above one of the Amazon delta's many snaking rivers |
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| Belém Do Pará, Gateway to the Amazon Basin |
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| View of the Guamá River and residential areas from Mayara's balcony |
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| Welcome spread of guava/cupuaçu/cassava sweets, acerola juice, and açai |
Mayara's parents were a truly loquacious and rather comical couple, her father a boisterous former military man with a soccer obsession and her mother a bubbly former nurse full of dramatic vocal effects. Living on the 8th floor in the same building, their presence was frequent and sometimes unexpected (sometimes to Mayara's annoyance). They dropped us off the next morning along the waterfront, a pier crowded with rustic wooden fishing boats that had just arrived with the early morning catch. Swarms of white herons and black urubu vultures took flight above in search of leftovers above the century old colonial Mercado Ver-O-Peso, one of the oldest and largest open markets in South America. Like a massive Amazonian bazaar, the riverbank was divided into a number of tarp covered sectors filled with the riches of the rainforest. Massive meter-long fish like filhote, pirarucu, and tambaqui piled beside mongers wielding long machetes that hacked through their Jurassic bones. Stalls were decked in a colorful array of tiny bottles containing herb-infused oils, folk medicines, and magical concoctions for every scenario (including an exam-passing potion for the anxious college student). The fruit market exploded with the sweet fragrances of passion fruits and mangoes, along with stacks of papayas, guavas, avocados, and bananas on large tables besides buckets of cashews and Brazil nuts (more specifically "Pará nuts", as Mayara fiercely defended). Some stalls were devoted purely to purées, a full menu of freshly squeezed tropical fruit pulps that could be mixed with water to create refreshing juices and nectars. A number of local fruits I tried, including the tart cupuaçu, tangy bacurí, and sweet acerola, were totally novel to my culinary palette, a thrilling morning treat for someone like myself who grew up gorging on the sweet bounty of the tropics. Much of the market was devoted to the processing of the region's primary staple, cassava. Also known as yucca, manioc, and mandioca, every part of the plant from the roots to its leaves is actually lethally toxic, with lengthy cooking and boiling times required to fully rid any edible products of natural cyanide compounds. The most distinctive regional product of the shopping experience was certainly fresh açai, the glossy rich purple pulp of a particular palm berry endemic to the eastern Amazon. Marketed in the US as a miracle "superfood" and sold to affluent elites at premium prices, it seemed surreal to see a liter of fresh unadulterated açai being sold for a few dollars to a population that consumes copious quantities on a daily basis. Heavy and earthy with a slight floral aftertaste, açai in Belém was not reduced to being a mere frozen yogurt topping, but rather an entire dish in itself. Eaten from deep bowls, it was mixed with crispy puffed tapioca or toasted farinha (cassava flour) to create a crunchy and filling pudding that left one feeling remarkably satiated (and stuffed with antioxidants). Mayara explained that açai could only be truly tasted and enjoyed fresh, for after a week it would turn sour. Nearly 85 percent of the world's açai came from northern Brazil, although most of it was consumed locally due to local demand and challenges with exportation.
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| The historic Ver-O-Peso market and fishing docks |
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| Hacking into massive Amazonian fish with a machete |
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| An array of rainforest nuts and seeds |
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| Magical potions and oils for almost any ailment or predicament |
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| Tucupi, a broth extract from cassava, must be cooked properly to prevent cyanide poisoning |
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| A stall for cachaça, the national sugarcane based liquor and base for the caipirinha coctail |
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| Guavas are native to Brazil and a popular fruit |
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| Vintage records and CDs under a vintage iron gazebo |
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| Exploring the largest outdoor market in South America |
After sampling a crispy unha, Belém's special crab-filled coxinha (fried croquette), we walked to the historical Estação das Docas, the original riverfront trading dock complete with vintage cargo cranes that once loaded onto ships the vast resources extracted from across the Amazon basin. The once disintegrating warehouses had been renovated and restored, creating an open dining and entertainment area featuring chic restaurants and microbrewery, boutique shops, and live evening performances. After a refreshing açai and tapioca cone at Cairu, we crossed over to Point do Açai, a famous local restaurant specializing in classic indigenous dishes, where we stuffed ourselves with large fried chunks of salted pirarucu, farofa (toasted cassava meal), a tomato-onion vinaigrette, and of course, heaping bowls of fresh açai. After strolling through downtown and catching an Uber back to her flat, I noticed that throughout the entire city, nearly every street was lined with age-old mango trees reaching upwards of five to six storeys, each loaded with magnificent clusters of fruit that were essentially free for anyone to retrieve. Mayara explained that poorer people willing to climb these giants would collect the fruits and sell them in the market, a wonderful example of Belém's urban landscaping giving back to the community in ways that went beyond aesthetics. That evening, we relaxed in her plant-filled flat where the balcony doors were always open whether day or night, even to the occasional sound of booming thunder as a steamy downpour soothed us to the classic rhythms of carimbó.
