After all the fish was sold, I found myself talking with some of the fishermen. They were curious to know what a guy like me – a gringo, as they initially called me – was doing there. I approached them in Portuguese and I apologized by not speaking like them. My Portuguese certainly sounded to them like a weird version of their Brazilian Portuguese, but I explained to them I was from Europe, I was there for windsurfing and stand up paddling and I learned my Portuguese in Lisbon, where I live at the moment. Anyhow they were happy to be able to communicate with me and so was I. Responding to my innumerable questions they explained to me how their fishing rituals were structured. And then I asked “how long do you stay out at sea when you fish?”, the answer was unexpected. They told me they were out at sea for at least two days. One almost-full day spent sailing out towards the horizon, then a few hours of
fishing, and then another day of sailing to come back to shore.
Without any lights, any navigation devices, any places to hide from the sun or from the rain, they were just fiercely braving the elements of the Brazilian sea without any modern-day comfort. That was the reason why I was there: more than the good windsurfing, the wind, the waves. I was finally feeling at home among those brave fishermen of Ceará.
“ Not only does a journey transport us over enormous distances, it also causes us to move a few degrees up or down in the social scale ” Claude Lévi-Strauss, 1955