Finding beauty in the unknown

by Fiona Wright (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection United Kingdom

On the return flight from Salvador to Brasilia, I picked up a book which I had been reading on and off, “The Art of Travel” by Alain de Botton. John Ruskin’s thoughts on possessing beauty resonated with me when thinking about the previous week. De Botton discusses how when we travel, we have a desire to possess the things we see, he also delves into Ruskin’s teachings on “word painting”, and as I read, I realised that when writing I am attempting something similar. Trying to capture the things I have seen through language, because as I have found, sometimes a picture doesn’t do it justice. We arrived in Salvador just in time for Festa Junina and checked into our hostel in Pelourinho, which was preparing for the night’s festivities, then headed to a bar. Couples took turns to have their photo taken on a balcony in front of the endless horizon, and as the sun dipped into sea the staff led a round of applause. A simple, daily occurrence that we usually don’t take time to watch at home had become an event. The burning orange ball that is part of our everyday seemed to fall through the sky so much faster and more brilliantly than I had ever seen, and with that night descended on Salvador and the celebrations began! We zigzagged through cobbled streets and past stages with bands playing Forro music. Adults and children alike wore straw hats, checked shirts, and painted freckles on their cheeks to celebrate the harvest festival. We circled round the sights and sounds of the main square, then decided to cut down a side street and came across a group of drummers outside a small music shop playing fast-paced samba. We pushed through the crowd and each found a doorway to hop into, and nearly an hour later we were still there, entranced. The age range of the musicians spanned from 2 young boys aged 8 or 9, to teens and adults. They were playing for passers-by but also just for themselves. If someone knew the song they were playing, they were passed the microphone and became part of the band for a moment. They didn’t ask for money, but simply asked for people to enjoy the music and if they did want to contribute, buy a beer or juice from the music shop come bar that they were playing outside. If the music alone wasn’t enough to create an unforgettable experience, the group then widened the circle of drums, and people from the crowd began to dance. In true Brazilian style, dance didn’t discriminate, all shapes, sizes and ages took turns to take centre stage. The sheer joy and passion that this group exuded was enough bring tears to my eyes. Being prone to what I call “overactive tear ducts”, it’s not difficult to make me cry…films, songs, spilt milk (true story) they have all set me off. However, I think this was one of very few times I’ve felt surprised by the surge of emotion, standing in that doorway on a tiny side street, the music evoked all kinds of feelings, I felt free, happy to be on this adventure, to feel alone but comfortable surrounded by strangers and to see the purity of humanity that came from the simple act of dance. The band took a break and we dragged ourselves back to the present, finishing the night on a high walking back to the hostel past bonfires in the street and the sound of fireworks which continued into the small hours. Back on the plane one of Ruskin’s quotes in particular resonated with me, “I believe that the sight is a more important thing than the drawing; I would rather teach drawing that my pupils may learn to love nature, than teach the looking at nature that they may learn to draw.” When we travel, we look at things that we would usually take for granted with new eyes, a sunset becomes a momentous event worthy of applause, and a group of strangers dancing on a side street forges an unforgettable, emotional experience…and we fall that little bit more in love with this world we call home.