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| Unha, a crab-filled croquette, is a popular street food |
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| Historical cargo cranes at the original trading docks |
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| Mural of an Amazonian native straining açai in a popular local restaurant |
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| Fried pirarucu fish and açai is a classic Para combination |
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| An example of the massive mango trees that fill the entire city |
At 7 AM, Mama and Papa Figueiredo picked us up in a small Mitsubishi packed with supplies - coolers, luggage, tools, and animal feed - to begin our hour-long journey north towards the family farm. While Mayara insisted that it was merely a small plot outside of Belém, I entertained myself with the image of a lush fazenda overflowing with fruit orchards and animals. It really wasn't that far off from my vision, a decent strip of land that extended from the roadside deep into the forest and filled with every possible tropical fruit tree imaginable. Serving as a small family getaway and Papa Figueiredo's personal agricultural project, the plot located on the island of Mosquiero in the Amazon delta was also like a private supermarket in the making for the family's produce, fowl, eggs, and flowers. Guava, cupuaçu, acerola, mangosteen, rambutan, avocado, coconut, citrus fruits... the list went on as Mayara toured me around. Many of the well-established trees still needed another year or two before they could produce fruits, yet many already possessed flower buds that promised a potential bounty in the coming seasons. Various species of chickens, ducks, and geese roamed freely around the land as we meandered through the strip. Nevertheless, the main purpose for coming out to the farm that day was to harvest the açai, the family's prized personal supply and the most ubiquitous tree on the property. A limber tree climber was already precariously hanging without any ropes from the tall skinny palms, bringing down Brazil's precious berries by the bunch. Marcia and her husband, domestic helpers that worked for the Figueiredo family, came from their tiny house down the road to assist with the harvest, which included washing and squeezing the berries using a motorized grinder. From the thin fleshy layer surrounding a rock hard pit, glossy purple pulp slowly dribbled into a collection bowl with the addition of some fresh water to adjust the desired thickness. That was essentially the extent of açai processing, for within minutes, we already had generated a couple liters for the lunch Marcia brought over in a baking dish. Her baked Amazonian fish steaks, the same filhote that Mama Figueiredo had purchased with us in Ver-O-Peso the day before, were steaming in a savory broth of tomatoes and local herbs. Adding a spoonful of Marcia's homemade tucupí, a bright yellow sauce of manioc extract and hot chilies, the meal was elevated to restaurant quality flavors that completely blew me away by its uniqueness. The entire lunch, from the fresh açai and flavorful fish to the jovial company and rural tropical setting made me question if Michelin rated restaurants truly deserved their stars. Following the rich homemade spread, we engaged in the traditional afternoon rest, hanging from hammocks suspended from the tin roof rafters beside snoring dogs on the cool patio tiles.
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| The humble farm house on Mosquiero Island |
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| Mama and Papa Figueiredo supervising the açai harvest |
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| Marcia's husband operating the juicer/grinder |
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| Lunch with the Figueiredo family and the freshest açai I've ever had! |
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| The fazenda has every possible fruit tree, chickens, ducks, and geese |
Mayara later drove us to a nearby beach restaurant overlooking the bay, where we chatted over pasteis (empanada-like pastries stuffed with shrimp) and a pitcher of fresh soursop juice. One waiter discovered I was American and began vigorously shaking my hand, flattering me as if he had suddenly been graced by a celebrity or cult icon. It was a charming moment to listen to him excitedly practice his broken English while being starstruck by my rare foreign presence, a touching encounter of Brazilian hospitality after only being in the country for two days. That evening, the Figueiredo family drove us around the island to show me some beaches at sunset before arriving at the little town of Mosquiero, where we took a light snack of tapioquinha (tapioca crêpes with coconut milk topping) from one of the street stalls in the small central square. After a long day, we retired for the night in the small farm property, a rustic and practically open air structure that easily welcomed an array of insects and geckos. I spent most of the evening squashing mosquitoes until giving up and letting a short sleep take over.
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| A beach on the Bay of Marajo |
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| Shrimp filled pasteis and a pitcher of fresh soursop juice |
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| The charming waiter that was obsessed with me being an American |
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| Night stalls selling tapioquinha |
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| Tapioquinha is a tapioca-based crepe that can have either sweet or savory fillings |
At 4 AM, we woke in a mad rush to get off the farm and back onto the main highway towards Belém before the peak of commute hour traffic could clog the only road into town. It was a long sleepy ride despite Mama Figueiredo's oddly perky demeanor and whimsical ramblings. After a breakfast of freshly baked bread and cheese at their flat, we cleaned ourselves up and drove down to the river bank where the small yet lovely Parque Naturalistico Mangal das Garças provided some wild entertainment. Iguanas, turtles, herons, flamingos, and a dazzling array of other colorful birds freely roamed around the park's lakes and footpaths. The panoramic view from the imposing lighthouse showed the true geography of Belém, a spread of tall narrow highrises surrounded by wide rivers and jungled islands making up the complicated network of the Amazon Delta. River boats of all shapes and sizes zipped their way along these aquatic highways, in many cases the only means of transportation for reaching villages upstream.
