Salvador, Brazil

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.”
-Maya Angelou

In the days leading up to Salvador, Brazil, the ship was full of nervous tension and anxiety. We were sailing into a country known for its urban violence and petty crime, and on top of it all, we were arriving at the height of its criminal activity—Carnaval. People jokingly said things like “I’m not getting off the ship.” In our pre-port meetings it seemed we weren’t learning how to avoid problems, but rather how to handle its inevitability. Girls getting earrings ripped out of their ears, or being dragged down the street by a motorcyclist clinging to a backpack were just some of the images we were given. “Don’t be scared, be prepared”; WWAP (walk with a purpose); and, “Like a midget at a urinal, stay on your toes” included the pieces of advice we were given before disembarkation.

Now several nautical miles away, I still have mixed feelings about Brazil. I met interesting people, saw amazing things, ate delicious food, and witnessed the Afro-Brazilian culture. However, blanketing their strengths are their weaknesses. Cab drivers took advantage of our money, people got mugged, harassed, and worse. For every pleasant experience in Brazil, I had 3 unpleasant ones. I was sick of constantly making sure I had not been pick-pocketed, sick of people selling me things, being charged double or triple, and sick of not being able to walk places at night. I was helped and I was misled. I was respected and disrespected. Homicide committed by Brazilian police is the third-leading cause of death among children and adolescents. I didn’t know who to trust, who to talk to, who to smile to, and who to avoid. Puerto Rico was a breeze, and now, there were challenges. But, I did some amazing and awesome things in Brazil, and just because these “challenges” made everything either scarier or more difficult, I survived it and I did have a tremendously great time.

On the first day immediately after the ship was cleared by Immigration Officials, I headed out with a group of 5 into Salvador. I was dressed for Carnaval: mesh shorts (no pockets), a white under-shirt, and $15 currency in each shoe. No camera. No wallet. No reason for anyone to touch me. The only thing that set me apart was my skin color, as 70% of Salvador is black (and the other 30% don’t actually seem to exist?). We walked right into the heart of Salvador for Carnaval.

Carnaval put us right into the middle of 2 million people. Salvador is in the Guinness Book of World Records for the “Biggest Party in the Universe”—I was right in the middle of it. We got pushed around the streets, trying to find the best place to watch Brazil’s most famous pop-artists perform. They sang from the top of huge, lit-up trucks as they slowly plowed through the crowds. We pretended to mouth the Portuguese lyrics just to fit in. Whatever the people around us were doing—we did. We were timid at first, but after a while we grew less and less afraid of our surroundings. With the Brazilian military on every street corner and surrounded by handful of sympathetic locals, we were going to be just fine.

We grabbed a few drinks and danced alongside Brazil’s highest-paid and most famous singer, Iveche. We danced with those around us, picked up some new moves, and high-fived people along our way. I stopped along the sidewalk and held a small child above my head so that he could see above the crowd. I didn’t speak their language and Spanish could only convey so much to them. It didn’t matter. Partying was universal. In the country with the largest gap between the rich and the poor in the entire world, it didn’t matter if you lived in a mansion or a shanty town because everyone was there for the same reason; “Carnaval” is an all-inclusive and embracing concept.

After a dinner break on the ship, we went out again from 8pm to 4am for more of Carnaval. It was crazier, more intense, and more fun. We made friends. We had people that didn’t even speak English buying us beer and candy, and we played “charades” in the middle of the street as a way to communicate with them. We danced around, found our professors in the crowd, and soaked every moment in. Our white-ness and obvious American-ness seemed to attract people for the right reasons. We were safe, seemingly appreciated, and had the absolute time of our lives.

After waking up at a casual 1pm the next day, a group of us went to the market then lounged by the pool on the 7th deck. That night, we went to a churrascaria rodizio for dinner. Here, everyone gets a card with both a green and a red side. If your card is showing green: you want more meat. More meat means exactly that—you’ll be bombarded by waiters armed with knives ready to cut anything right onto your plate. I had, among other things, ostrich, chicken hearts, and “feet” (to this day we still don’t know who’s feet they are). We were there for several hours, eating everything that was cut onto our plate, and hilariously fumbling in our Sportugish (using Spanish and English as a means to talk in Portuguese).

The next day I spent the morning in Pellourinho, the tourist district, to take some pictures and give the locals an opportunity to bombard me with their useless items. The streets are cobblestone, winding through small neighborhoods and offer an amazing backdrop of blue skies, a gleaming ocean, and interesting architecture. That night, a huge bunch of us went to a soccer game. It was everything you’d imagine a soccer game in Brazil (not to mention South America, as a whole) to be. It was crazy, fun and extremely cultural.

Day 4 I went on an SAS trip to a Brazilian favela (shantytown). The trip may end up being one of the more memorable experiences of this voyage. We walked through the poor community, shacks piled upon each other and kids roaming the streets, many of them without shoes. We visited an elementary school and spoke to one of the teachers there. She makes very little money, and receives very little funding for the school from the government. Although school wasn’t in session because of Carnaval, all the kids from the village came to greet us outside their school. We gave them gifts, and spent the rest of our time playing and interacting with them. “Touring” poor communities is a confusing concept, and had we not been welcomed by these children, I would have thought twice about visiting. I will say, though, that the people of this community were not embarrassed or ashamed of their poverty. They were proud and confident. They stood next to their shacks with smiles on their faces; they are a strong people, with a willingness to live and work hard.

In the afternoon, Bob, Sarah and I took a ferry to Itaparica Island for the rest of the day. We lounged on the beach, swam in the crystal-blue waters, and had a drink with a local family. The island has an amazing view of the Salvador skyline and it has a great beach-town feel, though mostly for the upper-middle class. For our last night in Brazil, a small group of us went to Rio Vermelho, the rich district of the city. We ate some queijo coalho (fried cheese, amazing), beiju doce com coco y chocolache (coconut, chocolate and sweet milk, baked), caiparinhas (their national drink), listened to live music, and made friends with our Sportugish.

To their credit, SAS did a great job preparing us for Salvador—we were extremely well-cultured and educated. I am grateful for the experiences I had, good and bad. On this 9-day journey to Africa, I find myself more and more remembering my positive experiences in Brazil rather than the negative ones. In fact, I play my new Carnaval CD incessantly!

[ Sorry, no pictures to share…at least not until I find Internet in Cape Town. I know I haven’t posted anything about ship life, classes, etc. I will do my best to give you a quick overview of life on the ocean soon. Until then, 200 pages to read and an exam await me…]