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As is often the case, I've got Brazil on the brain. It's been too long (two years!) since I've been back to that land that I love.

When I studied abroad in Rio in 2002 (above--remember that dress?), fashion from Ipanema's beaches to the depths of the Amazon inspired me to explore the origins and effects of our clothing. This week, two very different perspectives demonstrated why Brazil served as such a useful (and joyous) microcosm for a girl on her way to studying the manifestations of globalization through fashion.

A snapshot of popular Brazil: pink Havaianas and a patchwork doormat in the Amazon, 2008

Friday in Viceland, Jack Orlick examined the fashion choices of the Huaorani people, in the (Ecuadorian) Amazon. He seemed upset by the Huaorani's adoption of modern clothing like jeans and rubber boots, and equally disturbed by the the exploitation of their native garb for North American and European TV crews.

His photos of the Amazon, like many of mine (above and below from Pará, Brazil in 2008), show people wearing what's easy, available and convenient, which usually comes down to some combination of cotton or nylon shorts and a tee shirt and rubber shoes, whether boots or Havaiana flip-flops.

Most of the indigenous people's accessories were more practical (see: sun-blocking hats and snorkel masks) than decorative. But those traditional accessories are still around, and there's a bit of cultural exchange there. I brought home strands of seed-beads and little feathered crowns that I still wear. Orlick, who used the Huaorani's wardbrobe choices to demonstrate their precarious position between preservation and petroleum, might see my souvenirs as cultural exploitation. I see them more as globalization of fashion, and, well, beautiful accessories.

Writing this today, in a feather crown purchased in the Amazon in 2002

Meanwhile, the Business of Fashion's Suleman Anaya went "Inside Brazil's Booming Fashion Industry" to illustrate how the country's protectionist trade policy, urban migration and growing GDP are contributing to a Brazilian fashion industry that is at once attracting foreign investment and exporting Brazilian brands. (See: Osklen and Rosa Chá in SoHo.) Spending time with garment workers here in New York and reading about the effectiveness of Brazil's import duties on their apparel manufacturing sector made me wonder whether the U.S. would ever adopt a similarly aggressive strategy in support of American fashion. What's pretty awesome is that the import duties don't just protect Brazilian jobs, they also protect their aesthetic, which is so specific, and so f-ing amazing!

Rio de Janeiro, 2008

There's so much I love about Brazilian fashion (burning my buns on the beach, wearing the world's tiniest bottoms and chandelier arrings, for a start), but these stories reminded me what first inspired me there as a student of global studies: It wasn't just my amazing handmade leather flip-flops, though they were part of it. It was the potential that lies in the nexus of these two articles, where indigenous traditions meet the spending power of high-fashion consumers.

image from the Wayúu Tayá Foundation

Look what's happened with the Mochila bag, a handwoven purse from Colombian and Venezuelan tribes. Surely, the Wayúu Tayá Foundation's sales have skyrocketed since the fashion world adopted their woven bags as a must-have accessory (I know I want one!) That's a case of a non-profit organization that works with tribal communities earning money to support their projects in areas like health and education.

Imagine if they helped the Wayúu women organize themselves to connect directly with North American and European buyers, and even designers to help them apply their techniques to styles that, well, "exploit" the whims of the industry.

Huh. Sounds like another hot model that could come from Brazil.

Smith reviews: Brazilian eco escape Hotel Fazenda da Lagoa in Bahia

Posted by Lucy on December 2nd, 2008

The most recent hotel to have been reviewed for our online collection, Hotel Fazenda da Lagoa is a beachy dream come true, set on the lush coast of Bahia in Brazil.
Every time we publish a new hotel write-up from one of our panel of independent reviewers at Mr & Mrs Smith, we’ll let you know here on the Smith Travel Blog, so you can keep pace with our team of travel spies and style insiders on their global roams. We visit every property in our hand-picked hotel collection in person, and we get every one anonymously reviewed to make sure they meet our sky-high expectations.
Our only brief to these intrepid boutique-hotel voyagers is to go with their real-life partner (or partner in crime), check in anonymously, have a rip-roaring, chandelier-swinging, fireside-lounging, beach-strolling, bed-testing, bathroom-assessing time and then report back to us with the candour you’d expect from your oldest friend.

