The 3 hour boat ride back to Salvador destroyed my stomach. An hour before boarding the boat, I grabbed the quickest lunch I could find; the greasiest fried empanada I could find. It also took them 1/2 hour to make which can only mean they fried it, took it out, fried it again…and so on.
The long wait for my drenching empanada meant I had 15 minutes to run back to the hotel, finish packing, and run a mile uphill with my 50 pound backpack with a broken strap that no longer supports the weight. It was tough. Especially in my $2 sandals I bought at CVS.
I made it just as the boat was about to leave! My French friend was not so lucky. The boat had left the dock and we had to go back to get her.
The waters were a bit rough at first. But my French buddy convinced me to climb up top and watch the sea. What a mistake! It felt like the film “The Perfect Storm” with the boat being thrown about the sea, riding on top of 10 feet waves.
I quickly climbed the ladder down and sat back inside. This was also not so easy. I accidentally slapped some poor guy on the shoulder as I stumbled to sit down on a bench. Even worse, he started up conversation. Having a chat was the last thing I wanted to do when all I could think about was not vomiting all over the guy.
Soon enough I did vomit. I have to say that I did it professionally. Almost like I had thrown up on boats many times. I motioned for a bag…vomited…quickly handed the bag to the “boat guy”, and laid back down.
A few hours later we arrived back in Salvador’s port. I said goodbye to my French friend and hurried to the elevator that would take me to the upper city, to find a cheap place to sleep. The goal was to accomplish this before dark, when Pelourinho becomes dangerous to those carrying all of their belongings on their back.
yadda yadda yadda I found a hostel. As I was eating dinner I heard lots of noise outside so i ate my meal rather fast. It was spectacular. The place really came alive. I followed my ears to the music. It was everywhere. Drummers marching through the streets, free concerts in the main square and outdoor concert hall. Everywhere.
I woke up rather late again the next morning for some more site seeing and reading.
More churches. Jesus!
I exhausted most of my options in Pelourinho. Like many touristy areas in so called dangerous cities, locals and tourists alike tend to warn of nearby areas for being dangerous. I ignored this warning and I opted to walk in the opposite direction and explore the unknown. Opposite Pelourinho (a tourist mecca) was downtown Salvador, bustling in all its glory.
The next four hours were tiring but worthwhile. I ate cheap, yet quality per kilo and fresh coconut juice. I passed by parks with old men sitting on benches, a universal sight.
I passed street vendors selling little toys, bras, and bananas. Everything really.
I even cooled off in a mall for an hour, sitting on one of the benches just like an old man in a park.
Later on I found myself lost, wandering into the more trashy looking areas. This park smelt like shit and was filled with the homeless sleeping.
I did make my way back after an officer pointed in the direction of where I wanted to be.
This is not my bed. Just the bed opposite mine.