Bahia, Bahia, Bahia, Brasil

A única palavra que descreve a emoção que sinto quando penso no Brasil e saudades. Saudades do povo, da minha família, da energia, da cultura e da comida, dos corações dos Brasileiros- corajosos, amantes, cheio de alegria e paixão. 

The only word that describes my feelings when I think about Brazil is saudades. It’s one of the most difficult words to translate, because it’s an experience that can’t be explained through language, only felt. It’s a deep longing for something we feel connected to that is no longer present. It’s a form of nostalgia, that incommunicable emotion we get when we are missing a person, place, or thing. I feel saudades for the Brazilian people, my family, the energy, the culture and the food, saudades for the hearts of the Brazilians- courageous, loving, full of immeasurable joy and passion. 

Oh Bahia. I didn’t get to experience the heart of your cities, but I did get to dig my toes into your sands on an island off your coast where the sun shone each day through the lazy clouds floating over your warm and inviting waters. It was February 2011, and I had the great honor of celebrating my birthday on the stunning coast of Brazil. 

Our days were spent in both relaxation and adventure. In poetic sunsets and caipirinhas (Brazil’s famous cocktail) eating fresh fried shrimp with lime drizzled over them. Leisure mornings eating fresh papayas, guavas, and coconuts, and afternoons riding quads through rough terrain that lead directly to the ocean’s edge. Sinking into the sand I felt at home, listening to the waves lap against the shore, their calming sound reaching deep into my soul. Ahh. Here I could breathe again. 

Far from the hustle and bustle of the city I could hear myself think, and most importantly, I could shut off my chatter and scattered brain and reconnect to nature and the purity of Mother Earth. Instead of business meetings and phone calls we played existential tag as the water nipped at our ankles. Nights spent in hammocks swinging and dreaming about the stars, wondering if there would ever be a day we could reach them. Drizzles and warm rains had us running for cover in the safety of our cozy rooms. Churrasco (Brasilian BBQ) wafting into our window, had us following the scent like we were explorers on a treasure hunt, finding the gold that was perfectly grilled meat and sausage and fresh fish. We ate so much we thought we might explode, each flavor sending our taste buds spiraling in every satisfying direction. 

We wrote letters and poetry and laid in tall grass. We watched the most beautiful sunsets of my life, golds blazing across the sky like Greek Gods on fiery chariots. Pinks like bubblegum cotton candy, and crimson sunsets turned my insides into velvet. We raced across the water’s surface on rented jet ski’s and explored tiny coves far from civilization. We drank cold beer and listened to the Brazilian heart beat, the drums, beat life into our systems, so that each limb moved in accordance with the rhythm of the music. We danced because nothing else made sense but the samba playing through the speakers, and we imagined we were dancing at Carnaval (which we experienced later on our trip and which requires an entirely separate entry!).

We bounced around ideas like beach balls over volleyball nets, dreaming up projects and inventions and vowed to do something about them when we got back. Because after all, our motto at the time was work hard play harder. And quite honestly, we worked pretty damn hard. As the trip came to a close and our minds had eased their tensions we got back on the tiny little ferry that took us back to the bumble bee hum of the city. Glancing over my shoulder at that little island with its sandy trails and mischievous palm trees swaying in the wind, shaking their coconuts like devious sirens, I knew we would return, if not to this island then to another. For Brazil is a colossal country with a plethora of treasures worth a lifetime of exploration.

The culture, the inviting warmth of the Brazilian people, who welcome you with open arms whether you’re a native or a foreigner, the beaches, the food, the instant family, the love, the music, the HEART of Brazil and its people will leave anyone who happens upon its surface feel a deep sense of saudades on the long journey home.

Brasil, te amo amor <3

My Romance with Absinthe

Ah yes. It was my first night in Barcelona on my very first grand solo adventure across Europe. I wasn’t looking for love, but it found me anyway in the most unlikely of places. A little bar from the late 1800s where Picasso and friends used to sit and muse over life, women, and art. You know, the important things.  The walls were covered with shelfs of spirits and liquors from that time period, and had not been touched since. Gobs of thick gray dust clung to the bottles like heavy paint against Picasso’s portraits. Each bottle told a story whose secrets would never be revealed. At least not to me, and not tonight. 

I’m sitting in Bar Marsella, the only absinthe bar in Barcelona. I’m at a tiny round wooden table with small wooden chairs. Before me is what looks like a mini wine glass. In my hand, a small fork and a sugar cube. My local friend and tour guide for the night shows me how to properly drink this concoction. For those who know little about absinthe, it is a spirit made from anise, wormwood, fennel, and other herbs. It has been called "la fee vert” or “the green fairy”- rumor is the wormwood in the alcohol makes you hallucinate. 

