Salvador, At Last
30 June 2005 (Thursday) – Salvador, Brazil
It took me more than 24 hours to reach Salvador. It was a long, long ride to me. But when we stopped for lunch or dinner, I would spot other buses with the signs : São Paolo – Fortaleza / Rio – Natal and I would think, OK, your 24-hour bus ride is just a wimpy one compared to these epic journeys, that take… I don’t know… 2 or 3 days?
I often see Brazilians travelling with pillows. There they would be, with their luggage on one hand, the bus ticket and then, a pillow and sometimes, a blanket on the other. They always come prepared because they k-n-o-w.
I had an address of a hostel that I got off the internet. When I got there, I found the price to be R19 for tonight, and R24 from tomorrow onwards. Tomorrow is 1 July, so I supposed it is the price of the peak season. I squirmed when I heard the prices, and the guy at the door was quick to point to an alternative hostel nearby that was cheaper. I walked there… there was not even a sign for the pousada. But the very sweet elderly senhora showed me around the huge house. It had a kitchen for use, an open-air balcony with a great view of Salvador and for R15 a night, I much preferred this. Also, I liked the adorable senhora very much.
Later, I learnt that there were several Japanese staying at this pousada. Trust the Japanese to sniff out the cheapest places to crash. I knew I was in the cheapest possible place in Salvador, considering how touristy it is, and how near this house is to the historical centre.
These Japanese backpackers have their own little Japanese travel guidebooks that no one else can read, and while they usually travel alone, or in pairs, there are so many of them travelling (and usually for very long) that they have this large network of connections and informers which allowed them to offer one another good travel tips, cheapie accommodations and other information encoded in their secret tongue.
I wanted to head out for dinner. The elderly senhora was on the phone but I heard her shouting something to me. She hurried out, still on the phone, and kept saying, “Não pasaporte… não pasaporte… não cartão… não camara… poco poco dinheiro” (No passport… no passport… no card… no camara… little little money). OK, she was warning me of the dangers of Salvador robbers. She told me in the day, it was OK… but at night, bring nothing of value and as little money out as possible.
OK, here in Brazil, when the sun sets at 5pm, by 6pm, it is practically pitch-black. So, from 6pm onwards, it would be considered ‘night’.
I returned to my room to strip myself of the unwanteds… or rather, the wanteds and then, I was back outside. Pelourinho, the historical centre, would still have restaurants and pubs opened and it would be crawling with tourists at this ‘late’ hour of 8pm. But here, at Santo Antonio, everything was shut already. As I did not feel like going to Pelourinho to eat at touristy little restaurants, I simply bought a can of meat at a store that was about to shut, and returned home to cook.
At the kitchen, I chatted with a Japanese in Spanish, as that was our common language. He had been travelling for more than 1 year, from Canada to Ushuaia, at the southern tip of Argentina and now to Brazil by motorcycle! Oh my gosh, poor motorcycle!!!! And after this, he still has another year in Europe, Middle East and Asia. Wow!!
Tags: 03) The Land of the Spirits, Salvador
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