In Trancoso, Even the Dogs Are VIPs

Freedom, Magic, and Mischief in a Brazilian Beach Town

My favourite geriatric hustler.

Trancoso is a bohemian town nestled amongst the Atlantic Forests of Bahia, Northern Brazil. At its heart lies the “Quadrado”, a grassy square framed by colourful houses and ancient figs. A simple, whitewashed 17th century cathedral presides with regal authority. By night, strings of light glow across the trees, street vendors set up their stalls and dogs weave between children playing in the dust. Music drifts from open air restaurants—Bahian rhythms with West African roots—lending the air a sense of enchantment. It’s how I might imagine the fictional town of Macondo (Gabriel Garcia Marquez - 100 Years of Solitude), steeped in magical realism as if the trees themselves may decide to sing.

But Trancoso is hardly a secret. Since its rise in the early 2000s, it’s become a fashionable stop for Brazilians and foreigners alike—a-listers, models, the so-called VIP crowd. Behind the old world “Macondo” façade lie exclusive beach clubs, expensive boutiques, and fancy restaurants polished for a global audience.

Lounging at a beach club for free.

But the real VIP’s are the street dogs. Well fed and endlessly indulged, they pad around town with glossy coats and that universal sign of prosperity, huge bellies. They eat each night at the best tables, lounge each day at the trendiest beach clubs and receive massages on demand.

The locals don’t just tolerate them; they care for them— knowing most of them by name, leaving bowls of food and water outside shops and restaurants and even vaccinating as many as they can. They greet favorites with a rub or a snack and the dogs return the kindness with unshakable good cheer, bounding over with wagging tails and excited murmurs. They chase kids around the streets. Bark at the ponies mowing the grassy Quadrado. Lie under diners tables hoping for a scrap. They belong to the town but, more accurately, they think the town belongs to them.

Looking guilty after inhaling someone’s Tapioca wrap.

And the dogs would have it no other way. A shopkeeper once tried to “rescue” a favorite, offering him a bed and the comforts of domestic life. But the dog, used to freedom and indulgence, cried each night for a return to his bohemian lifestyle on the streets. No toy, bed or bribe could change his mind. In the end, the kindly shopkeeper had no option but to reunite him with the endless opportunities of the Quadrado.

Not all dogs are strays though. Many have owners, although “ownership” here is loosely defined. Collared pets roam with the street dogs, tagging along like little siblings—begging, stealing, chasing, barking—without a leash or a watchful eye. One wonders how they feel when their holiday ends and they’re summoned back to apartments in São Paulo or Rio, forced to trade the beaches of Trancoso for the city park. I imagine them listlessly staring out of the window, longing for those halycon days of pure freedom.

Not a stray, but its not begging from its owner either..

My favourite was a geriatric Labrador cross. Grey around the muzzle, he moved at half speed but with a strategists mind. He was by far the most effective operator we saw. Mornings were spent outside the best café, rewarded with banana bread and bacon. By afternoon he’d shuffled to the restaurant with the all you can eat buffet for meat stew. It was here I saw him reject an offering of fish three times before beef was provided. Evenings found him at the restaurant with the liveliest band and the most generous drunks. It was a perfect system, his bulging midriff providing ample evidence of its effectiveness.

So what does it say about a place when its dogs live like this? Trancoso is an open, welcoming place where every culture and orientation can find a home. It doesn’t just tolerate difference—it celebrates it. That spirit is visible everywhere. In the art, the food, the way people dress and the way people live. It’s of course not perfect, being a wealthy tourist destination in an otherwise struggling part of Brazil. But everyone here is free to be themselves. And that same generosity extends to its most vulnerable four legged citizens, who are cared for and loved as part of the community. And they thrive as a result. Now isn’t that a great metaphor for life.

Until next time.