Here’s a wee morsel from the latest Mr & Mrs Smith stay at eco-friendly beach escape Fazenda da Lagoa…

Back at the bungalow we find a gecko guarding the fresh flower petals in our stone foot-rinsing basin, and a cotton gauze curtain drawn around our bed. Inviting white terrycloth bathrobes and a chilled bottle of champagne await our indulgence. We promptly make use of both, capped off by a hot shower under the stars. By the time our stomachs call us back to the lodge for dinner, the path is alight with candles…
The next morning, I rise to sip café com leite in the library while Mr Smith snoozes. When he joins me for breakfast, the highlight is a coconut cake that practically becomes pudding in our mouths. The day is dazzling, and I leave Mr Smith poolside to peruse the gift shop. There, I find tiny bright bikinis, including a tangerine dream. I try it on and walk to the pool for a second opinion. Mr Smith puts down his magazine as I spin, demonstrating the tiny barely-there bottom that distinguishes Brazil’s national costume. ‘Sold,’ he says…

Now read the full hotel review online at the Mr & Mrs Smith site…

Hotel Fazenda da Lagoa

Bahia, Brazil[view map]

Anonymously reviewed by Jenni Avins (Aesthetic adventurer)

Hotel Fazenda da Lagoa Mr & Mrs Smith 2010-06-09 5

‘Welcome to Jurassic Park,’ says Mr Smith drily, as our Land Rover bumps through an arid forest of coconut palms in Bahia, Brazil. Indeed, it seems another place and time when we arrive at the road’s end to find a boat with a rainbow-striped awning awaiting us. We feel happily miles from nowhere and plop down on soda pop-coloured cushions for the short ride across the lake Fazenda da Lagoa is named after.

Upon arrival, white-clad staff member Claudia walks us around the grounds, explaining the Fazenda’s philosophy of leaving the natural setting as untouched as possible. No dissent here. Bahia’s coast provides the perfect landscape for an exclusive escape. ‘Fazenda’ is the word Brazilians use for romantic ranches and impressive estates. Fazenda da Lagoa is both.

We weave a path from the lake between private stone bungalows with white shutters and wooden decks to the lodge – a sprawling indoor/outdoor version of the cottages serving as the restaurant, bar and communal lounging space. The simple natural decor is accented with vibrant upholstery and objects reflecting a distinctly Brazilian blend of African art and Iberian culture. In the alcove library, carefully curated floor-to-ceiling titles are interrupted only by wooden sculpture of a white bird surrounded by flowers and a cobalt plexi-glass version of Bahia’s most ubiquitous souvenir: a lembrança ribbon that Bahians ritually tie around visitors’ wrists, promising a granted wish when they fall off.

‘Would you like to see your bungalow?’ asks Claudia, snapping me out of a fantasy in which this library, complete with zebra rug, exists in my home. Winding along another sandy path, I hear only the ocean’s quiet roar, and comment I feel as if we are the only guests. ‘That’s because you are,’ says Claudia. ‘Brazil’s holidays just ended.’ Mr Smith winks at me.

Inside Bungalow Seven, we are greeted by a clean, white, open room with turquoise and lime-green accents. On the bottom shelf of a table holding a flatscreen TV and DVD player are stacks of vintage international copies of Vogue. Mr Smith and I resolve to indulge in the afternoon sun and the reading material, respectively. Opening our baggage, I immediately lament not buying a skimpy Brazilian bikini in Rio. My modest black swimsuit feels square in this secluded, sexy setting.

Anxiety dissipates to the tune of an expertly made Caipirinha and a dip in the emerald-tiled swimming pool just steps from our bungalow. As I pile octopus and squid vinaigrette on a fresh sweet potato chip, Mr Smith wonders aloud whether it would be uncouth to request a second drink before finishing his first. One round later, it’s time to explore the beach.