I’m not sure what to expect as I balance my fork above the glass of clear liquid. I feel like I’m about to perform a magic trick or a science experiment. I watch my friend as he places the sugar cube on top of his fork. I follow his lead. The small water bottles we were given with our drinks were not intended for consumption from the bottle. Instead, there’s a small hole pierced through the top of the lid. We begin to pour, or rather, squirt the water over the sugar cube which melts and drips into the alcohol below. The absinthe turns into a milky cloud and settles into a neon yellow. Now I’m sure I’m back in chemistry and that chances are, I should not be drinking my science experiment. However the explorer in me is burning with curiosity. And let’s face it, I’ll try almost anything twice. 

I look into my friend’s eyes. “Salud” (cheers). Down the hatch! An explosion of flavor, mostly licorice, hits my tongue and a fire ignites my throat. I cough. Holy shit that’s strong! My friend laughs. Minutes turn to an hour and our conversation progresses from the politics of Barcelona (Catalonia vs Spain), life, love, loss, until we’ve ordered another round and have made friends with the tables nearest us. I stare at the peeling paint of the walls and envision myself sitting at a table with Pablo Picasso himself as he doodles on a napkin. I imagine all the greats that have passed through these old wooden doors. The poets, the lovers, the weary travelers, the artists, the drunkards. All the cigars that were smoked, the stolen kisses, the under the table deals, the boisterous and raucous laughter and flirtations. I’m overcome with emotion and inspiration and immediately take out a pen and my journal (which you will never see me without on an adventure such as tonight). I write down ideas for scenes and scripts and envision the shots in my head of what kind of movie I could direct within these walls.

The energy surging through me is making me restless so we finish our absinthe and go. We wander the streets as we passionately discuss what it means to live, to love. The stars twinkle above us like a dear friend's eyes in on our little secret. Hopping into a cab we giggle like children. Our cab driver turns into another character in this surreal dream, he tells stories about constellations and the beauty of love (all in Castellano Spanish) and the romantic in me is melting into a puddle as we approach the ocean.

I leap from the car in front of Carpe Diem (a dance club) and dance the next hour away for not a moment is to be wasted. My friend laughs at my enthusiasm as we head to the patio on the sand. I take one look at the full moon reflecting on the ocean’s surface and it’s clear there’s only one thing left to do. I throw my wallet and phone to my now bewildered friend and race across the sand in my blue dress, kicking my sandals off. I can’t reach the water’s edge fast enough! 

Splash! No hesitation, I’m beneath the water fully clothed. Silence beneath the waves, a stillness for a moment… and when I come up for air, the moon appears to me even brighter than before. I smile. The kind of smile I know I won’t forget for as long as I live. I have fallen head over heels in love. And her name is Barcelona. 

Carpe Diem. Seize the day.

"Ernest Hemingway, Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, Arthur Rimbaud, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Amedeo Modigliani, Picasso, Vincent van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Aleister Crowley, Erik Satie, and Alfred Jarry were all known absinthe drinkers” Wikipedia 

I don’t recommend absinthe for everyone, in fact most people hate it! And it wasn’t the absinthe that made me so free, though it helped I’m sure. It was the new experience with wonderful people in my favorite city in the world. I’ve since been back to Bar Marsella many times and have gotten to know the owners quite well. So if you find yourself in Barcelona, don’t leave without stopping in. Tell them Maiara sent you ;-)

Me and my girl Jimena

                                                               Scotty, bar runner, nice guy contrary to belief!

                                                           photo cred: Delta Sky Magazine

                                                                   The gobs of dust! photo cred: Trip Advisor

                                                                       Photo Cred: lwsn.net

                                                 Peeling paint on the ceiling and the walls photo cred: LindaDreams

                                                         photo cred: haveyouseenuslately.org

Jose, Owner <3

photo cred: lavanguardia

That Time I Thought I was Getting Kidnapped

I’m sitting in the backseat of a car, flanked by two Turkish men. I do not know their names, nor can we communicate. There are two more men in the front seat. We are driving along a windy highway through the mountains, and I’m supposed to be by the ocean. The windows are up, the doors are locked. I’m smiling on the outside, trying to remain cool, but inside I’m wondering if this is going to turn into the movie Taken. I must plan an escape route.

Rewind. 2012. I’m sitting in Cadaques, Spain, a beautiful fisherman’s wharf where Salvador Dali built his home. I’m writing in my journal enjoying tapas (small plates of food) listening to the laughter of small children and their families. This is my Summer of YES. My solo journey through Europe for 6 weeks. No plans, no agenda, whatever direction I was feeling drawn towards spontaneously I would say yes to (within reason of course). 

