Postcards from Kevin: Secret Paradise

Noronha, Brazil, exquisite but exclusive

By Kevin Raub
Published: Mar 14, 2008

There is a small island in the Atlantic Ocean that you have likely never heard of, despite the fact that it is a UNESCO Natural Heritage site, a National Marine Park and sanctuary to Spinner Dolphin and Green Sea Turtles, a top 10 world diving site, home to 16 of the most beautiful beaches in the world—all generally empty by comparison to other destinations you have heard of—and the aquatic Eden of choice for Penelope Cruz and boyfriend Javier Bardim for New Year's Eve 2007. It is a paradise in which only around 750 visitors per day are allowed to enjoy, as decreed by the country's environmental protection agency. Rumor has it even Bono couldn’t get in at year's end. But yours truly, my dear readers, gets to live there several months per year.
Her name is Fernando de Noronha. She lies in Northern Brazil, 200 miles off the coast of Recife, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in a spot that marks it as the first point of South America en route from Europe. It's irritatingly difficult to reach (three flights minimum from the States, count on 24 hours of travel) and even more annoying upon arrival, when you find out, if you haven’t done your research, that you must pay a daily, exponentially rising environmental tax before you get your bags (starts at $19.97/day and goes up from there). By the time you reach your buggy taxi, you are in dire need of a drink. Noronha coast

But Fernando de Noronha is not an umbrella drink kind of place—perhaps that's one of the reasons why Americans don't go there (just a theory)? Only the upper-adventurous of the lowly number of Americans who travel abroad would consider Brazil, and, even so, more likely than not their itineraries don't stretch beyond the big names: Rio de Janeiro, Iguaçu Falls, the Amazon. But Brazil is home to some 4,577 miles of pristine coastline—absolutely, spectacularly blue—all of which is offset by a beautifully bronzed population that has been known to inspire hundreds of whiplash cases per day. So what the hell am I doing here?

A girl, of course. I first came to Noronha in 2005 on assignment for another magazine. I was appointed a translator by Embratur, the Brazilian Tourism Board, and, in addition to her deft English skills, I was impressed by her openness to my seductive journalistic flirtations—you have to sleep with the translator, right? So we got married and Noronha became my second home.

That story may not sound all that remarkable; after all, damn near every foreigner living in Brazil is here due to the unparalleled sexiness of the female population. But you have to see a Brazilian's face when you tell them you live in Noronha. It lights up million dollar jackpot-style—part shock, part disbelief, part jealousy—as if you'd said you own a small plot of land with a view in Heaven itself.

It is, in fact, so remarkable that mainland Brazilians aren’t even allowed to live here. After being de-commissioned as a military base in 1988, Noronha opened its doors for tourism, but only slightly. Locals—that is, descendants of prisoners, prison guards, and other military personal—are permanent residents. All other Brazilians and foreigners have green card-like residence cards, which are far from easy to get (employment is pretty much the only way). They cannot build here, own land here, or open a business here (unless they are partnered with a local). Husbands of Brazilians who live here? We can only stay one month tax-free. After that, a year here in marital bliss will run a tab of about $17,508.04.