Results tagged “Bahia” from Ben Burford: Ben's Brazil Bacation

It was late when we arrived in Salvador, but of course we had gotten a second wind for the obvious reasons. On the way to Carol's house from the airport, we ran into a couple of Bahian oddities (Bahia is the state Salvador is in. Like Alabama only, uh, bigger): First, Carol would run red lights on a whim. She explained that at that time of night, the driver could use his own judgment about whether to stop or not. The traffic police were really laid back. WOW! What a concept. We also saw that the traffic lights had a countdown monitor that told how long it would be before the light would change.




The second oddity came in the form of a dead chicken and a bunch of fruit and flowers in a bowl by the side of the road. At an intersection, actually, as Carol told us. It's called a bozó, and it's part of a traditional Candomble (a religion of the Yoruba tribe) rite for good luck or spirit warding or something.
She said that sometimes they'll put liquor in there, but I would be of the mind to ward off my own spirits with my own spirits. Give the gods the chicken and fruit.

Things were already beginning to button up for Carnaval, and we saw that streets were already being blocked, even though the festival beginning was two days away. We encountered one of these flimsy blockades--a couple of big cones, actually. Carol pointed out that we needed to go through there to get to her house. Bolstered by her description of lax traffic police, I jumped out of the car and began moving the cones.

Immediately, a couple of guys with temporary vests on came running to the car to see what we were up to. Carol explained to them in [what I thought at the time was] flawless Portuguese. They smiled, gave us the thumbs up (Brazil's favorite sign, and very addictive) and waved us on our way. We began winding up a long hill in the Rio Vermelho section when we came to a gate and a gatekeeper. He gave the thumbs up to Carol, raised the gate, and we pulled up next to the first house on the left.

Wow! Security and everything. She explained that the neighborhood employed security after a few incidents had spoiled their peace of mind. It seemed to be an ordinary necessity of living in the city.

The house was incredible. Built in the 60's, it was three levels of great taste in decorating and function with a ventilation system that made the hot Brazilian summer still hot, but more bearable. Oh yeah, I was hot, all right. Perpetually hot. I quickly realized that the house wasn't air conditioned, but the bedrooms were. I found out that electricity is so expensive in Brazil that central air is out of the question for all but some public buildings and the ridiculously rich.

We went downstairs to the huge indoor/outdoor first floor of the house: open on the periphery, but covered in the middle. A couple of lanais were draped with blooming vines. The stonework was incredible, and it was then that we discovered that most of the granite in the world comes from Brazil. The variety and installation differences were stunning.

Carol fixed us a delicious cacophony of Brazilian drinks with fresh fruit: (she tells me umburoska, aceroloska, and cajuroska, It was totally sublime, especially after the TAM-athon we had been through that day.

We were staying in Daniel's room, so we turned our AC on to cool the room off. The Kennemers would stay in the guest room. Daniel was staying in the den, and didn't seem to mind giving up his room at all. I realized on our last day why he loved it in there so much. It was dark, and it was like an icebox in the small space when he turned on the AC. It was Heaven.

Before we went to bed, Carol came in to explain the toilet. We didn't really need any help with that, per se, but she explained that in Brazil, the plumbing and sewer systems are less than stellar. For that reason, the custom is that most Brazilians don't flush toilet paper. They put it in a nice garbage can with a lid on it right next to the toilet.

Carol dropped that bomb first, watched our eyes bulge out, then followed it with a quick: "but we Cerqueiras flush toilet paper. Oh yes we do. And if we have a problem, we get the plunger or we call the man. This is just to let you know how to proceed. Don't put too much paper in at a time." So simple. And her emphatic delivery assured me that some things American are always American.

She also mentioned that they drink bottled water in the house, and that tap water was fine for toothbrushing, and was probably okay, but they still drank bottled water. By that time I was paying less attention than I might should have, being so relieved at having been waived on the toilet paper custom.

Slept like rocks until Jean's delightful blackberrry alarm told us what was up.

