Blood-drenched Beard

A group of tourists in yellow waterproof jackets and orange life vests, cameras dangling from their necks, is boarding a large dinghy anchored in front of one of the fishing sheds. The dinghy makes several trips, to transport all the tourists to a larger vessel that awaits them farther out. He watches the operation as he exercises Beta in the water. The vessel revs up its noisy motor and starts moving toward the sea gulls bobbing up and down near the fishing boats. The birds spread their wings and skate a little across the surface before they are fully airborne.

Later, after drying and feeding Beta, he locates the travel agency on the main street of the fishing village. Caminho do Sol. Adventure Travel, Hiking, Horseback Riding, Abseiling on Branca Rock, Whale Watching. The small office, with its floor-to-ceiling window, is behind the fishing shed where the tourists had gathered that morning. There is a red motorbike parked outside. A large right whale vertebra by the door is a draw card for tourists and a reminder that the hunting of these protected animals was once the main economic activity in the region. Vestiges of the old whaling station are everywhere, from historical buildings with mortar made with whale oil to the bones that decorate houses, gardens, and bed-and-breakfasts.

He opens the glass door and for a split second thinks that the girl sitting behind the desk staring at the computer screen with a gourd of maté frozen halfway to her mouth is Dália. Her curly hair is swept back off her face, and she is absorbed in her reading, with her head tilting forward a little and her eyes darting back and forth in horizontal sweeps. But she can’t be Dália because she is black. She is wearing a white top and a brown and orange skirt, which look more like strips of fabric somehow tied to her body than items of clothing. He says, Good afternoon, and she returns the greeting immediately but doesn’t take her eyes off the screen until she has quickly finished reading a sentence or paragraph.

Hi, how are you? Sorry, I was just finishing reading something. Have a seat. How can I help you? My name’s Jasmim. What’s yours?

Her voice is deep and viscous. She tells him that the trip costs one hundred reais and that there are still tickets available for the next morning. One of the crew members is a biologist, who will give them a lesson on right whales during the outing. Environmental protection norms require that tour boats approach the whales no more than three times in a row and stay at least a hundred yards away from the whales at all times, but the whales themselves often become curious and swim over to the boat. If the whales take the initiative, it’s okay, but we can’t guarantee that it’s going to happen. The boat will sail down the coast to Ibiraquera, where the whales are this year, passing Ferrugem, Ouvidor, Rosa Beach, the rocky coasts. It’s very beautiful. They’re predicting a sunny day without clouds tomorrow, and the boat leaves at nine in the morning. You have to be there by eight-thirty to meet the group, put on your life vest, and listen to the instructions. If there’s a free spot tomorrow, I’m going to go myself. I’ve only been once.

She sips her maté and finishes with a slurping sound.

Would you like some maté?

Yes, please.

She fills the gourd with steaming water from a Thermos.

What were you reading on the computer when I came in?

Oh, it was a post in a blog I follow.

What about?

About how people need idols these days and the difference between myth and idolatry.

What’s the difference?

There are actually a thousand definitions of what a myth is, but most of them suggest that a myth contains some sort of truth, no matter how obscure, about the challenges and meanings of life. They are stories that have to do with heroes, people who experience great hardship while striving to achieve an objective. The stories change throughout time, but the patterns stay the same. Their strength is timeless. Idolatry has to do with idols, which are the images or representations of divinities. In idolatry, the idol is worshipped as much as or even more than the divinity itself. In other words, idolatry doesn’t contain an implicit truth, like a myth, but rather a lie or a falsification. So this guy is saying that idol worship in our generation is really common, but few people value and recognize myths. He says the traditional idea of myth is in decline because of the speed of social transformation, information overload, unchecked individualism, and so on. We’re living through a historical moment of transition from myths to idols. Something like that. Anyway, I haven’t finished, but it’s an interesting read.

Very interesting.

Do you want a ticket?

Yes.

She takes down his name and phone number in a lined notebook. A protruding vein runs from the back of her hand almost as far up as her elbow. Her fingers look rough. Angular handwriting. Left-handed. Well-kept fingernails but no nail polish. He finishes the maté.