March 9th - 13th: Arraial d'Ajuda
The Journey
An 18 hour coach journey took Helen and I from the mountain town of Ouro Preto via Belo Horizonte (of which we saw only sky scrapers and the busy bus station) to Porto Seguro on the coast of Brazil. From there we jumped on a local bus to the ferry terminal, got a boat over to Arraial d'Ajuda and then another local bus to an IH hostel. If there is one thing that I am not going to miss about Brazil, it's the local buses. As soon as you get on them, you are confronted with a turnstile which, with a rucksack on your back, another on your front and a bag in your hands, is like facing a 6ft wall. Sometimes if you smile very sweetly, the person taking the money at the turnstile will let you stay at the front of the bus. More often than not, however, you are forced to go through as the bus pulls off (they never seem to wait for you to sit down) and face the possibility of either getting stuck in the middle of the turnstile or falling flat on your face in front of fellow passengers as someone from behind gives you a mighty shove to get you through. They really become draining, especially as these buses normally follow a night journey during which you have had no sleep because you are not used to sleeping in an upright position, it was freezing, music was playing, your hands and feet went numb, some disturbing video was on, the man near you was snoring, there was a stop for dinner just as you managed to drop off or, more than likely, all of the above.
The Town
Arrial d'Ajuda is a pretty enough place but with almost every building being a restaurant or tour operator it felt a little superficial. Still, it has a beach on its doorstep and is home to South America's largest water park (according to our edition of the Lonely Planet ... maybe there is only one on the continet?) so we were happy to be there.
Memorable Moments
Watching the moon coming out over the beach from a bar on our first night (with Queen blasting out of some speakers – there are few quiet moments in South America), getting washed over by a wave as we dozed on the sand with our heads towards the shore (ipod and camera luckily dried out!), trying to save money by cooking at the hostel but going mad on the accompaniments of beer, wine and chocolates in the supermarket and flashing the queue when we plunged into the pool from the zip line ride at the water park.
A Surreal Incident
Bumping into Nick and Sam, with whom Robbie and I had travelled with for a week in Sumatra some 4 months ago, at the water park. I had no idea that they were even in Brazil so was in complete shock when I heard my name being called out as I was climbing the steps to the slides. Brazil is a pretty huge country (about the size of continental United States); to have actually arranged to meet Nick and Sam would probably have been very difficult; to be in the same small town on the same day is therefore a little coincidental and to have chosen the same day to go to the water park really got me thinking about how funny life can be. I wonder how many other people I know are currently travelling around South America? What about all the people I could have nearly bumped in to? I wonder if we'd be surprised at how few coincidences there actually are if we knew how many possible coincidences there could be? Am side-tracking a bit now but I was just very surprised and happy to see them. Naturally, there were drinks to be had that night and the mobile cocktail bar in the main square was the ideal location.
Food
As always, we didn't go hungry in Arraial: some culinary highlights were burgers on arrival (yes, fast food can be a highlight - after a 23 hour journey you don't have the patience to wait long for a meal), tapioca pancakes on the way back from the beach filled with banana, coconut, cinnamon and condensed milk; and our final lunch at a “pay per kilo” place (typical of Brazil) where I piled my plate high for 14 Reais (just over 4 GBP) And our mum worries if we are eating enough ...
March 14th - 16th: Salvador
I was very much looking forward to seeing Salvador; the first colonial capital of Brazil (until 1763 and now its third most populous city), where over 80 % of the population of the metropolitan region has Black African ancestry and whose people I imagined to have rhythm and rum running through their body and souls (its carnaval is said to be en par if not better than Rio's.)
As it was, however, we arrived in Salvador feeling very tired, ill, hungry and irritated. The night bus from Porto Seguro had once again been freezing and my sense of excitement at having arrived in the mysterious, enticing, raved-about Salvador soon drained away as we struggled for over an hour to get a minibus to take us to Barra, the coastal area of Salvador where we'd booked a hostel.
All in all, we didn't have a great first morning. The street our hostel was on seemed dodgy, our dorm was small and already occupied by a few girls whose cosmetics and clothes were sprawled everywhere and we struggled to find anywhere decent for breakfast. When we eventually found a coffee bar place at noon, the muesli and fruit I believed I had ordered (by pointing to a picture on the wall), turned out to be a large bowl of ice-cream, what the Brazilians call acia – not the most satisfying of breakfasts!
Everything seemed to get better, however, when we got to the beach, which was becoming the customary first stop in a place after a night journey. When I went for a swim I was very much aware that I was not merely the only foreign looking person in the water but also the only woman. I didn't particularly feel unsafe, just very conscious of how much I probably stood out. We hadn't been there long when a Brazilian man asked us to keep an eye on his things when he went for a swim. Soon thereafter, Helen and the guy, Cleiton, were playing bat and ball together and we had found a friend and guide for the next couple of days.
Cleiton gave us a wonderful tour of his city: he brought us to a restaurant in his neighbourhood where we ate a delicious prawn dish whilst watching the sun go down; took us around the historical centre, Pelourinho; showed us the market where the African slaves had been kept in the basement, and proved he was really Brazilian by dancing amazingly at an open air beach concert/party which nicely coincided with our stay. We wanted to stay longer in Salvador – we would have liked to have tried surfing, seen the turtles on Praia do Forte, sample some more of the nightlife – but we were conscious that we had to get to the Amazon by the last week in March. In the two weeks since Helen's arrival, we had come quite far - we were about half way up Brazil's coast - but that still meant we had to travel about 1700 Km to Belem and fly to Manaus ... all within one week!
March 17th - 19th: Olinda
Arrival
Another night bus with seats at the back opposite the toilet brought us from Salvador to a bus station on the outskirts of Recife from where we took the metro into the centre and a local bus to Olinda. In the usual fashion of dripping in sweat and verging on grumpiness, we then tracked down a hostel and were delighted to find one with a swimming pool. After a good night's sleep in a bed (how you come to appreciate the horizontal position after a string of night buses), we woke to a wonderful breakfast of fruit, scrambled eggs, biscuits, fresh juice and coffee and the world was right again.
Finding Our Feet
Our hostel was on the main road next to the coast. It was busy, noisy and Recife's industry and sky scrapers could be seen in the distance making us wonder if we were really in one of Brazil's best-preserved colonial cities. Luckily we ventured further afield than the swimming pool, nearby square and supermarket on our second day and discovered the justification for Olinda's admiration: colourful colonial buildings, cobbled streets brought alive with carnaval decorations, ice cream parlours, art galleries, artesan stalls and numerous churches overlooking the sea. It was a pleasure just strolling around, popping into shops and taking in the atmosphere.
Food
Always keen to try out the local street food, we pointed and bought. Unfortunately this time we weren't so impressed – greasy deep fried potato balls filled with tomatoes, onions and prawns still in their shells – maybe the shell taste has to be acquired. We were more successful at shopping for dresses. Oh the excitement of a having something pretty after spending most of the past 7 months in scruffy travelling gear!
Tests of Patience
The usual small incidences, which could occur in any place ... for example, walking around on empty stomachs in the midday heat trying to find a decent place to eat, spending hours in an internet cafe trying to upload photos and only hearing the comforting rotation of the cash machine at HSBC after about ten attempts with different cards.
Overall impression
"Linda!” ;-) (linda is the Spanish word for lovely/beautiful).