Arriving on an expanse of endless white sand, we again feel deliciously isolated. As it turns out, we are not completely alone. Cacau and Joaquim, two Rhodesian Ridgeback dogs who reside at the Fazenda, accompany us into the warm salty waves as the sun sinks behind the coconut palms.

Back at the bungalow we find a gecko guarding the fresh flower petals in our stone foot-rinsing basin, and a cotton gauze curtain drawn around our bed. Inviting white terrycloth bathrobes and a chilled bottle of champagne await our indulgence. We promptly make use of both, capped off by a hot shower under the stars. By the time our stomachs call us back to the lodge for dinner, the path is alight with candles.

At the bar, Mr Smith and I are feeling a bit Bond with the resort all to ourselves and we decide that a dirty martini would be just the ticket. Upon realising the cocktail is not part of the traditional Brazilian repertoire, Mr Smith takes over. The young bartender steps aside with a giggle for Senhor Smith to shake some deliciously dirty libations. We then dine on outstanding Moqueca de Peixe: a rich Bahian stew of coconut milk, palm oil, fish, onion and peppers over rice. After a day awash in waves and Caipirinhas, our crisp cotton sheets are calling.

The next morning, I rise to sip café com leite in the library while Mr Smith snoozes. When he joins me for breakfast, the highlight is a coconut cake that practically becomes pudding in our mouths. The day is dazzling, and I leave Mr Smith poolside to peruse the gift shop. There, I find tiny bright bikinis, including a tangerine dream. I try it on and walk to the pool for a second opinion. Mr Smith puts down his magazine as I spin, demonstrating the tiny barely-there bottom that distinguishes Brazil’s national costume. ‘Sold,’ he says.

Throughout the day, I sun my under-exposed bum in a variety of stunning locales beginning with a secluded beach and followed by the crystalline lagoa. Determined to work up seafood-worthy appetites, Mr Smith takes out a kayak while I opt for a private surf lesson. Conditions are choppy, but barely a bother as my instructor Miguel pushes me into waves, patiently critiquing my stance and timing. In case we weren’t relaxed enough, we end the day with massages. Ordinary rubdowns are made extraordinary by the ocean breeze and flickering candles.

That night after dinner, we have dessert delivered to our room. Lying in bed with Mr Smith and a chocolate brownie, I couldn’t be happier. The next day, back in the Land Rover, Mr Smith ties a turquoise lembrança ribbon around my wrist, telling me to make a wish. I’m afraid if I tell, it may not come true, but all I can think of is returning to Fazenda da Lagoa.

More boutique hotels in Bahia…

• 
  
  

  Etnia Pousada

  
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  Fazenda São Francisco

  
• 
  
  

  Kiaroa Eco Luxury Resort

  
• 
  
  

  Uxua Casa Hotel

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

to market, to market

So last week brought me to Santarém, a vivid little city in the middle of the Amazon.

My flight was somewhat akin to a flying bus. I went from Ilhéus to Salvador to Recife to Fortaleza to Maranhão to Belém to Santarém. My dear friend Marcos Abreu, who I left there six years ago was waiting for me when I finally got there in the middle of the night.
After a few hours of sleep we hit the market right outside his door to get supplies for a five-day boat trip on the Rio Arapiuns. Try to imagine hitting this market after a thirteen hour journey and a few hours sleep in temperatures nearing ninety degrees.
Surreal, to say the least.

Tucunaré, really tasty fish with an "eye" on its tail.
Surubim. Pretty body, ugly face. Really good eating.

Just when I was about to pass out from the smell of fish and the thought of swimming in the same water as some of these guys I found relief in the produce section...


Those bottles are all homemade hot sauce called Tucupí, made from manioc, really good with fish, only found in the Amazon.

I forget the name of those little green snork-veggies, but they are great in soup...

Guess what's in season right now...here, I'll give you a few more hints...



Here, pineapple is called abacaxi (ah-BAH-ka-shee) and they beat it in a blender with fresh mint to make really refreshing juice.

One of my favorites: papaya.

Tough negotiator.

There's a great Jorge Ben Jor song about all the types of bananas in Brazil. The ones on top are Bananas da Terra, I'm pretty sure, which make some mean fried bananas.