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| The farol lighthouse of the Mangal das Garças park |
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| Animals roam the park freely, including these massive iguanas |
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| Green parrots are a common bird in Belem |
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| A baby owl being rehabbed in the park |
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| A group of guará, or scarlet ibis, sunbathing on the lawn |
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| Classic toucans can be found all over the region |
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| Herons gathering by a cafe |
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| A boat cruising the Guamá River |
We returned to the family flat again, where Marcia prepared a succulent free range chicken stew with okra and carrots (more benefits of owning a farm), after which Mayara dropped me off at the Bosque Rodrigues Alvez enroute to her physical therapy session. Another zoological park, The Bosque was in fact a massive enclosed city block of raw rainforest, with towering trees, tangled vines, and agoutis free to roam the naturally beautiful grounds, so long as they remained behind the fence separating them from the surrounding urban sprawl (lethal animals were conveniently left out of this habitat entirely). For only fifty cents, one could leave the noisy concrete city and escape to a genuine Amazonian terrain, complete with its own microclimate, humidity, and scent. Having already explored the truly remote rainforests in the Venezuelan and Ecuadorian Amazon, The Bosque was both nostalgic and enthralling, a place I could easily spend hours wandering. After her physical therapy, Mayara took me around the corner to a street stand that was filled with people eating from traditional black-colored gourd bowls in small woven baskets. Tacacá Do Renato was a local hotspot, whipping up endless bowls of the Amazon delta's most iconic dish, tacacá. Rooted in indigenous cuisine, tacacá was a soup made from tucupí, the ubiquitous yellow extract of manioc and chilis, served along with a jungle watercress called jambú, salted river shrimps, and a few spoons of tapioca gel. Tart, salty, mildly spicy, and tongue tingling, this hot soup was a medley of robust tropical flavors unlike anything I'd ever had before, and surprisingly addicting despite the weather itself being hot and sticky. A five-dollar cuia of tacacá was our throat-soothing and belly-satiating conclusion to an exceptionally long day.
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| Escaping to the Amazon rainforest via The Bosque |
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| One of many trails filled with towering trees |
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| A pair of macaws preening on a samauma root |
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| A selfie just before being chased by this mischievous pair |
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| Enjoying bowls of tacacá by the roadside |
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| Tacacá is an indigenous soup of tucupi, jambu leaves, and dried shrimp |
Mayara planned a small day trip to one of the delta's islands across the river from her neighborhood, a large forested mass filled with a labyrinthine network of narrow riverways and secluded villages. Catching a small wooden ferry, we sped across the wide Guama river to the paradisiacal Combu Island, where one of the popular river alleys was lined with a collection of festive local restaurants and bustling bars perched along the shore on stilts, interspersed between dense groves of açai palms, towering samauma trees, and mangroves. Little wooden water taxis transported patrons between eating establishments and fazendas specializing in local agro tourism. Our first stop docked at a lush cacao farm owned by local entrepreneurial legend, Dona Nena. The story of her rise from a simple fish cook to renowned chocolatier felt as unbelievable as her chocolate products. Her fazenda was a veritable Eden of large cacao trees with slowly ripening pods hidden among the tropical emerald bush, along with small structures devoted towards the manual harvesting, drying, fermenting, and processing of cacao into fine chocolate and its byproducts. Almost every preparation was done by hand, and even in an Amazonian way, including using an indigenous tipiti basket for extracting moisture from the cacao seeds. The operation had grown to include a small and tastefully curated gift shop where one could observe local women molding and wrapping artisanal chocolates and other delectable gifts. We took a tasting tour that allowed us to sample the chocolate at all of the various processing stages, as well as try a few of her most acclaimed products, like a creamy dark chocolate brigadeiro covered in crunchy toasted cacao nibs and a light chocolate cake filled with organic cupuaçu fruit jam. Her hot chocolate was 100 percent dark and without milk, yet surprisingly not bitter, almost like a chocolate tea that truly expressed the essence of the fruit.
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| Old wooden fishing and transport boats at the port |
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| Approaching Combu Island with its many river restaurants |
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| Entering deep into Combu via a river alley |
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| Beautiful rainforest covers the island's interior |
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| Visiting Dona Nena's cacao farm and chocolate production site |
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| The farm's operations are entirely women-run |
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| A cacao pod waiting to ripen to become quality chocolate |
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| A look inside the very quaint chocolate "factory" |
After our tasting, we caught the boat going further into the island, passing restaurants teaming with domestic tourists gorging on seafood and beers while children played in fountains and pools sectioned off within the river itself. We turned the bend and arrived at one of the islands most bustling hangouts, the Chale da Ilha Combu, a massive rustic wooden structure that almost felt like a movie set from "Pirates of the Caribbean", consisting of multiple levels filled with tropical plants, floating tables, piped fountains, and childrens' fun pools. The whole place seemed unreal and was exceptionally loud, packed with large families and groups of friends, some comically intoxicated, with everyone thriving to the sounds of live music and sizzling platters of grilled fish. I ordered the refogado de carangueijo desfiado, a plate of seasoned "tok-tok" crab meat stuffed back into their small shells over rice, a truly delicious savory specialty that paired well with a sauce from yellow chilies.