Egads! It's hard to do this sometimes. But it's vital information for everyone in the world, and I must carry on. There. I'm better.

We were right in the thick of pre-Carnaval madness, right there by the sea. Carol had told me to be careful of my camera. She even advocated not carrying it in some instances, which I agreed with. However, though she said it would be okay to take it with me, her warnings rang in my head, I clutched my camera like a touchdown football wrapped in a blue waterproof duffelette bag with a drawstring that I wrapped around my hand and held tight. I must have looked like an idiot, actually. Then, when I wanted to take a picture, I had to go through an elaborate procedure to even get the camera out, much less focused. Somehow, I managed to take the 1300 pictures despite this condition.

But I wasn't going to be "that guy" with the big camera case slung over his shoulder, gawking at the buildings while I was quietly or loudly burglarized. I wanted to "blend."

Right. Blend. In the first place, I didn't wear any of that quick-dry stuff that Carol had told us was so dern popular down there. Eeek! Anything that is over 1% polyester is not for me. It makes me feel like I'm in a Reynolds Browning Bag, and, quite candidly, chafes my tender nipples. This quick dry stuff is, like, 112% polyester, with the rest being a man-made "fiber" of some kind. I'm sure it will be found to cause cancer in the future.

No, I wear good old 100% cotton, which not only shows sweat, but touts it. I guess my sweaty head could have been another clue. And the pitiful thing is, none of the Brazilians would sweat at all. Neither did Robo. He was amazing. Encased in the shiniest, most water repellent fabric known to man, he managed to carry on for 18 days with nary a drop. The girls would "glisten" like any good Southern girl will.

At any rate, since we had gotten there, I had  begun to drink water like a lost prospector, and could never quite quench my thirst. Hence the amplified sweating and sodden cotton shirts, And the exacerbating of the galding that really didn't turn out to be quite as bothersome as it was funny looking. Jean managed to get a good laugh on a couple of early mornings during the trip when she witnessed the galding that was beginning to look like a clown face.

At this point, many of you may be saying "TMI! TMI!" Well, I'm sorry. There can NEVER be too much information. What I was pointing out via this ramble is that I actually bought water from one of these street vendors while clutching my camera and eyeing everybody with my rapidly rotating head. But they all looked so benign and happy that I began to think that I may be a little paranoid. I loosened up. Especially since we were heading into

Santo Antonio Fortress and Lighthouse
A nautical museum at Farol da Barra. Oldest structures date to 1500s. WOW!

We got to the gate guy, and Carol (using her flawless Portuguese again) explained that Robo was a professor, so we got a discount on our admission. By this time, I was completely at ease with my camera being there, because there were a couple of guards hanging around, and I figured that a ruffian wouldn't pay the admission to come in and MAYBE steal something. Nope. Safety. But, quite frankly, the guards were probably about as effective as old Asa on Andy Griffith.

The museum was really good, with tons of information about how the area had been important to ships and shipping for so long, blah blah blah. It was old. It was beautiful. It was by the water. I took several shots out of the little windows. They're kinda blurry, but cool nevertheless.

There was a wall of ships in bottles, which are amazing. Who has the time? Patience? I suppose it'd be perfect for a laid-back Bahian to have as a hobby.




By this time, it had begun to cool off a decent amount, and I had all but ceased sweating. It was nice to know that I was actually going to spend some dry time on this trip.

There was a giant promenade area outside the museum on the top floor, that allowed panoramic views of the bay and the nighttime beauty beyond. I got some cool shots, hand-held, of course. Hence the blur. I don't care. Holding a camera for a 2 second exposure is not easy. But results are always interesting.

Here are a couple of pics of Daniel & Patricia/Robo & Pettus that I liked.


Here's that 2-second exposure shot. Notice the tiny little cruise ship in the distance. That's the same ship pictured earlier in part 3 and a couple of shots prior in this part.
 
I've always liked these little turret things. It's quite easy to imagine some little grunt Portuguese navy guy standing in there all day or all night, watching for something he hoped he never saw.