Marcos is supremely organized, so while I wandered around the supermarket taking pictures of shortening cans like those below, he worked with his list, built around a meticulously planned menu. He also cooked the entire time on the boat, which you'll certainly hear more about.


Being of the mind that the cook shouldn't have to do the dishes, that tended to be my contribution.

After five days on the boat and two days in Santarém, I am a little beaten up with a sore throat, a cut on my foot to remember each day by and bites that have bites.

Marcos was scandalized when I suggested I may pop some antibiotics, and instead made me a tea that the wife of an Indian chief once made for him. Here in the land of supreme natural remedies, I'm recovering nicely using potions and lotions made from seeds and tree extracts and the like...as opposed to what you'll see pictured here...
which is actually extracted from...Anacondas!

Aaaagggh!! No, I did not take that photo, though I swear I've seen one at least that size, without the aid of Photo Shop.

Sorry, that's a horrible reinforcement of scary Amazonian stereotypes, but I can't help this morbid fascination I have with them. And lots of peaceful images of the beautiful Amazon are sure to come.


More on the journey to follow. For now, I am signing off from the Belém airport, on my way to Macapá.

Monday, August 4, 2008

louco por cocoa

I've made it back to Bahia, the northeastern state where I fell in love with Brazil six years ago.

This is a place where African, South American and European culture mix against stunning natural backdrops. The result is nothing short of magic.


Over the last week I've caught waves in a little surf town called Itacaré and Bridget and I luxuriated in our own flashy beach bungalow miles from anywhere. But nothing came close to my journey to Diego Badaró's Fazenda Monte Alegre, a cocoa farm in the middle of the Atlantic Rainforest.

Due to some less than magical technical issues, I've only been able to upload a random few of the photos from the Fazenda for the time being. There will be more to come, I promise. But for now I just have one night to write and get organized for my journey to the Amazon tomorrow, so they'll have to do for the interim.


I knew when I read about Diego Badaró last year in Bill Buford's New Yorker story about cacau (the fruit that we get chocolate from), that he was someone I had to meet. If anyone wants to read that article, it is riveting, hilarious and informative and I'll be happy to email it to you.

My grande amigo, Jeremy Black, who you may remember from the New Zealand chronicles, connected us one drizzly April night at the bar at the Gramercy Park Hotel. Jeremy and Diego's respective crops (açai and cacao) are awesome in that they are cultivated in ways that preserve their natural settings, in both cases, rainforests of Brazil.


I have always known I loved chocolate, but had no idea about the Mata Atlantica, Atlantic Rainforest, until Diego picked me up at my pousada in Itacaré and took me there earlier this week.It is magic.

This is what the view along the road to the farm looked like, after many hours of bumping along with Diego and his dogs in his Land Rover. It was pretty dark by the time we arrived, and the next day I awoke to an unbelievable journey through the forest, which is also the farm.

Here is a cacao fruit on the tree.

This is a young tree from a Mexican seed of Aztec origins that I got to plant with my own two hands. Already I cannot wait to go back to check on its progress.


This is what seeds look like after they have been fermented and left to dry under retractable roofs of the barns on the farm. That orange mark on my hand is not the result of self-tanner gone bad, but rather the pigment from a forest flower.

This is the view from the roof where the beans were drying. After a day of exploring the forest, we ended up here while the shadows got long.

Here I am, yet again, at the end of one of the best days of all time, lying on a bed of warm cacao beans.

If you read that Bill Buford article, or Jorge Amado's The Violent Land you'll know that the Badaró family is a huge part of the history of cacau in Brazil--a totally fascinating tale of bloodshed, romance and chocolate along the Rio de Contas. Diego's passion for the Atlantic Rainforest is contagious and the potential for cacao to regenerate both the nature and the economy of this part of Bahia is compelling.

This is only the very beginning of this story.

As soon as I am able I'll post more photos and tales of Bahia. But tomorrow, it's off the the Amazon: the Rio Arapiuns, and then the Sambazon plant in Macapá.


Goodnight from under the Baiano crescent moon.