A few of the roads were closed, and the cabbie couldn't seem to find even the most famous street in Salvador, so we spent a good half hour driving around. They let us off outside of the guys' hostel, and one of them walked me down the street to mine. They said they's swing by to pick me up and take me out later.
I checked in to Hostel Cobreu, got myself settled, and headed down to the bar below.
There I met Marcus, the awesome bartender, Hector, the owner of the bar and hostel, and Gustavo, Hector's little brother. (Plus the two crackhead next-door neighbors, one of whom is an influential artist and the other of whom has been wearing the same bizarre rubber costume for years in protest against the government. Protesting, what, you might ask? No one seems quite sure.)
We danced samba in the bar until 1am, at which point, Hector decided to close the bar and move the party to Largo de Santana, the largely local bar area. Since I hadn't heard from the Argies, I went along and had a great time.
The next morning, I slept in and then spent the early afternoon reading on the balcony and looking over the fantastic views of the Pelourhino, the square where slaves were once auctioned and which now serves as the hub of the historic district.
I then headed out into Salvador on my own, and the first thing I saw was a group of pranksters knocking a port-a-potty down the historic staircase outside of our door. (That's the hostel on the left.) Their buddy emerged from the potty, angry as hell, ass hanging out, but fortunately unscathed.
For a while, I just wandered around the central historic areas.
I stopped into a museum of old Salvadoran postcards and dropped in and out of shops until the pounding sun became too much for me.
Later that evening, my roomie Fabian and I decided to head out to for dinner and stumbled upon a great place called Zulu, where I had a delicious grilled fish with rice and veggies. Gotta love fresh seafood. For some reason, I still felt knackered, so I headed to bed shortly thereafter, asking Fabian's apologies for my constant yawning despite his excellent company.
The next morning, I had planned to head north to the beaches of Praia de Forte with Marcus the bartender, but inclement weather put a kibosh on that. Instead I went exploring with Stefan, another of my roomies, through the local churches, which proved largely unremarkable other than the hysterical use of one of the ornate balconies as an office, file cabinets and all.
Stefan got bored quickly and headed back to the hostel, while I continued to wander through the main square.
An impromptu street concert sprung up. A group of local men set up a folding table and chairs, pulled out instruments and beer, and began to play. The crowd sang along and danced for almost an hour. I loved every minute!
As the party finished up, I headed into the most famous of the Salvadoran churches: Sao Francisco.
Nearly every inch of the apse (__?__) was covered in gold leaf. Slaves had crafted all of the artwork, and as revenge for their forced labor, they made many of the cherubs pregnant or hugely endowed. Many of the giant phalluses had actually been chopped off of the statues, they were considered so indecent!
On my way back to the hostel, I caught a capoeira show in the street, and the dancers/fighters invited me to meet them in the square that night to go out to hear some music. I told them I'd think about it.
When I returned to the hostel, Stefan and Teo, another hostel-goer invited me to walk down to the city beach in the neighborhood of Bahia. But ten minutes in, I realized I had left my wallet behind for the second time that day and Stefan had left his computer out on the bed, so I boomeranged back and let the guys go on without me.
I decided instead to venture out to JAMatMAM an outdoor Jazz night at the Museo do Arte Moderno. Fabian wound up coming with me, and we had an incredible time running in and out of the tents to escape the intermittent showers and bopping along to the music on the waterfront.
We then figured we'd see what we could get up to with the capoeira guys I had met earlier in the day. Pantera, Raol, and their friend, whose name now escapes me, were waiting on the square, and they took us to a cool little dining spot, with an amazing carne de sol.
Afterward, Fabian abandoned ship, but the rest of the boys took me to the excellent and funky Sankofa Bar to dance some samba and listen to some Afro-Brazilian soul.
We got such a good workout on the dance floor that I knew that when my head hit the pillow that night, I would sleep soundly.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Salvador de Bahia, Brazil
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