So….Friday is our day to pack up, head to the airport and fly to Salvador. Oh joy! Don’t have to remove liquids or shoes to go through airport security! It seems like such a luxury. Land in Salvador right on time and met by driver from hotel. After an hour in her car, we realize she is lost and is making large circles. She explains why she has missed her turns, but we don’t really give a rat’s ass. It’s after three and we haven’t had lunch and yours truly is holding on to the car door and her stomach, so as not to lose it while we are bumping over the cobblestone streets in the heat of the day and stop-and-go traffic. Ayeeee! I instruct her to stop and ask directions, which she does twice before we actually make it. Both my and Valerie’s bladder were relieved (pun intended).
Check into our little hotel:
which has an art gallery in the small lobby. Our room is up two narrow wooden flights of stairs (watch your head!) and for some reason I feel like Heidi going up to sleep in grandfather’s attic. No matter, room is more than twice the size of the last one, so we are happy about that. Out the green shuttered windows is a grand set of steps leading up to an old church…how quaint! However, we are pretty damn cranky after that ride and can’t wait to get some lunch and then get the he’ll out of this place…decamp to the beach and some quaint inn that is quiet? You betcha!
Meander down to the square looking for the recommended restaurant but give up and sit outside in front of a dude who place the saxophone and fancies himself to be Satchmo. Sounds pretty good, but way too close. Order another from the list of Brazilian food “must-haves” and start to relax. Out comes our moqueca – fish stew cooked in a clay pot that reminds me of the soup we ate on New Year’s eve, kids. Was AWESOME and served in a soupy broth and with a side of beans, a peanut-y sauce reminiscent of satay, and a small bowl of hot stff for seasoning. The spices were so interesting and varied and you could hear nothing but shoveling and “try this” from our table for quite some time.
Moods have definitely improved. We wander up and down the seriously bumpy kinda cobblestone street – definitely difficult in flip-flops – and check out craft store, most of which are pretty touristy. Unfortunately, there is a cruise ship in port and of course we don’t want to mingle with tourists. I’m way tired out from late night clubbing the night before and we head back to rest. End up spending most of the time researching local beaches and little inns we could stay in elsewhere, but can’t seem to find the right combination. Either a serious high rise and really nice, or a little house/hostel in a neighborhood away from the beach; cheap and basic. Decide to decide in the morning.
Valerie roused me to head up the street to a nice coffee and dessert spot that’s been recommended. On our way home we hear some rousing and energetic drumming. Oh no! It’s on the church steps right across the (narrow) street from our hotel and facing our windows. Up in our room, the noise is incredibly loud. We close the wooden shutters, whine and complain and then plug in our earphones to our pods and put earplugs around those to try and drown out the loud drumming. Oh, yea, and a sleep aid to boot. We do go to sleep, but swear we are moving out first thing in the morning. Our first bad day. Waaaa.