I look across the water to the setting sun and pull my phone out to capture it. A what’s app message (app for communication- great for traveling) pops up from a girl I had met very briefly at a creative conference earlier that summer. We had sat next to each other for an hour over dinner and shared great conversation. She asked if I was still in Europe, and if so, would I like to meet her and a group of friends in Marmaris, Turkey to go sailing in 4 days. 

Immediately my walls go up. Turkey, though I had heard great things about it, had not been on my list for places to visit this trip. Also, 4 days away?? That's going to interfere with the little plans I do have! I think of all the reasons it doesn’t make sense. Then I remembered my promise to myself. That I would say yes to things that scared me and be open to adventure. So though my mind is screaming all the reasons I should say no, I type back, “YES.”

I assumed (my first mistake) that we would all be arriving together. No such luck. I am the first to arrive and was told someone would be at the exit with my name on a sign. I walk out into the scorching 95 degree + weather, down to the pick up station where 40 Turkish men stand. Not a woman in sight. Many of the men are trying to offer me a ride as I scan the signs for my name. It’s not on any of them. I am not sure what to do. The more time I spend waiting and looking around like an out of place tourist, the more vulnerable I am becoming to potential danger. I look up the name of the boat company on my emails (no service and no wifi) and search the signs again. This time I spot a guy with the company written on the sign, but misspelled. He doesn’t speak English and doesn’t know my name but immediately starts guiding me away to an unmarked car that is definitely not a taxi or car service. Suddenly, his friend is with us too. As we near the car doors I stop.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, I need to make sure this is right!” I ask to talk to someone else and they phone their boss who speaks even less English. He isn’t very helpful. When we get off the phone I have a split second to make a decision. I look into both their eyes. I don’t sense malicious intent. The car doors open. Here we go.

Cut to me in the car. Two men have turned into four. Shit. This is Not good. I have no idea how close or far Marmaris was. Twenty minutes into the drive through rural mountains, I begin to inwardly panic. I try to keep things light and smile politely at the guys who are glancing at me in case they sense my fear. I find cell service and text my girl friend, giving her names of exits we were passing in case something happened.

We pull off onto a gravel road that leads to a shack. Okay now I’m really fucked. I start imagining whose grasp I’ll have to slip through first. How I would drop to the ground and make a break for the mountains, fuck my luggage. As we pull to a stop two men get out and enter the shack. Oh god, they’re probably getting something to knock me out with. The guy in the front passenger seat keeps checking on me. “Stay calm Maiara” I thought. The guys walk back and tell me to get out of the car. This is it! Get ready to run! The man in the passenger seat gets out too. My adrenaline is at an all time high. After a terrifyingly long moment of silence, the men usher me into the front seat and send me alone with the driver to continue our journey. What the hell?

Cut to two HOURS later. I’m exhausted and confused, and the driver will not stop flirting with me and telling me long stories I can't comprehend. He takes my hat off my head and starts impersonating different American actors he knows. I finally crack a smile. We round a bend and BOOM! The OCEAN! Marmaris!

I’ve survived! I could almost kiss the man I once thought was my captor. The ocean looks inviting, boats bobbing up and down on its cerulean surface, an invitation into freedom. I find the boat we will be staying on and walk around the small town gratefully. Looking around I see beautiful Arabic influenced art and colorful mosaic glass lighting fixtures.  My friends arrive hours later, and are amused with my story.

Moral of it? Never assume anything! If you’re traveling somewhere you’ve never been with no knowledge of the language, do yourself a favor and at least figure out the distance between the airport and your destination and be clear on when and where you’re meeting up with people. Also, though it worked out for me this time, as a single woman, I’ll never get into a car with four men that I don’t know alone again. 

Turkey turned out to be one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been. We sailed from Marmaris to Fethiye and spent two nights in Istanbul. The city blew my mind, especially the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia. What had started off in my imagination as a potential kidnap/torture nightmare turned into the magic below. I thanked that one simple word that took me out of my comfort zone. YES.

                                            

I like to call this the Tree of Life. 

Gemiler Island (aka Saint Nicholas Island)

The woman who inspired it all. Thank you for the invitation!

The Blue Mosque- Istanbul

Burning Man

Imagine an electric ocean of sand where colorful and vibrant characters flow through dusty desert and a clockwork maze of camps. Sunrise and sunset become interchangeable. Time seems to warp in strange fashions and one day can feel like an hour or ten. Caravans spend hours getting onto the playa (the dried lake bed where the magic happens), and many spend the entire year preparing for a festival that takes only 8 days. Art installations that stagger the mind are burned or disappear by the end of it all. 