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| The Chale restaurant is a popular joint and local secret of Combu |
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| Across the river bend are other restaurants and bars. It helps to have your own boat. |
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| The wonderful tropical aesthetic of The Chale |
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| Tok-Tok crab meat mixed with herbs and stuffed back into the shell |
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| The Chale lets you to swim while waiting for your food |
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| Stunning river scenes across Combu |
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| The Amazon delta is filled with hundreds of islands, rivers, and bays |
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| Traditional wooden boat and stilt structure with a towering samauma tree |
That evening, we met up with Mama Figueiredo and headed downtown to a holiday craft market set up prior to the biggest regional holiday of the year, Círio de Nazaré. The city streets down by the river front had been decked in twinkling lights and colorful decorations, seemingly grander and more elaborate than Christmas. The area near the docks had a frenetic fair atmosphere, filled with steaming food stalls and street performances pulsating with Afro-Latin rhythms. The craft market was a large tent of stalls featuring the finest folk handicrafts, religious arts, and chic fashion accessories sold by local artisans to large crowds in the midst of a holiday shopping frenzy. I immediately gravitated towards the Amazonian crafts being sold by real indigenous peoples sporting facial paint and feather headdresses that sent my anthropological senses whirling with excitement. The fabulous ethnographic pieces I truly desired would be impossible to bring back on a plane, forcing me to settle half-heartedly with just a simple beaded necklace from the Parakanã natives of the Xingu reservation. Outside the venue, a small stage with live music and an energetic local popstar bellowed out Pará classics, as well as Kaoma's timeless "Lambada", which instantly drew the crowd right into its catchy chorus.
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| The holiday craft fair featuring works by local craftsmen, designers, and indigenous artisans |
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| Pará is known for its folk carvings in light balsa wood |
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| An indigenous man of the Xingu River selling beaded jewelry |
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| Live music featuring carimbó dancers and Kaoma's classic "Lambada" |
If there's one artform that Brazilians have mastered, it is undoubtedly the art of partying. I later learned this when Mayara told me that our Friday would not begin at 8 AM, but rather 8 PM. We spent most of the day sleeping and lying around the flat before having "breakfast" at 6 PM and leaving to catch the first spectacle of the big holiday weekend, the Auto do Círio "theater". I initially imagined this to be some sort of performance in a theatrical venue until we went to Belém's old quarter, where thousands of people had crammed into its historic squares and narrow streets. Massive stages had been erected at various stations along a route lined with raucous partiers. Street stalls selling liters of beer, barbecue skewers, and fair foods were bustling with families and friends in the hot and humid evening air. We piled into one alleyway where the beginning of the "theater" started, an endless procession of dancers, musicians, and artists decked out in the most colorful, elaborate, and downright flamboyant costumes that represented Amazonian animals, Brazilian ethnic minorities, and mythological creatures. The air was pulsating with the drums and rattles of Pará's carimbó anthems, to which the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd sang along in a feverish atmosphere reminiscent of a soccer match chant. The overwhelming crowd flowed like a furious river, following the whimsical parade as it danced its way towards the main cathedral with colorful feathers and shimmering fabrics swirling with every dizzying spin. The energy levels of this small regional street party made me question how chaotic Carnival in Rio de Janeiro could truly be. The aspect that fascinated me the most about these festivities was the extent of ethnic fusion and religious syncretism that makes Brazilian culture so distinct. From the costumes and rhythms to the dances and pantomime, the visible influences of Amazonian spirituality, West African paganism, and European Catholicism collided in a way that somehow complimented rather than clashed with each other. Mayara explained that the tolerance of these three main cultural groups was the product of 400 years, fusing in a way that was attractive to a highly mixed population. She recounted the native Amazonian legend that the city of Belém was believed to have been built upon a giant primordial anaconda beneath the earth, and that should the snake ever move, the city would collapse. To win indigenous support and counter this danger, the Portuguese Catholics built two major churches in the city upon the supposed head and tail of the serpent in an effort to trap it. Sprinkle in some Umbanda orishas (African spirits) and The Madonna, then hopefully Belém will be sufficiently protected for centuries to come.
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| The Auto do Círio parade opened with a giant slithering anaconda |
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| Man representing indigenous Amazonians |
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| The Auto do Círio parade was started in 1993 by university students and performance artists |
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| Members of Umbanda, an Afro-Brazilian religion with historical roots to Yoruba slaves |
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| Costumes fusing native, African, and European elements |
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| Narrow streets in the old district packed with revelers following the parade |
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| Members of Candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian religion that worships orisha spirits |
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| A moving stage of local singers in front of the city cathedral |
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| Performance in front of the colonial Historic & Geographic Institute of Pará |
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| Giant street party in the plaza around the cathedral |
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| A woman dressed as Mama Amazonia, complete with anaconda |
The massive street party with folk theatrics continued to thrive past 10 PM, yet we needed to head over to another event across town. Mayara's friends had reserved a private box at a local nightclub on the river that was hosting an annual music festival featuring popular folk musicians, deejays, and a samba contest. After getting through holiday traffic clogging every street in the city, we arrived at Lambateria 2024 to the sight of hundreds of millennials and teens waiting in line to enter the city's hottest outdoor venue on the river bank. We chuckled to ourselves, feeling like VIPs skipping the mass crowds of "ordinary" people, to enter a chic setting of decorated sets, neon lights, food booths, and the ever-present pulsating bass that is the literal heartbeat of the club. Our little box was a roped-off platform that separated us from the sea of young people flowing between two stages. Mayara pointed out some notable local and national celebrities making their rounds in our section, socializing and posing for selfies as the crowds grooved to hip-moving Afro-Latin rhythms. Rather than waiting in lines that wrapped around the venue, we had access to a personal ordering service that saw drinks and food arrive to us within minutes. With only $4 caipirinhas and a supply of crispy crab coxinha to accompany my favorite Brazilian musical genres, I couldn't help but wonder if this was likely the best and most affordable music festival I'd ever attended. Mayara's colleagues were also an amicable group, despite not being able to communicate with me beyond simple broken English formalities. Where they lacked in words, they surely compensated in movements, displaying some of the most professional dance moves I've ever seen and quickly reducing American club dancing to monotony. The party reached its peak when Los Mirlos, a trending Peruvian cumbia band, took to the stage bringing a taste of the psychedelic Andes to the Amazon. Time flew by, and before anyone realized it, it was nearly 4 AM. Mayara and I technically left "early", for a whole weekend of back-to-back Círio festivities (and sleepless nights) awaited us.
