Lynn Adventuring Abroad: Jogging the Fetid Canals of Recife

A ritual in my new life here in Recife is an evening jog along the canal path just two blocks from my apartment building. This particular canal is one of a complex system of dozens of canals, rivers, and estuaries that cut through what was once a large mangrove forest and is now a paved urban ecosystem housing nearly two million people. This sprawling city full of islands, bridges, and waterways could theoretically be dubbed the Venice of Brazil. And Recife, which means reef, has the potential to be a beautiful gem of a city. All of the rivers flow into the Atlantic Ocean, whose white sand beaches and clear turquoise waters are stunning. Too bad the construction of a large port sealed off two significant estuaries, driving the local population of bull sharks to feed on surfers and swimmers at Recife’s beaches. After this alteration to the food chain, Recife’s beautiful- albeit somewhat crowded and garbage strewn- beaches must be enjoyed from the shore or by merely wading into the sea. With surfing and swimming prohibited, only the occasional drunk swims out beyond the reef after too many cervejas on a Sunday afternoon, tempting fate and the appetite of the bull sharks. The folks back on the beach must all be wondering, “Will he be the 48^th victim?”

Luckily, while all of the smaller rivers and canals that I have seen here are nearly unmoving, algae-covered, and well, fetid, they are home to no dangerous predators that I know of. Whew! Don’t get me wrong though. This canal path jog is no walk in the woods. The obstacles I encounter on my thirty minute run are enough to keep me on my toes, running at a good clip, and constantly observing my surroundings. On the cracked and hole-filled sidewalk looping around the canal I often have to dodge the scrawny horses tied up to trees, always taking care to run beyond a horse leg’s distance away in order to avoid the kick that might result from startling the beast. The land mines the horses leave beyond are just as dangerous and require careful attention to evade. And then there are the stray dogs. Scraggly mutts of all sorts wander through the streets, expertly dodging traffic and finding their way to the canal where they might mark some trees or chase after a bitch in heat. So far I have seen none foaming at the mouth, but these dogs are not animals that I would want to stop and pet, or even brush up against accidentally.

The most dangerous of the beasts that I encounter on my canal jog is, of course, the Brazilian driver. There is no escaping traffic in this crowded crush of a city. Cars, motorcycles, and bicycles all swarm the roads and appear to have some set of rules all their own, impossible for a foreigner to decipher. Most pertinent to a pedestrian is the fact that a red light does not necessarily mean stop and wait for green. It usually serves more as a stop sign. Drivers slow down, hurriedly glance both ways for traffic, and if they decide there is enough of a break to make it through the intersection they speed across while giving the horn a honk-honk-honkity-honk. If they intend to make a turn there is no signal, just a honk that may be coded but to me sounds like every other honk from every other vehicle honking out a Morse code message of its intended path through the streets. Just imagine what this traffic is like for an urban jogger from a foreign land. When I come to either of the two intersections along my canal path I take the opportunity to intensify my work-out by breaking out into a full-out sprint to the other side once I see a slight break in traffic and work up the courage. Mine is a similar approach to that of the drivers at red lights.

Despite the stench of the canal and the above mentioned obstacles to be found in the one mile or so loop of the canal path, I am joined by dozens of other joggers and walkers every evening, looping around and around until it is so dark that that cracks in the unlit sidewalk pose a much more serious danger. From my experience in three Brazilian cities, urbanites love their exercise. Salvador, Maceió, and Recife all have numerous “urban gyms” or areas with a jogging path, bike path, exercise bars, and the like. Brazilians, mostly appearing to be a of a certain social class and age, love to take to these urban gyms with their friends and spend the few slightly cooler hours of the day getting fit. On my canal path, just before sunset (5:30), I am accompanied on my jog by just enough other walkers and runners to not feel either isolated or overcrowded.

The path is also used as a pedestrian thoroughfare through the neighborhood, meaning that every evening there might also be mothers with several children hanging onto her skirt, and grocery bags in her arms. Older folks from the neighborhood set up plastic chairs in the grass between the canal and sidewalk to enjoy the cool evening breeze. Barefooted and bare-chested boys race and ride their bikes along the bike path. All sorts of people seem to come out of the word-work during my evening jogs, showing me just what an interesting and diverse neighborhood I live in. It appears to be somewhat of a transitional neighborhood. The new eight-story apartment building that I live in is one of the only tall and recently built buildings in the area. It is mostly surrounded by smallish houses, stores, and warehouses. The street I live on, Shrimp Avenue (it probably got this name because it was once a mangrove forest with a shrimp farm), is paved in the section closest to the main road, but covered in sand in the section closest to the canal. I enjoy living in this interesting neighborhood, even if I haven’t quite figured it out yet. Is this an example of Brazilian gentrification? I would ask my host family about it, but they tend to give me short answers to such questions, either assuming that I wouldn’t understand, or that as a privileged foreigner I don’t really want to know (or can’t handle?) the truth.

The mysteries of my neighborhood, my neighbors, and the sand-covered road all make my jog that much more enjoyable. As I run my mind flows between meditation and reflection on everything that I’m seeing, learning, and experiencing here; the harsh realities; the beauty and inspiration; the day’s new Portuguese vocabulary; and wondering what this canal was like when it was not a fetid canal but part of a healthy mangrove ecosystem. Thirty years ago? Fifty? One hundred? Who knows.