I decided to visit the old city. But first to buy a night bus ticket for my next destination, Palmeiras. A Korean backpacker who was going to Rio de Janeiro and I headed for the a tour agency in Shopping Barra which I was told by the hostel owner, and read in LP, sold bus tickets, saving a trip to the rodoviaria which is, as usual, some ways out of the city.
The tour agency tells us that they only sell plane tickets. Other people we asked around the shopping centre said that was the only agency in the centre. What's going on? Is the hostel owner mistaken? We return to the hostel puzzled.
It turns out that the agency serves my bus company, and no other companies. I could have bought a ticket, but not my new companion. So he heads out to the rodoviaria by bus to secure his 20 hour (shudder) ticket to Rio, and I back to the agency for my tickets.
While waiting at the bus stop I spot the group of 6 Germans from the hostel's intake of the day. I follow them into the microbus and introduce myself. They don't mind my tagging along. I feel less exposed travelling in a pack.
I don't have any pictures of the old city. Travel guides warn against taking any cameras to the Pelorinho; such is the level of paranoia. I discover later that tourists were taking pictures with their cameras or mobile phones. I could probably have slipped my snappy camera into my pocket for this visit. At least for the daytime, and for the main streets the warning is pessimistic. But it's no a great loss, the Pelorinho is very much photographed. If you do a search on that word, you will get dozens of image hits. In the pictures, the buildings are beautiful pastel colours, there are few if any people in the street, and the cobblestones look charming. In reality, the walls are somewhat dirty, the street is full of wandering tourists and hustlers, and the street surface is uneven and grubby. At night, the music bars come to life, but visitors are well advised to take a taxi home.
I help the Germans buy a couple of acarajés. Acarajé is a Northeastern street snack. A ball of manioc paste is deep-fried in palm oil, giving it its characteristic crispy orange skin. It is sliced and sauces and optionally pimenta (chilli paste, very hot!) spread on the inside. Diced salad and fried shrimp are then placed in the middle and you are handed the messy combination on a couple of squares of grease paper. Someone told me it has 2000 calories and with the palm oil I can believe that. The first one I ever ate was in Rio, on my previous trip, sold by a Baiana (Bahian woman) vendor.
The tour agency tells us that they only sell plane tickets. Other people we asked around the shopping centre said that was the only agency in the centre. What's going on? Is the hostel owner mistaken? We return to the hostel puzzled.
It turns out that the agency serves my bus company, and no other companies. I could have bought a ticket, but not my new companion. So he heads out to the rodoviaria by bus to secure his 20 hour (shudder) ticket to Rio, and I back to the agency for my tickets.
While waiting at the bus stop I spot the group of 6 Germans from the hostel's intake of the day. I follow them into the microbus and introduce myself. They don't mind my tagging along. I feel less exposed travelling in a pack.
I don't have any pictures of the old city. Travel guides warn against taking any cameras to the Pelorinho; such is the level of paranoia. I discover later that tourists were taking pictures with their cameras or mobile phones. I could probably have slipped my snappy camera into my pocket for this visit. At least for the daytime, and for the main streets the warning is pessimistic. But it's no a great loss, the Pelorinho is very much photographed. If you do a search on that word, you will get dozens of image hits. In the pictures, the buildings are beautiful pastel colours, there are few if any people in the street, and the cobblestones look charming. In reality, the walls are somewhat dirty, the street is full of wandering tourists and hustlers, and the street surface is uneven and grubby. At night, the music bars come to life, but visitors are well advised to take a taxi home.
After the Pelorinho we took the Lacerda elevator down to Mercado Modelo which houses many artisan and tourist memoribilia vendors. The Lacerda elevator is an amazing piece of engineering and is designed to move large numbers people quickly about 70 m between the lower city and the upper city. The fare is 5 cents.
Incidentally Baianas are very visible in the Pelorinho, posing for pictures with tourists for a fee. If you imagine a "traditionally built African lady" a la Alexander McCall-Smith, in a volumous white dress and wearing colourful decorations, you have the right idea.
In the middle of night I heard the skies open up and rain cats and dogs. Not promising for the boat trip to the islands I had signed up for.
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