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| A late night / early morning of hip-shaking grooves at the Lambateria festival |
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| The music ranged from Afro-Brazilian to Andean, samba to rock |
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| Gotta love $4 caipirinhas in the VIP section |
The festival of Círio de Nazaré, originating with the miraculous appearance of a self-manifested Virgin Mary statuette to a humble fisherman, has been a tradition of Belém since the late 17th century. As the region's patron saint, Maria de Nazaré was the most visible face of the city, from statues in every home and shopping complex to giant advertising billboards and random television segments. This year marked the 232nd anniversary of Maria's revelation, celebrated by the statuette's enthronement in a gilded glass shrine called the berlinda, along with its procession across Belém and suburbs over the course of three days by car, boat, and even a hand-pulled carriage. The holiday was the largest and most festive in the region, surpassing even Christmas and New Year's in terms of participant size and allocated resources, as the city annually hosted over 2 million people. The days leading up to the climactic second Sunday in October witnessed the city swell to maximum capacity, as devotees poured in by plane, vehicle, bicycle, and even on foot from all over the state of Pará and beyond. The most extreme cases of penance involved pilgrims crawling on their hands and knees for tens of kilometers following the path of the statuette's procession, often leading to bloody injuries despite family members laying down pieces of cardboard to ease the suffering. We headed down towards the docks to welcome the statuette as it concluded a massive aquatic journey along the main river followed by a hundred boats. Mayara was already decked out in her straw hat with rainbow-colored ribbons, an accessory that was donned by essentially every person that morning. With drums, rattles, tambourines, and brass instruments, hundreds of participants greeted the berlinda with loud invocations before marching down the main river front towards the Ver-O-Peso market. The spirited folk songs in praise of Maria de Nazaré and celebrating Pará culture echoed off of the tiled historic colonial buildings, with everyone passionately bellowing out the choruses. Colorful performers on stilts and marchers carrying totems with wooden boats and birds gradually grooved their way down a street packed with people dancing while simultaneously dodging street vendors and market stalls.
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| Greeting the arrival of the Maria de Nazare statuette |
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| A crowd of drummers in ribbon hats begin the parade through downtown |
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| Many kids wear colorful face paint and tropical birds on their hats |
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| The parade sings and dances its way through the Ver-O-Peso market |
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| Revelers on stilts carefully dance and dodge hundreds of participants |
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| Ribbon dancers carrying totemic staffs featuring boats and birds |
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| A large ceremonial barge makes its way to the fishing port |
The eve of Círio was one of the most captivating and intense religious experiences I've ever encountered in all of my travels. As we made our way downtown to join the procession of the statuette to the city cathedral, the density of the crowd increased ten times. Lightning flashing overhead, a warm monsoon-like downpour fell upon tens of thousands of devotees, tightly packed and drenched to the bone, with hands raised in supplication. It became nearly impossible to move in any direction as the pressure of steamy soaked bodies engulfed us. It seemed like an eternity waiting for the berlinda to arrive, with many standing in unbelievably cramped conditions for well over an hour to catch a glimpse of the sacred statuette. Suddenly, the crowd descended into a state of religious ecstasy, screaming in unison "Viva nossa Senhora de Nazaré, viva!" that reverberated off the highrises with a bone-chilling effect. Many devotees completely broke down into tears upon seeing the statuette, even from a great distance, a devotion that I greatly respected but an emotion that I would never fully comprehend. The passing of the berlinda eventually led to utter chaos, as thousands of people pushed forward to follow the carriage down the narrow street with virtually no room to walk nor breathe. Many devotees that had collapsed, either due to serious physical injuries or fainting from overwhelming emotions, were floated on rudimentary stretchers above the heads of the crowd to nearby medical tents regularly stationed along the route. Following her mother and aunt, Mayara grasped my hand tightly as we painfully pushed and pulled our way down the street one block at a time, desperately trying to not get separated and drown in the veritable sea of humanity. I was torn between feelings of fascination and fear, recounting typical news headlines of mega Hindu festivals in India or the Islamic Hajj, where hundreds of people have been trampled to death due to uncontrolled crowds. Just before the panic began to set in, Mayara was able to forcefully break through the wall of bodies onto a side street, allowing us to breathe and finish walking to her aunt's flat away from the masses. Her mother and aunt continued to flow with the river of souls, a torturous yet powerful penance for those seeking the blessings of Maria de Nazaré. Almost two hours later, they finished the arduous push through a couple more intersections to reach the aunt's flat, conveniently located in a building right on a street corner overlooking the processional route. A wrought iron fence separated the dense crowd from the building's open courtyard, where tenants could still watch the madness from a private and slightly more spacious location. Upon the arrival of the berlinda, the crowd began to scream and crush against the fence, people seemingly hanging on for their lives as I watched in both awe and horror from the other side. Water passed out by volunteers was sprayed like hoses upon the devotees in an effort to bring some minor relief to the hellish heat and torment of the penance. The exhausted family eventually retired to aunt's flat around 9 PM for some pizzas, desserts, and long awaited respite.
