Brazil: Salvador

09.09.2013

• This entry will be easy. Today I took a 24 hour bus ride. Yup. While I have been operating on a 24 hour clock for a while now (and have my electronics set as such back home), I somehow still say 08:00 - 08:00 as 8am to 8pm. Of course, 8pm would be 20:00 so the ticket was actually telling me I would leave at 8am and arrive in Salvador at 8am (8:30 by the time we got there, but whose counting at this point?). I still would have taken the bus had I read the ticket correctly but I might have been less confused in the middle of the night when we still had not arrived. Here are some highlights from the day, followed by some photos: another Christ statue above another city, lots of open farm land, controlled burns along the roads, stop at a beautiful little town by the river, stop for dinner watching soap operas, change buses in the middle of the night interrupting would-be sleep, nobody next to me on the bus so I curled up into a tiny ball and rolled around all night. 

10.09.2013

• I have finally arrived in Salvador. Off the bus with a long stretch.... before looking for the correct bus to my hostel. After 30 minutes of that I was done. At this point I didn't care how much a cab would cost but I was getting in one. Oh, the joy of having the resources to buy my way out of discomfort. My cab driver was pleasant and humored me when I asked that he turn up the music, a request which catches most driver off guard expecting a passenger to suggest a lower volume or different station. He was also kind enough to name the artists I liked when he knew their names and I discovered two new groups that I love: Djavan and Skank, whose song Sutilmente (Subtly) I have fallen in love with (lyrics): 

• Finally, we arrived in the Pelourinho the renovated "historic" (and touristic) neighborhood on the hill and to my new home, Galeria 13. The owner, Pablo, was busy with check-outs and offered me breakfast until my room was ready. I could all but trip over myself and stutter an exhausted Thank you before dropping my bags in favour of a plate. I took my selection of fresh fruits from the full spread of options along with fresh guava juice and a side of freshly cooked eggs out to the patio and began to realize I was in hostel heaven. The garden patio sat below the small pool, just off the main reception area and adjacent to the Moroccan chill-out space. I ate one of the finest hostel breakfasts to date and wondered if I read the rate correctly because this surely could not all come for the R$32 I was expecting to pay. I talked with a group of travelers on the patio, sent some emails (one with extra hugs to Kevin), and the Paulo came to show me to my room. Still impressed. Clean rooms with comfortable beds and attractive spaces with windows overlooking the tiled roofs of the old colonial buildings. I was glad to set up camp here. 
• I showered, shaved, and wrote for a while longer before it was time for another tour. Paulo had created a little tourist guide with things to do, places to eat, etc. and also wrote a list of daily events on a whiteboard near the entry. He made a point when I arrived to suggest an easy walking tour of the neighborhood which was only R$10 (about USD$4.50) as a way to get acquainted and learn a bit about the history of area. Perfect. I waited with fellow tourists: four Germans, someone from New Zealand, a person from France, and a couple from Belgium. Our guide, Luis, arrived a bit late from traffic but with a flare of exasperation that instantly garnered both my sympathies and my affection. Luis would become something of a pal over the next few days, always endearing with his gentle but playful nature, as charming and quirky as the city he showed Galeria 13 guests. Today he would show us an array of sites in our immediate vicinity: Sao Francisco Church; the Terreiro de Jesus; the old Catholic order turned school of medicine turned current Afro-Brasilian museum; the Praca de Se with a statue of Zumbi, hero of escaped slaves who formed communities around Bahia who led resistance against European slave traders; the first human lift now elevator that connects this hilltop neighborhood to the city and marinas below; the old palace building with incredible views across the bay; a former slave sales post which is now a foundation dedicated to a noted Brasilian author, Jorge Amado; the slave church which was built on land "gifted" by the Catholics for slaves to build their own church (as they were not allowed in the "white" churches) which took more than 100 years to complete working slowly when not performing forced labour at plantations.
• Luis shared a great deal of history about my temporary home but the history I found most interested was more modern. According to his reports, Salvador is the largest maintained colonial city in the world and our neighborhood underwent "refurbishing" in 1980's and 90's. At that time, many of the wealthy former residents had migration to English style homes in the suburbs of Salvador in favor of open spaces and places to park their cars over the old charm and narrow streets of the colonial city. In their place, people living in conditions of poverty took over the area, squatting in homes they did not have the resources to maintain leaving much of the older sections of town in disrepair. When the idea to "renew" this section of the city materialized, the people who had taken up residence and build their communities here were forced to leave being "relocated" to new housing developments and provided with enterprising projects to help them generate new income in their new accommodations. The rich abandon, the rich take back at will, the rich giveth away consolation prizes. Maybe I already said this in my blog (and will probably say again but how many people are really going to notice a repeat reference?) that I love a clean, beautiful urban center as much if not more than most. But, questions of justice enter the picture when we consider who is affected by our grand schemes for "improvement" and who we exclude when we "bring life back" to an area. Often, our ideas of "development" might as well be called gentrification, monification, comodification, and industrialization that to little to "develop" something new but rather entrench something old.
• Along our route we stopped for food from street vendors. I got a bolinho de esudante form Acaraje de Mary, which is like a tapioca doughnut rolled in cinnamon and sugar; crispy on the outside and ooey gooey on the inside and totally gluten free! After getting caught in the rain we made our way back to the hostel where we saw the youth drum corp from Olodum Music School performing in the street who can often be found practicing outside. Today, however, was a special performance for Nobel Peace Prize winner, Leymah Gbowee, who was visiting from Liberia. She was recognized for her work for women's rights, her website stating, "As war ravaged Liberia, Leymah Gbowee realized it is women who bear the greatest burden in prolonged conflicts. She began organizing Christian and Muslim women to demonstrate together, founding Liberian Mass Action for Peace and launching protests and a sex strike." There is something powerful and inspiring about just seeing someone who has sown the courage and fortitude to work for justice in an environment of intense oppression. 