In one day it is just as likely to see a conga line of naked people by a fire as it is to experience the weight of  people writing their prayers for lost loved ones in a beautiful and intricate temple, reminding me of the Buddhist temples in Myanmar. Burning Man is truly a Choose Your Own Adventure. There are workshops, talks, yoga, day parties, art stations, lemonade stands, bars, pancake camps, smoothie spots, bike repairs, life coaching, roller discos, clubs, adult jungle gyms, air conditioned domes, day cares, climbable structures, and many many light up art cars blasting music and rolling through the playa.

Nowhere else have I experienced the level of freedom of self expression in the way I have at Burning Man. No camp design or costume or outfit was too strange or out of place. I met a man in a leather speedo, chain necklaces, and a cop hat who told me he was a lawyer who works a 9-5 job and no one at work knew he was there. He said Burning Man was the one week out of the year he could truly be whoever he wanted to be without judgment. I thought that was beautiful. Also, the organization of community across a group of 70,000 extremely different human beings, the openness and acceptance of everyone, and the generosity of strangers really touched me. 

There is no currency exchange at Burning Man. The only things you can buy are ice and coffee. Burning Man operates on a "gifting" system, meaning people can gift one another anything from a cold drink to a piece of jewelry or clothing, to an art piece, to a massage, to a workshop session, to pretty much anything you can think of. The idea of gift giving is that there is no expectation of receiving something in return. I found that by doing this, people were more naturally giving and excited to share with one another. Also, everything you bring in, you bring out. No trash cans, you are responsible for yourself, your actions, and your waste. It was the cleanest festival I have Ever been to, the playa was near spotless throughout the week we were there.

People at the burn often talk about "playa magic". This could refer to synchronicity or to a seemingly random chain of events leading to spectacular experiences that could not be planned beforehand. Here, synchronicity and these incredible experiences were magnified. One adventure had us hopping art cars blasting music, sharing words and prayers at the temple, and then heading into the middle of nowhere in the desert on intuition alone, only to find ourselves before a spaceship called Dancetronauts where Skrillex happened to be playing a set in front of a huge pyramid of ladders. That is one small example of "playa magic". And it happened NONSTOP!

My experience? Overall, magical, great, fantastic. But as in life there were always ups and downs, the trick was to keep a positive and grateful attitude towards the downs! I showed up early on Sunday because I wanted to be a part of the whole experience, the build of our camp, the evolution of the festival, all of the burns, and eventually, the brutal tear down. The environment is super harsh. Dust storms are common and on our first night it poured like we were deep in the jungle, leaving everything a muddy goop in the morning. But I loved it. Again, for me it's about the experience, and I wanted to experience everything the playa had to offer. Throughout the trip I biked like a madwoman and climbed everything I could get my hands on #safetythird haha I felt like Indiana Jones! Another day there was a fierce dust storm, so of course I decided to walk barefoot through it to the temple :P Complete white out!

One of my favorite parts about Burning Man beyond the art and creativity, was the people and the deepening of newfound friendships. How quickly everyone in camp and strangers in the desert became family. People I will know and love for the rest of my life! I thank you all.

Burning Man. Put it on the Bucket List. www.burningman.com 

Haha love the people behind us! Welcome to Burning Man!

   Beautiful art installation near the temple.

                                         The Temple. I came here every day. On the final day 

                                         the temple burned down and created a perfect spiral as

                                         it fell to the ground. It was gorgeous.

                                          Sonny, aka Skrillex came into our parachute dome
                                          and hung with us. Super authentic dude. @harmoniclight
                                          on the camera. So much talent. #drapeseverywhere

                                                                 Trampoline Fun.

                                          Another art installation in the middle of the desert.

                                          A look from inside the temple. The design was
                                          incredibly intricate.

                                                                      Lovely ladies!

                                          Like gypsies across the desert. Another sunrise.

                                          Just one example of an art car that plays music that
                                          you can hop on and off of!

                                        Yep. That's a car. On end. In the middle of the "road"

                                          Gave this lovely lady on the right her playa name!

                                                   Not sure this needs further explanation.

                                                                  Sunrise in Paradise.

                                                            Champagne Chip.

                                                                The Man himself.

                                            Yet another fun thing to climb on the playa. See
                                          the man in the back?

                                            A little dusty upon entrance with my besties!

                                  If you're a virgin burner, something to look forward to! Haha

Cuddle puddle with my favorite peeps at the absinthe bar.