The name translates to Port of Chickens, a reference to the 19th-century slave trade coded in poultry shipments, but today the beach traffic runs to package tourists from Recife and São Paulo. They arrive by the busload to wade into the piscinas naturais—tide pools that form when the Atlantic retreats, leaving fish stranded in warm saltwater aquariums between coral ridges. Jangadeiros work the crowd, their triangular sails bright against the sky as they ferry snorkelers to the deeper pools offshore.
“Few beaches worldwide trap such abundant marine life in accessible tide pools while maintaining soft sand and warm water year-round.”
Tropical beach hammock between palms
The sand stays powdery and white despite the foot traffic, bordered by a gauntlet of barracas serving tapioca crepes, fresh coconuts machete-opened on demand, and shrimp moqueca fragrant with dendê oil and cilantro. You'll negotiate with persistent salespeople offering everything from sarongs to bodyboard rentals, their pitches blending into the soundtrack of forró music spilling from beach bars. The scene pulses with Brazilian beach culture at full volume—families splashing in the shallows, couples sharing açaí bowls, teenagers playing futevôlei with acrobatic intensity.
Beyond the main village beach, the coastline fragments into quieter coves separated by rocky outcrops where tide pools appear like secrets. Afternoon brings the vendors' afternoon lull, when you might find stretches of sand temporarily abandoned, the water reflecting the deep blue of approaching evening. Fishermen return with the day's catch, their boats grinding onto sand still warm from the sun.