• Back home it was caipirinha happy hour where I chatted with Kevin a few minutes and then talked with my new friends about forming community while traveling (the human drive to form connections) and the "business of global development projects." While I was enjoying conversation, I was also anxious to get to church. Tuesday night is apparently the night to be in Pelourinho for both religious services in the large churches and for the parties. So, church, then party is the plan for the night. I stopped to see the inside of Sao Francisco Church on my walk down to the former slave church a few blocks from the hostel where I arrived just as service was beginning. It was a lively evening that included gospel style music and percussion set the mood for an otherwise traditional Catholic ceremony with burning incense, Latin chants, and communion. I have to say, I was moved. It is one thing to be in a religious space but it is quite another to be in the space of spirit filled people who are sharing in a sacred experience. Somewhere between the singing and sitting and standing and sitting again I found myself a bit lost in my emotions - so far from home and the community I know and love in a space so unfamiliar with an activity so commonly and beautifully human. I feel so present in a way that I also feels distant. I feel connected to everything, everywhere and without a tangible presence anywhere. I know where my body is in this moment but feel my heart melting into the atmosphere and lost for a sense of my place in it all. My grip on reality seems to have slipped out the church doors and yet I am acutely aware of the intensity of life around me. It feels, expansive, joyful, and somehow fleeting. 
• Church let out and I walked a few steps down the cobbled street where I got my first taste of acaraje which is basically a large fritter made from black eyed peas and filled with pimenta (pepper), shrimp, vatapa (manioc flour, shrimp, coconut milk, peanut, and oil paste), and caruru (a condiment made with okra, onion, shrimp, oil, and toasted nuts). I skipped the cocada branca (sweet cakes made with coconut and condensed milk) and headed for a long set of stair between the buildings on the hillside where a band was setting up and grabbed a seat. It was a festive show with a mix of samba, funk, and MPB. I danced and swayed with the crowd and watched a few gay couples being very affectionate with one another. It was heartwarming and heartbreaking at once. 
• I made it home a bit early to catch up on my blog, a daunting task at this point. I was ahead of the late night crowd and enjoyed the quite of the hostel. As familiar as I am becoming with leaving, I am finding familiarity with the magic of arriving. 

