Jiribatuba, Ilha de Itaparica, Brazil — July 2019
Ilha de Itaparica is the largest island in the Bahia de Todos os Santos, a long green blade of land that shields Salvador from the open sea. Most sailors know its northern marina and the famous Fonte de Bica mineral spring. Very few make it to the island's southern tip, where the land frays into mangrove-lined tidal flats and the ruins of a 300-year-old church stand open to the sky.
The name Jiribatuba comes from the Tupi jurubatuba — "many spiny palms" — a reminder that this coast was once wild Atlantic forest. The Portuguese came here in the 16th century, building the first sugar mills (engenhos) along the Itaparica shoreline. A small church followed, as it always did. It was dedicated in the name of God, raised in the name of trade, and has been slowly returning to the earth ever since.
The church's baroque façade is still standing — just barely. The roof is long gone. Two rows of arched windows frame nothing but sky. The ornate stone carvings at the top, scrolled and finial-peaked, have survived the centuries better than the walls beneath them. A handwritten sign stuck to the door reads Ruínas Século — "Century Ruins." The understatement is very Brazilian.
We walked barefoot through the tidal flats to reach the ruin, the water warm and ankle-deep, scattered mangrove trees rising improbably from the sand around us like something from a painting. On the way back we stopped at a beach bar that had decorated its entrance with surfboards. The caipirinha was cold. The afternoon was perfect.
The extraordinary tidal flats at Jiribatuba — mangroves rise from the sand as isolated trees at low water
The Ruínas Século — a baroque colonial church whose roof has gone but whose ornate stone façade endures
The beach bar at Jiribatuba — surfboards as architecture, caipirinhas as philosophy