(20-II-2001) In the morning, before breakfast, I finished Praise of lies that I loved it, and I started Tropicalia: a history of musical uma Revolução, Carlos Calado. This Brazilian habit of waking up at seven, because everything is flooded with light. I am the only man in the house. The rest, a lot of women, almost all coming for the carnival, from Spain and elsewhere in Brazil. Were crammed into the rooms. But Dagmar has left us a room just for anyone and for me, with a double mattress on the floor. Had long been asking us to come and is delighted with our visit. Behaves as a perfect host. At bottom, both on his part as ours, there is a joy to see us here in Bahia, after all Torremolinos. Nadia is also the first visit. In the previous tour travel known cities (Rio, Belo Horizonte and Vitória) and it was she who guided me. Today was Dagmar which has led us both. After Manhã coffee and shower (under the chuveiro joy !), We took the bus from the three Stiepan to Campo Grande. From here, walk through the downtown streets: Avenida Sete de Setembro, Praça Castro Alves, the viewpoint of the Praça Tomé de Souza, the next Elevador Lacerda, the Cidade Baixa to the feet and the sea with the Forte de São Marcelo and the island of Itaparica in front, and finally the famous Pelourinho, very repainted in pastel colors and decorations filled carnival. Here, in front of the Fundação Casa de Jorge Amado (where I decided not to go), I have retained a capoeiristas to make me a photo. I have been holding a berimbau, and without that I had time to undo the face of an asshole (I hate being taken as the end of the era: a tourist), they have landed in a professional and no one has tripped. Unpleasant feeling of being the foreigner and I here them Malaga shakers.
After touring the streets, we stopped to take a draft beer in a bar Terreiro de Jesus. Then bus to Barra. While Nadia and Dagmar have been to change money, I've been watching the bathers on the beach, on the parapet. The atmosphere here is more relaxed than in Rio, everything is looser and a bit more cumbersome. Has an air of Malaga. I thought that if I lived in Salvador, I would do right by the beach and not in the Pelourinho. Then we walked the boardwalk to the Barra Shopping, where I bought Inferno, the latest novel by Patricia Melo. We lunched in one of those delicious food bars Quil (which are the majority most of the bars here are delicious) and, late afternoon, we took another bus that has led us down the coast. More beaches, indicating that we would Dagmar: Ondina, Paciência, Rio Vermelho, Amarilina, Pituba, Jardim dos Namorados, Jardim de Allah ... We have stepped in it and we walked to the next beach, which is to Armação. From here we headed home now, for the Convention Center. The pulse of the city on this day of preparations for the carnival. They had finished assembling the cabin the avenues of the circuit.
And at night, again in the Pelourinho for the feast of Olodum. Drums, sweat and beer. First acarajé . Heater to see the black dancing and think about the possibilities, had come alone. But the melancholy remains in the chamber. I'd rather have been, like last year, to enjoy your trip without the sex to absorb everything.
(21-II-2001) The cafezinho at Shopping Iguatemi after lunch. The girls have gone shopping and I have stayed at a table with coffee, newspapers and moleskine. I loved the way the waitress asked "adoçante ou Açúcar?." I have come forward to ask "adoçante" only to dilute his accent in my coffee, but I told him sugar. This morning I followed the Tropicália reading on the couch lit (Bahia sky in the background): the first steps of Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Maria Bethânia, Tom Zé ... Then in the following Shopping overpost bus ride. Bookstores supplied here are less than those of Rio, but belong to the same chain Siciliano (most of Rio, however, was the Saraiva). I've been trying on shirts without sleeves, to hide in the tropics. Fast emails and chat in the office of Telemar, is fun to say "Greetings from Brazil" and you will not believe. And after dinner, gostosa as usual. Have been only my bearings would probably others (not much shopping would step, of course), but I let myself go. I'll see everything without too much passion, but welcome. I would live a good season to Salvador, as I supposed. The skins tits and surreptitiously observed, inside and outside the home.