11.09.2013

• I do love a breakfast that is served until noon. Today's offerings included canjica branca, a sweet white hominy dish. I took my time today and decided to write for a while, finally finishing my Rio blog post. I talked with Paulo, owner of the hostel, to make a plan for my days here in consultation with a list of recommendations from Amy Halter (Thanks Amy!).
• I started with a new favourite errand: laundry. Doing laundry while traveling has two satisfactions: clean clothing and not having to do your own laundry  Three hours until I could pick up my items and I spent it walking to the Forte de Santo Antônio Além do Carmo, a former slave prison which now houses multiple capoeira, a type of no-contact martial arts dance. Without classes being offered today I settled for lunch of an acai bowl with banana and granola. I walked through town and found an open church and stopped for respite. I popped into an antique store which hadn't been on my list of things to do in a new city but it will be now. The space was a cluttered collection of the things pulled from trunks and attics from people who live and died in this area, a menagerie of treasures including old photographs, religious items, magazines, records, furniture, tools, and trinkets which gave new dimension, color, fragrance, and texture to the personal histories of people. It made me think what someone would imagine of me if my storage unit was to remain in tact for decades and then be opened and sifted through. I maintain that our material possessions are not the representative sum of our being but the things we collect do tell a story. 
• With a little time left I wandered into the Museum of Afro-Brasil, housed in the building which once served as the home for a Catholic order and later the first medical school in Brasil. The museum had conveniently created an English and French language translation for the exhibits which began with an insightful history of the slave trade to Bahia with great context and within the longer history of the African slave trade, the impacts on individuals and societies, and the resiliency of people who were able to maintain culture and grow new traditions in new communities. It displayed items of life and art of the people who brought them from various regions of Africa where they intermingled and manifested the an Afro-Brasilian experience. It also displayed the works of Hector Julio Paride Bernabo, or Carybe, who crafted large wooden panels with mixed media to portray the Orixas (Gods) of the Candomble, a diasporic Afro-Brasilian religious tradition rooted in animism (spirit existing in the physical entities of the natural world) which developed from the beliefs of people who were brought to Brasil as slaves from Africa. Religious traditions say a lot about the system of meaning-development that a group of people share. It creates a set of organizing metaphors through which we construct our relationship to the rest of the world and the people around us. These systems of meaning become coalescent with many aspects of cultures and societies which are complicated by dynamic issues such as xenophobia and evangelism. With written descriptions and visual expressions of the Orixas I was afforded my first insights to the system of meaning-development that is prevalent in the Bahia region. Another room contained a special exhibit titled, Eshu: Other Faces, which contemplates the many ways in which the Orixa, Eshu, communicates his messages to people through art, music, language, and even technology. Eshu is a spirit of chaos and trickery from the Yorùbá tradition of Nigeria and has been associate with my two patron saints, Anthony of Padua and the Archangel Michael, and, I have decided, is also Flotsam who I noted in my Bocas del Toro, Panama post on August 6th. This, of course, confirms that I am destined to travel this year in quest of answering the World Riddle. 
• I picked up my laundry, stopped to watch a capoeir group and was forced to take a photo with them, and then went back home to find Kevin for a quick chat, grabbing an abara along the way which is the steamed version of the acaraje. For you gluten-free folks out there who are wondering how I am eating all these starchy goods let me just tell you that Brazil is gluten-free heaven! Polvildo azedo (sour manioc starch) can be purchased online HERE or at Amazon. Polvildo doce is used for the sweeter recipes and can be found on Amazon. Thank you, Brasil! While I caught up on writing I met Jonathan and Juanita, a lovely young couple from Florida who are traveling with a friend, Sean. The two decided to come with me to the symphony tonight and I was delighted to have such great company. 
• The symphony is, in fact, the Banda Sinfonica do Neojiba which played at the Teatro Vila Velha, a small black-box theater with office style chairs on wooden platform steps with a single row of seats around the metal banister on the second and third level. It was a far cry fro the Sala de Sao Paulo but refreshing to be in a more intimate setting with a lower cost and local musicians with their friends and family present. "Fine art" can carry a bit of pretense and remove itself from many people with high prices and its air of sophistication. But elitism is contrary to the soul of art and spaces that keep every form of art accessible are spaces that I want to share in. Tonight's concert started with a performance from the youth program, the Banda Sinfonica da Paz (symphony band of peace) which played When the Saints Go Marching In, Asa Branca, and Samba de Uma Nota (which is the video below). The main symphony took the stage after and played a number of upbeat pieces with a different level of energy than I am used to at the symphony. I also realized that this was the largest number of people of color I have ever seen playing classical music together, people who are under-represented in professional classical music groups in the United States. They played beautifully, with the last set comprised of a variety of Latin American and Spanish music arranged for a symphony including a Son Montuno (Cuba), Tango (Argentina), Guaracha (Columbia), and Paso Doble (Spain). I wasn't a fan of every piece performed tonight but, overall, it was a wonderful night of music that took me though a range of emotions with the audience which is what I hope for attending such an event. 
• My new mates and I trekked home and goodnight. I look forward to hanging out with them more before they leave this weekend. I stayed downstairs and blogged for a bit, chatting with Loreana, the goddess incarnate who runs the front desk some evenings who looks a bit like Selma Hayek to me which seems to flatter her. Quick chat with Kevin - I may or may not have teared up a bit. The fun thing about loosing my grip is that Kevin seems to be well supplied with Michael Glue. I'm glad he likes my particular brand of chaos. 

