A Night in Salvador

To be honest, I was sick in Salvador. I arrived - or rather, Warren and I arrived - on Monday, November 10th via 36 hour bus from Belem. Tuesday was a really good day, but Wednesday until my arrival in Rio Friday is kind of touchy. I slept a lot, spent some quality time with the porcelain piece of furniture, then slept some more. I can, however, tell you of Tuesday.

Warren and I decided to go to the beach - and not just any beach. People in our hostel recommended taking the bus to Arembepe. We did. Stepped off at the last stop made by the bus to Arembepe and turned left at the basketball court. The town has two rows of buildings, and past the one left of the basketball court is the beach.

The Atlantic.

The sand felt like butter - I've never felt sand so soft. We walked past groups of fishermen and a sea turtle conservation project. Throughout the day, families came and went - their kids digging holes to sit in past the tide line and waiting excitedly for the waves to come and flood them out, seeing who could stay seated longest in the neck-high water as it tried to pull them back to sea.

We ate ice cream as we waited for the bus back. After a shower, dinner, and dark, we went out for a walk. Tuesday night in Pelourinho - Salvador's historic district - was supposed to be good. It was. There are a lot of black people in Salvador. Pelourinho means whipping post in Portuguese. The air beat with the sound of drums.

We sat on the steps of a church, watched a man with a green feather in his hat raise a glass of wine to the crowd before blowing his trombone. His band took up the rhythm, the crowd cheered, and women began to dance and sing - braids swaying.

Further down the street a drum troop unlike any I have ever seen. All women and girls. I don't think I could ever move like that. We stood against a building of the narrow street, memorized. Mallets flew, hips swerved, heads snapped. I don't think I could ever move like that. We walked on through hip-hop dancers and street performers, the air still beating.