Carnaval Hangover

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  Salvador, Brazil
Saturday, February 28, 2004

Getting out of Itacarč was easier said than done. The 6:30am bus was full of bleary eyed party goers, making a run for it while the music still blared. I had to stand for a while and when a seat finally became free I collapsed into it and slept.

I was travelling with Whitney from New York to Morro do Sâo Paulo which was supposedly a beautiful beach town with a massive after-Carnaval Carnaval. We changed buses at Itabuna for Valenįa, and then got a boat to Morro do Sâo Paulo, finally arriving at 3:15pm.

The minute we stepped off the boat we were accosted by wheelbarrow drivers, wanting to take our bags, and us, somewhere. We repeatedly declined the trillions of touts and slowly made our way up the very steep hill to the sandy streets of Morro

01 Pelourinho

. From the moment I got there, I didnīt like it. There were so many tourists, and after the relative tranquillity of Itacarč I didnīt like it.

This feeling was compounded when the cheapest place we could find with a vacancy was R$200 per night for the two of us. Everywhere else wanted to sell us packages for 6 nights, and I was only planning on staying three, and Whitney one so we decided to cut our losses and catch the last catamaran for Salvador at 4:30pm.

We picked a hostel in Salvador at random from our guidebook and hoped that they would have a vacancy for us. As we drove through the city in the taxi I couldnīt believe how quiet it was for 7:30pm. There was hardly any traffic and virtually no one wandering around. The city was hungover.

The next day I wandered around the streets of Pelourinho, the old part, and marvelled at the steep cobbled streets and colourful colonial buildings. There were a number of Carnaval decorations and massive puppets still up. In the Terreiro do Jesus stands were being dismantled and there was a feeling of tiredness about the city.

02 Pelourinho 2

I attempted to go to a Candomblé house, which is like a cult where they go into trance, with some other girls, but we hadnīt booked a space on the tour and they wouldnīt let us follow in a taxi. A couple of the girls were really persistent, but Isabel and I werenīt that keen after we were told no, so we went out for a drink instead, and satisfied ourselves with hearing about it from a Swedish guy at breakfast the next day.

I really wanted to go to the cinema, so I made the trek to Iguatemi Shopping which was conveniently located across the road from the rodoviária, so I could purchase my bus ticket to Recife at the same time. The shopping centre was huge and unlike home, was a maze of shops rather than opening out onto a central concourse. Somehow I managed to find the cinema and went to see Encontros e Desencontros which was Lost in Translation and thankfully in English. Although this was supposedly the largest cinema complex in Salvador, the cinema was quite small, but true to Brazilian form, the seats reclined more than they do at home. Surprisingly, the cinema was quiet until the previews started. No welcome music (and the Brazilians love their music) and no ads.

On the bus ride back to Pelourinho, I saw the massive grandstands being dismantled along the waterfront. There were so many of them and it was really hard to imagine the place crawling with people during Carnaval.

I stopped to watch a Michael Jackson impersonator (he looked more like Michael Jackson in the 80īs) and then was watching capoeira in the Terreiro do Jesus when I was grabbed by the capoeira master and taken over to the side and made to clap in time with the music. Mestre Macaco then shoved aside one of the drummers so that I could have a turn at beating the drum. This was probably not such a good idea as I have no idea how to carry a rythm and struggled with the beat.

I then became Mestre Macacoīs bag and key holder while he played the drums and then got into the capoeira circle. I wasnīt the only foreign girl pulled up to the side. Any girl that got the attention of one of the capoeira performers would be dragged up and made to clap in time. Some of the guys were so acrobatic in their fighting style, it was awesome to watch, and being under Mestre Macacoīs protection meant that I didnīt have to give them money in the tambourine or buy a CD!! Unfortunately, it also meant that I had to kiss him as I was now his īwomanī and he shooed away other guys that he thought were threatening his catch.

Managing to finally unentangle myself from Mestre Macaco under the vague promise of returning later in the night so that I could show him my kickboxing technique and he would teach me capoeira, I took off as fast as I could, waving briefly to the other guys there, and shrugging off one other guys attentions.

Hiding in the hostel I met some guys and a girl and I decided to go out with them. We went for a drink and then found a samba club a couple of streets from the hostel. It didnīt take long for me to receive the attentions of David, who didnīt speak English, but he had his friend, an English teacher along with him to translate. Soon after, Cleo was grabbed by one of his other friends and they talked to us for ages. David was so persisent in getting my email address that I finally gave in and gave it to him, although I doubt I will get an email from him.

Cleo and I were hungry so we got a grilled cheese stick, which is a slab of cheese on a stick that is grilled over a billy can of coals, with the heat fanned onto the cheese. They are very tasty and we ate it as we went back to the hostel to use the toilet. Coming back to the club we were both grabbed simultaneously by the two guys that each of us had eyed off earlier. After a little bit, we ended up going to another bar where there was reggae with our blokes. Wellington, who I ended up kissing (of course - impossible not to!) was 23 and 194cm tall. He kept telling me that he was shy, but I certainly didnīt believe him for one second. I made a bit of conversation with Wellington, but Cleo couldnīt understand anything that her guy was saying to her and she was using my phrasebook to help her. After declining Wellingtonīs tempting offers of a massage - although I knew exactly where it would end up - Cleo and I left at 3:30am and were walked back to the hostel by the two of them. Cleo had even arranged to meet up with her guy again the next night!!

My last day in Salvador was an expensive one. I succombed to the shopping urge and bought myself some capoeira pants, some miniture paintings of colourful Salvadorian buildings, some jewellry and a CD of Carnaval music at the Mercado Modelo. Later, I wandered around the Iguatemi Shopping while waiting for my bus to leave and I bought another little Brazilian bikini.

What I learned
* Every guy I meet does capoeira (and it does nice things to their bodies too!)
* Shopping centre food courts are all the same
* Bahia has the largest black population outside of Africa

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