New Years Eve in Salvador
The buses into Camamu (port entry town to Barra Grande) were packed, loaded with people and all their crap on their way to spend their holidays in Barra Grande. The buses out of Camamu were empty, and we liked it that way. We were now in the state of Bahia, which is where the majority of the Afro-Brazilians live (something like 80%), with Salvador the capitol. The bus dropped us off at the ferry port in Bom Despacio, where we got our tickets and boarded. While explaining to Vanessa how to say “I’m thirsty” in Portuguese, it seemed that we attracted a lot of attention on the boat, and soon were friends with nearly half of the starboard side of the upper deck. We met a mother and her two daughters (all who speak English) from São Paulo, an 11 year-old girl named Lais and her mother, and another man, his wife, and son (whose name was Sued, deus (god) backwards). The man thought I was a hippie (must have been the bandana on my head)…something about how he used to be a truck driver and drive up and down the coast, picking up hitchhiking hippies. The girl, Lais, was really shy at first, because she heard us talking English and wanted to talk, but was shy to use her English. She got some words out, and we taught her some more, while she taught Vanessa some Portuguese, and I thanked her for that (Vanessa is good at saying, I don’t speak Portuguese, but she does, and points at me; I have to admit that I’m getting pretty good at it now…never thought I could speak Portuguese, but I get along alright); she was so excited to be talking to us…we took photos and got her phone number so we could see her again while we were in Salvador. All this while, I thought we were still in the port, waiting to leave, and yet we were almost to Salvador…the smoothest ferry ride ever.
The next day we started exploring Salvador – a really cute, colonial town, with cobblestone streets, colorful buildings, and supposedly, 365 churches – one for every day of the year. In the main square, fit and flexible (mostly) black men whip their bodies around in all sorts of ways, “playing” capoeira, a dance-marital art, stemming from the slave days, as a way for the slaves to resist their owners. Meanwhile, women of the religion candomblé (an animist religion found mostly, if not only, in Bahia, with roots from their African heritage; the slaves used Catholic saints to represent their gods in order to maintain their beliefs while forced to practice Catholicism) dress in their traditional clothing, selling traditional sacred food of the religion on the street. Salvador had been described to me in all sorts of ways, from “festive, musical, and vibrant” (guidebook material) to “thieving and whoring” (a friend who had a bad experience). I found it be a happy medium…I didn’t find a party or music on every corner at all hours of the day (but they were to be found) but neither did I find theives or whores taking over the city (though they were present as well).
One of the highlights was the Afro-Brazilian museum, which we spent a whole morning in despite it’s small size. The most striking part of this museum was one of the first panels, with a map of the slave trade routes…arrows pointing out of Africa in all directions, to almost every part of the world (except Australia, noteably, and of course, Antarctica, for all those who want to be smart asses), and even within Africa. Man, how did this poor continent and its people manage to get the shaft by the rest of the world? It’s just unbelievable! We think of slavery in America – it wasn’t a new idea…this had been going on for centuries…the Americans were some of the last people to take slaves out of Africa; they were just following suit with how the rest of their European counterparts did things. And who were some of the worst? The Portuguese! Again…how can such a small country have done so much?!
The museum also outlined a little bit of the Candomblé religion – the different gods they worship, some of the traditions they uphold, and some traditional costumes. After the museum, we went to the Catholic church that is the center of the Candomblé religion…Nossa Senhora do Bonfim, another very interesting place. Most churches, when you visit them, have a few people inside praying. This place was packed, perhaps especially so being after Christmas and before the new year, but it very well could be like this all the time. When we got off the bus, vendors ran toward us to sell us souvenirs – the most common being little colorful ribbons that are tied on the wrist, another symbol of candomblé. People come to this church from all over, praying to the patron saint to heal their wounds and illnesses. One chapel on the side was covered with pictures and letters from the cured, with plastic molds hanging from the ceiling, representing the various body parts that hadbeen cured – legs, arms, feet, hands, heads. Inside the church, the pews were packed, people in the aisles, crying, praying. People were crawling into the place, some limping, in wheelchairs, crutches; one woman looked like she had elephantitis of the left leg. This place was alive, crawling with the needy, the sick, the crippled, the hopeful, the hopeless, the tourists.
Finally, it was New Years Eve. Salvador, Brazil. It was going to be great. It’s a tradition in Rio as well as in Salvador to dress in all white for New Years Eve, and I was all about it (mostly as an excuse to buy something a little different to wear…three months of the same clothes gets old. And smelly.) This tradition stems from the followers of Candomblé, who also, according to tradition, jump over 7 waves in the ocean at midnight for good luck (although I never found out the significance of the 7 waves, and trust me, I asked everyone…sorry David).
The big party was down at the beach, where there was a big stage set up, with bands (apparently famous Brazilian bands) going to play, fireworks, and just a big party – supposedly 1 million people. A big group from the hostel headed down together, miraculously staying together. The streets were full of people; there were tons of people selling beer and other drinks from coolers; others were collecting cans (no doubt to collect for the money). The military police would file by occasionally, sometimes 50 or more at a time.
The music was great – forró, axé, and some samba, all Brazilian local music. That’s one thing that I’ve definitely appreciated in Brazil, is all their music. In most countries, you walk down the street and you hear all the same music you’d hear in the States. Not in Brazil…you will occasionally hear some songs, but it’s mostly Brazilian music here, which is great.
So, the night was good. We met a group of local girls and danced all night. We crashed a private party to use the bathroom (alright, we had permission to enter, but they wouldn’t give us any free beer). I escaped the crossfire of champagne bottles being thrown over something or other – who knows. I saw the first sunrise of the year. And, although we didn’t see any of the traditional Candomblé New Years rituals, I did take a dip in the ocean myself…I probably jumped over at least seven waves, so let’s hope the good luck I’ve had so far in 2005 carries on with me into 2006.
I have no doubt.
Tags: Brazil, Salvador, Tag Index
Tania
May 23rd, 2006 at 7:58 pm
Wait… are you not a hippie anymore? How long have I been gone?