Through the years, the sand dunes of Mango Seco have
advanced to the edge of the town and the citizens have
fought back by sowing earth-holding plants and brush.

Matthew Flynn

On the northern tip of the littoral of Bahia state, in northeast Brazil, those weary and stressed out from the big city can calm their nerves hearing the susurrus of rolling waves and admiring picturesque sunsets. The tiny village of Mangue Seco is so remote from civilization that the obstacles in trying to get there keep the tranquil town from being overrun by tourist masses. As public phones and daily newspapers are nowhere to be found, the concerns of the world melt away in the hot sun and refreshing Atlantic waters.

Mangue Seco, which had been a sleepy fishing village until TV broadcaster Globo made a telenovela (soap opera) of Jorge Amado's classic Tieta in 1989, has now become a hot spot for tourists who want to enjoy the unblemished beauty of the Bahian coast.

The small fishing village sits alongside the Rio Real (Royal River), whose gently lapping waters reflect the crimson sunsets hovering over the southern bank of Sergipe state. A 15-minute walk through a dry mangrove field—from which the town derives its name—leads you to one of the most expansive beaches in the country.

At low tide, the beach is wider than, and just as flat, as a soccer field. My friends and I spent hours playing that old American pastime, Frisbee, which we carried on into the knee-high sea. In fact, I had to wade some 20 yards into the ocean before there was space enough for me to dive below the surface of the low waves.

One of the area's main attractions (and chief threats) is the shifting sand dunes that separate the town and sea just south of the dry mangrove fields. Over time, the dunes have swallowed up entire coco plantations and just the tops of the trees are left poking through.

The best way to experience the rolling dunes is to take a ride in a buggy. For a fifteen-minute ride we careened up and down numerous inclines and declines. In the end I thought the R$ 20 (US$7) trip was a little weak and asked how much it was to rent a buggy. The driver informed that they stopped rental services after a tourist tipped a buggy over.

For a more exciting trip, request a ride "with emotion" and also to go as far as the waterfall—two key elements I only discovered later. Although the ride itself was below expectations, I did see some amazing sights. At the top of one of the highest dunes, I had a view of at least a 15-mile radius that included the mouth of the Rio Real as it clashes with the Atlantic and miles of lush, green vegetation reaching back inland.

I looked down below, a steep 20-meter drop, and to my surprise could see the entrance to Mangue Seco. Through the years, the sand dunes have advanced to the edge of the town and the citizens have fought back by sowing earth-holding plants and brush. "It is a constant battle," informed my driver. If dunes are not held at bay, the village might lose its soccer field in a few years time.

The town of 300 inhabitants boasts enough accommodation for over a 1,000 visitors along with enough bars and restaurants to serve everyone. One of the delicious local plates I had was moqueca de aratu—a type of crustacean that lives in the mangue. For dessert, I had home-made ice-cream at Doces de Dona Sula (Sweets of Lady Sula).

While lapping up my favorite tropical fruit, jaca (pronounced zchaca), Dona Sula told me the history of the village and of her distant relative Jorge Amado, Brazil's most famous relative who passed away August 6, 2001. Back in the 1930s, Bahia's most famous writer fled Salvador in order to escape persecution for his communist sentiments. Isolated from the society and the authorities, Amado was inspired by the tropical paradise to write the romance Tieta do Agreste. Nowadays, both hotels and restaurants prominently display the actors and scenes from Globo's adaptation of the novel.

In the many of Brazil's small villages and towns, there is usually some oddity that makes the visitor wonder "where did this come from?" Mangue Seco is not immune to this phenomenon. In the middle of the town square, diagonal from Doces de Dona Sula, is a small windowless building with a tiny television at one end. The place reminded me of the scene from Bye Bye Brasil, in which the main characters enter a small town and discover the whole population hypnotized by the static reception displayed on a TV screen.

Apparently, Globo built the installation so the town could watch Tieta, and the reception is decent enough to watch a soccer game. On the weekends, the small building turns into a disco where the town's young strut their stuff. As I spent Easter there in Mangue Seco, I was able to witness the ritual burning of Judas in front of the small, brick building. "I best pay my bill in full at the hotel and restaurants," I thought to myself as the flames engulfed the effigy.

Just trying to get to Mangue Seco can keep even the most intrepid travelers at bay. If coming from the South, take the Linha Verde into Sergipe state until you will see a huge billboard `Mangue Seco' where you turn off to go to the port city of Pontal. From there, you take a ferry or speed boat across the Rio Real and back over to the Bahian side. The other Southern route to the fishing village is to drive up along the Bahian coast from Praia Costa Azul, preferably in a dune buggy. If choosing this route, be sure to ask the locals when is low tide.

Coming from Aracaju, take BR 101 to Estância then the paved road to the littoral which ends at Ponta do Mato from where you have to rent a boat to Mangue Seco. At both Pontal and Ponta do Mato, there are parking lots to keep your car. Arriving to Mangue Seco, be prepared to be overrun by tourist guides.

There are a number of nice hotels along the riverfront. I ended staying in the Pousada de Mangue Seco, which is run by a friendly Argentine couple. Though not on the riverfront, the hotel has a pool and offers a feast for breakfast for a mere R$ 13 (less than $5) per night. I did, however, have one scare. The second morning I was there, I found a dead bat on the pillow next to my head! I immediately checked my neck for two fang bites but found none. The Argentine said the animal must of flew in during the night and hit the ceiling fan. To date, I have not suffered from any bad luck.

Just as it is hard to reach Mangue Seco, it is just as hard to leave. Dona Sula, who has worked in the education sector in the megalopolis of São Paulo, is unsure whether or not she will return to the big city or stay in the family home. "I enjoy so much just meeting and chatting with new people," she mused. Personally, I think she will stay.

The author, Matthew Flynn, a freelance writer living in Brazil, can be reached at mattf@uai.com.br  

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