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| The chaos of devotees and pilgrims trying to follow Maria de Nazare |
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| One of many collapsed devotees being carried via stretcher |
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| The crowd bursting into prayers and tears at the sight of the statuette |
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| A bar bustling well into the early morning during the holiday weekend |
Maria de Nazaré was certainly not finished with her journey. The very next morning, we returned to the aunt's flat to observe the chaos once again, only this time in daylight and traveling in the opposite direction back to the basilica. Pilgrims proceeded while carrying wooden or wax effigies upon their heads, a variety of colorful votive offerings to Maria in gratitude for answered prayers over the course of the year. Some of these models included houses for the blessing of a shelter, or anatomical limbs as a symbol of cured ailments or injuries. One woman carried a frying pan, which Mayara suspected represented the blessing of opening a restaurant business, while another carried a wax cat, likely in thanks for saving a dear pet. It became a curious game trying to interpret the meanings of various offerings. Once the berlinda arrived again, firecrackers and confetti exploded in a colorful welcome, as the entire crowd began to chant devotional hymns with outstretched arms. From children to the elderly, nearly everyone was in tears of overwhelming emotions at the sight of the statuette, leaving me feeling somewhat awkward and rather left out of Maria's powerful psychological influence. Once the procession had passed, we went upstairs to the flat to find a table filled with traditional regional foods that had taken the family days to prepare. Maniçoba (braised pork in cassava leaves), vatapá (shrimp in a creamy coconut milk gravy), pato no tucupí (duck stewed with jambu leaves), roast pork with peaches, Brazilian lasagna, seafood farofa - the table for me was an altar upon which sat the sacred dishes that finally brought me to tears of joy during this holiday. The hours-long lunch saw the coming and going of various family and friends, with plenty of beers and tropical fruit juices to go around. Papa Figueiredo, who had participated in the penance procession, looked completely fatigued until the alcohol started flowing, suddenly transforming him into the loudest person at the party. As late afternoon approached, we returned to Mayara's flat where we proceeded to sleep off the massive lunch until evening. After a light snack bowl of açai, it was time to sleep again.
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| The return of the Maria statuette to the city's basilica |
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| The statuette in its gilded glass shrine is pulled by rope via hundreds of devotees |
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| Inside the fenced courtyard in Mayara's aunt's complex, protected from the crowds |
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| Cirio holiday lunch with the family |
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| A feast of traditional Amazonian dishes for the holiday |
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| Pork with cassava leaves, duck in tucupi sauce, creamy shrimp and more |
After a busy and sleepless week of sightseeing and holiday festivities, my second week with Mayara finally felt more reminiscent of an actual vacation given the relaxing pace (and plenty of post-lunch afternoon naps). Belém had gradually run out of major sights to see, leaving me the option of actually engaging in Brazilian daily life activities. We randomly popped into Mayara's aunt's flat one afternoon since we were "in the area", where a casual coffee somehow morphed into a light dinner with many of the leftover delicacies from the Círio lunch. We walked down the street to the basilica that houses the Maria statuette, the church overflowing with devotees who turned up for mass to once again view her. Outside the church, thousands of people flocked to the square to enjoy a holiday fair that had set up carnival rides, shopping booths, and snack stalls. We unexpectedly returned again to the aunt's flat for a round of desserts and gossip, the women of the family crammed into the narrow kitchen comically ranting about their husbands. The night air was warm with laughter, while also hot and humid as the average evening temperature never seemed to dip below 80 degrees.
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| The basilica at night, graced by a full moon |
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| A holiday carnival was set up in the basilica parking lot |
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| The women of the family gossiping over drinks and desserts |
Mayara took me to the historical city center, now spacious without the holiday stages and festival setups. We started at one of Belém's earliest structures, the old Portuguese stone fortress with its imposing canons before visiting a handful of small museums for indigenous history and religious arts occupying the halls of colonial-era buildings. Beside the elaborate city cathedral, we took a rather expensive lunch in the elegant colonial courtyard of the Palace of Eleven Windows, a former river-view residence of an 18th century sugarcane baron, which whipped up a collection of fusion dishes including Italian cannelloni stuffed with smoked pirarucu fish and small dried shrimps. In the noonday heat, a tall glass of juice from the cacao fruit (the precursor of chocolate) refreshed the senses with its light floral notes. After lunch, we toured the imperial Theatro da Paz with its rich mid-19th century neoclassical architecture and frescoes, an elegant legacy of the rather brutal era of rubber barons and plantation slaves. We also tended to some daily chores, including grocery shopping at the Lider supermarket near her building, a massive warehouse full of Brazilian daily produce and products that fascinated me almost as much as the touristic sights. Mayara found it hilarious that I had an obsession with visiting foreign supermarkets and wandering in awe of the diverse fish, meat, and tropical fruit sections far superior to those of any American market. She left with basics like bread and deodorant, whereas I walked out with pink mangoes and boxes of guava and cupuaçu cookies.