(22-II-2001) Last night we went on a pre-carnival bloco by Barra and Ondina. I did not expect such a public holiday. Dagmar had insisted that we were, and we got on the bus again at night. In the vicinity of a bar was accumulating hill people. There was anticipation for the arrival of "musicians" who were delayed, and endure the wait drinking beer. We got some shirts with the name of the establishment: Dibarabar . Almost all were already set and we put them too. Then came the musicians. It was a band of foot, as verbena (bass included). They began to rehearse sambas, even with ups and downs and disagreements, such as warming up. A melody was familiar, but could not identify it. Until suddenly fell, was "Amor I Love You" by Marisa Monte. It turns out that that song was a sophisticated, subtle samba! I was listening to it, excited. Then the musicians (playing and seriously ) began the march, walk up bar. And the small crowd at the bar chased after them, dancing and drinking beer. How did we do? Two, three hours? It was hilarious. Spontaneous happiness, parallel to the dark sea, all moving with a shimmy endearing, each in his ball: the opposite of a parade military.
I realized what I was familiar with the situation in this house: the atmosphere is similar to holiday in the village, when we gathered the family of John and my tito, and always with cousins \u200b\u200band acquaintances in the classroom. It also bears some resemblance to the Big Brother house . We are nine, and I the only one with dick (to speak Campeche). Apart from Nadia and me, we are now under "one roof" (expressive speech): Dagmar, the owner of the apartment and our neighbors in Torremolinos, younger sister Dodo, who lives here; other two Brazilians who also come from Spain and we knew there, the sisters Rúbia and Ribi, a friend of them has come from Belo Horizonte, Juju, and two girls inside of Bahia that are half living with Dodo: Camila, thin young mild-mannered and quiet, and Erika, a fat blunt that's lover's cousin Dagmar, who has installed barragana plan here. With it has occurred to me that jarring and irrational: I have hated. I can not see or hear, their mere presence annoys me. Without doubt, this feeling is the source of many of the atrocities committed by humans. And now I have it: the unstoppable idea that would be better off without her here . This hatred, Nadia is also, means that it will begin to form cliques and conspiracies Big Brother plan. But the situation serves as an excuse for me to wear helmets at breakfast and avoid the morning crying. Today I've been listening to the cassette with songs Noites do Norte and Livro.
Stiepan This inhospitable area, without a coffee without a seat, completely undeveloped, unpaved streets, modern buildings coupled thoughtlessly, hindering each other, while paseables streets. The only option is to cross on foot, between bushes, a large earthen area bordering the road, parallel to an extension of shacks on the other side, and go to the beach. But the worst is the complicated access from here to living quarters of the city, including Old and Barra. Buses that are thrown around for one hour feis sites to the center. What I've seen so far from Salvador are those surly and soulless landscapes from the window, that remind me of some areas destroyed in Malaga, Carlinda, Puerto de la Torre or the Carretera de Cádiz. One should think well before travel, and always arrives at its destination crushed.
no one has been taken as a guide to the young Camilla and we went three to the old. What I want is to walk alone, but in the end. These end trip to Brazil to germinate just because I can not go to my air, responsiveness and occasional melancholy contemplative euphoria. Although, for that matter, has not been bad in the morning. Passing through the Avenida de Chile, I posted on the site where, according to the book Fretwork, fifty years ago met Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil: right in front of the pharmacy. We have taken another look from the balcony with the beautiful landscape that highlights the Forte de São Marcelo. Then walk in the Pelourinho, beer in the Terreiro de Jesus, a motley lunch eatery (super) and down the incline Gonçalves, that looks like a fairground attraction. I can not establish equivalence to Málaga: the streets of the Cidade Baixa remind me of the Alameda de Colón. In the Mercado Modelo, after walking among the stalls of junk, we descended to the basement where they stored the slaves when landed. A minute of silence there, listening to the breath of suffering. Finally, climb up the Elevador Lacerda and return to Stiepan after another tedious hour by bus.
of the things we have been telling Camilla, I am left with what has been said of Marisa Monte, that from time to time, especially during Carnival, usually drugged deal here, with dark circles, with Carlinhos Brown as a zombie. I do not know if this is true, but the mere image of a goddess (Of a tropical venus) as Marisa Monte rooting in vice has made me horny.
[Next: trip to Brazil (3) ]
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