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| View of Old Town Belem, dating to as early as 1616 |
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| One of the many coconut stalls where one can refresh themselves for $1.50 |
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| A fancy restaurant in the 18th century colonial Palace of Eleven Windows |
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| Delectable Italian-Amazonian fusion with smoked pirarucu cannelloni |
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| The imperial era Theatro da Paz, the most extravagant building of its era in the Amazon |
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| Inside the theater, where each level corresponded to a strict Brazilian social hierarchy |
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| A variety of mango called "pink mango" with light floral notes |
We took a trip to another city "park", which honestly was another massive plot of exquisite rainforest just casually surrounded by high-rises in the heart of Belém. I was starting to grow more jealous with every city park that Mayara checked off her itinerary, as each of them was becoming more exquisite and captivating than the last. The Parque Zoobotanico Museu Emilio Goeldi had been a noble natural sciences research center in the region for well over a century, a collection of historical colonial buildings deep within a city block of protected rainforest plants and filled with diverse exhibits featuring jaguars, sloths, tropical birds, reptiles, and fish. The grounds contained beautiful full grown samauma trees with their monstrous roots, as well as prickly cashapona "walking" palms and giant floating lily pads that appeared alien-like among the diverse collection of flora. Meandering the park's manicured trails surrounded by dense vegetation, it was surreal how one could physically escape the urban world and mentally feel transported to the wilderness without ever leaving the city. Wandering among the exhibits, we did in fact briefly get lost in this "world within a world", at least until coming across one of the tall walls separating us from civilization. The park contained a recently built facility that displayed a tantalizing collection of prehistoric fossils, animal specimens, archaeological artifacts, and ethnographic arts from the Amazon's many indigenous tribes. The most surprising exhibit featured an empty room that, when entered wearing a set of virtual reality goggles, suddenly transformed into "prehistoric" Belém with giant sloths, mastodons, and sabretooth cats roaming around you. It was unbelievably high-tech for such a small museum in a local city park, in addition to all the other sights it offered, and even more remarkable given that the entire park ticket came to less than a dollar!
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| The park's turtle population is thriving |
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| A non-releasable jaguar is one of the few animals that can't roam the park freely |
Saving money on entrance fees made it possible to order more drinks that evening, as Mayara had a particular local bar in mind on the other end of town. Bendita Marvada was a classic Brazilian buteco, or street-side pub, where patrons could sit well into the early morning hours ordering a dizzying variety of beverages and small bites while watching soccer on outdoor televisions. The sidewalk sporadically erupted in either loud cheers or jeers depending on which of the local teams scored a goal on the monitors. Like other drinking cultures I've experienced around the world, the bar scene in Brazil was far more delectable and affordable than anything I'd seen in the US. We ordered shots of coconut cream flavored cachaça (the national sugarcane liquor), which came with a chaser of savory black bean shot. This was followed by a creamy tok-tok crab soup and feijao soup with a tall caipirinha and glass of cashew juice (from the fruiting body, not the nut). After, we ordered a plate of carne de sol, a dish of sun-dried beef and onions with fried cassava and garlic farofa. With both of us being lightweights, we ended with corn flavored cachaça shots, finishing the night relatively early by Brazilian standards. The evening's food and cocktails for two came to only $27.
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| The most amazing coconut cream cachaça shot |
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| Juice from the fruiting body of the cashew nut |
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| Unbelievable crab soup with toasted bread |
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| Sun-dried beef sauteed with onions. I can't believe this is bar food |
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| A curbside buteco just before it gets crowded with soccer fans |
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| A raucous pop-up campaign rally turned street party for a local election candidate |
Constantly worried about overstaying my welcome in light of the Figueiredo family's relentless hospitality, I felt the urge to take them all out to lunch. Mama Figueiredo decided to make a day trip out of my request, as we all hopped into the little Mitsubishi again and drove north of Belém to the small river village of Icoaraci that specialized in traditional Marajoara pottery. Potters and ceramic artisans had small shops and stalls along the riverfront, their exquisite and intricate tribal patterns and archaeological ceramic reproductions sending my head spinning with ethnographic excitement. While I was preoccupied with trying not to overload on souvenirs, the family spent a good amount of time driving around in circles debating over the most ideal restaurant. They settled on a nice airy place with a refreshing breeze overlooking the water and specializing in local group dishes. We started with an appetizer of stingray cakes topped with farofa and presented on scallop shells, along with a large pitcher of fresh pink guava juice. Our main course was a type of misto, a large skillet with rice, fries, and various sides topped with grilled beef, chicken, sausage, fried fish steak, and breaded shrimp. Even after a decent quantity of food, we couldn't complete the meal without dessert, which consisted of two large creamy açai sorbets topped with paçoquita (peanut butter brittle) and a lime mousse. The feast for four totaled only $65.
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| A potter at his wheel in the ceramics village of Icoaraci |
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| Stingray cakes with farofa served in scallop shells |
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| A misto skillet of mixed meats and seafood |
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| A giant açai sorbet topped with peanut butter brittle |
The last of Belém's great parks was situated on the edge of the city, just past the university where Mayara worked as a government researcher in bioinformatics. Driving through the university campus, it felt delightfully strange watching students walking to classes in buildings surrounded by clumps of rainforest, complete with walking path signs warning of wild animals like coatis and snakes (though nothing particularly threatening). That rainforest stretched even into the Parque Estadual do Utinga, a massive area of protected lands containing a number of lakes from which the city takes its water. Beautiful well-built walking and bike paths extended deep into the dense rainforest, following the perimeter of the lakes filled with water plants and palm species. We spotted a variety of animals, including many species of lizards, squawking golden parakeets, and even adorable little squirrel monkeys pouncing through the trees. Boardwalks cut through the forest to the lakeshores, where full fledged cafes offered hot foods, ice cream, cold juices, and fresh coconuts. It was both serene and stunning, with surprisingly very few people around, allowing one to feel as if they had a slice of paradise all to themselves.
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| Of all animals, the humble mosquito welcomed us to Utinga State Park |
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| Views of one of the state park's protected lakes |
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| Groups of squirrel monkeys played in the trees above our rest spot |
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| The main walking/biking path cutting through the rainforest |
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| Beautiful boardwalk and viewing platform over the lake |
We walked all morning covering 6 miles roundtrip, whipping up a voracious appetite in us just in time to return to the family flat for lunch. I want to take a moment to express my deepest appreciation for Marcia, the family's personal chef and domestic help. Many of our lunches throughout my visit were taken in the family flat and meticulously prepared by Marcia, who had been in the service of the Figueiredos for decades. Born in a small village on Marajó Island, Marcia was a woman that never ceased to amaze me with her limitless knowledge of traditional Amazonian cuisine, fruit alcohol brewing, garden plant propagation, and herbal medicine remedies. From her pork with cassava maniçoba and sauteed beef livers, to her rich Brazilian casserole and zesty tropical salads, Marcia seemed like an invisible gastronomic magician behind the door to the tiny kitchen, giving me a genuine taste of home-cooking from northern Brazil that no restaurant could provide. That day, she had prepared another stunning fish stew with tingling jambú leaves, a favorite of mine that I believe Mama Figueiredo had specifically requested on my behalf. And even when I was already feeling completely stuffed, a whole dish of caramelized flan sat waiting in the fridge.
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| Marcia's pork and cassava leaf maniçoba with sauteed pirarucu |
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| Sauteed beef liver with fish bolinha croquettes and avocado salad |
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| Free range spiced chicken casserole |
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| Braised filhote fish steaks with jambu leaves and eggs |
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| A classic Brazilian flan |
We spent my final evening on a boat tour that departed from the Estação das Docas and cruised the river during a radiant red sunset. While many would assume river cruises are inherently calm and relaxing, the opposite could be said for anything involving Brazilians. Known for their mastery in the arts of partying, the boat tour featured a live band with folkloric dancers and alcohol, a combination that ultimately transformed the humble wooden vessel into an undulating nightclub with colorful lights and a slightly tipsy audience. Playing everything from regional carimbó classics to trending pop, the boat was alive with samba dancing and sing-alongs that made everyone forget what we were originally supposed to be sightseeing. Whether for religious festivals or costumed processions, election campaign street parties or evening boat tours, Brazilians seemed to be able to party practically anytime and anywhere. This was the vivacious view on life that Mayara had ultimately chosen over remaining in the US, and quite frankly, I totally understand.
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| Live music and folk dancing on the boat |
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| The historic Ver-O-Peso market from the river |
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| Radiant Amazonian sunset |
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| "Boat billboards" are a newer form of advertising on the river |
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| Dining and nightlife at the historic trading docks |
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| Restaurants usually start filling around 8pm and remain open until midnight |
After two weeks of essentially living in Belém, I felt like Brazil was something I could finally recognize and even relate to, all thanks entirely to Mayara for the crash-course in Brazilian culture, cuisine, and lifestyle. She was especially invaluable for her ability to serve as my personal interpreter and private transport in an area that proved to be quite challenging to travel around independently. Nevertheless, it eventually occurred to me just how unique her Amazonian region truly was, as well as how massive, diverse, and different Brazil was on a national level. I may have gotten a little closer to discovering the people of Pará, but the rest of the immense country would continue to remain a cultural mystery, with many areas and aspects of Brazil still beckoning for me to visit. Nevertheless, I'm proud that my introduction to this amazing country was through one of the regions that's still completely left out of most international tourist itineraries. Being surrounded by locals, participating in local life, and feeling like the only foreigner in the entire city was exactly what I was looking for. Maybe now Mayara will stop calling me gringo and finally consider me an honorary Paraense.