12.09.2013

• Another morning taking my time, enjoying breakfast with canjica branca, and Googleing new corn-based recipes including sweet corn pudding and cornmeal couscous. By the time I was ready for the day my time was too limited to go too far. Luckily, Paulo is full of great recommendations and I was off on the day's adventure.  
• First Salvador milestone of the day was that I got to use the elevator for the first time to descent from the hill down to the waterside. Not very eventful, perhaps, but a childlike joy none the less. I waited a short eon and then took a bus to Ribeira and got off at the Church of Our Lord of Bonfim. It is so named because a Portuguese ship captain, Teodósio Rodrigues de Faria, was caught in a bad storm and vowed to God to bring a statue of the Nosso Senhor do Bonfim (depicting Jesus at the time of his death) in exchange for a "good ending" (bonfim) to his voyage. By the grace of God, he did arrive safely at his port in Salvador and, some years later, a Catholic brotherhood built the church to house the statue he brought from Portugal. Today, colorful ribbons are sold to visitors so they might leave their prayers and wishes in this holy space which can be seen covering every inch of the iron gates outside as well as the railings and doors inside where I stopped for a short some respite amid the thousands of tiny ribbons and the energy of the stories people left with them. 
• After a spell, I walked up the hill to an area called the Piedra Furada, a hill overlooking the ocean where I found Recanto da Lua Cheia, a seafood restaurant with a wonderful view where I ate casquinha de siri, a stuffed crab with farofa (which gives me a new idea for crab cakes back home). After a relaxing lunch I walked down to the Forte Mont Serrat with more spectacular view of the bay and city beyond. In front of the fort a fashion photography was shooting for the new line from Mada Negrif whose Facebook page does not show the stunning new collection - sorry global fashionistas. I walked from the fort along the beach for a while where neighborhood folk were relaxing in the afternoon sun. I took a bus home, stopping at the marina, and walked home, stopping briefly at a store near my hostel where I found two interesting books that I can't actually read because they are published in Portuguese. The first is the Human Rights Dictionary published as a joint project between the state of Bahia and UNICEF. The second is, Arte de Transformacao by Mila Petrillo, which collects words and photos that share the power of the arts for personal and social transformation. I left the store with just enough time to make it to the edge of the Praca de Se for a perfect sunset which I enjoyed with a tapioca doughnut. Moments of peace and delicious joy. I made it home for a virgin caipirinha and to work for a while and rest. I also accompanied JonJuan (my new nickname for Jonathan and Juanita) for a quick search in a music store while Luiz (tour guide from day one) took me to find a bank I needed and chatted like an old friend. I adore that man. 
• Just before 7pm I was picked up by a local guide to attend a Candomble ceremony. This was an opportunity to learn about a sacred tradition through an in-person experience to give greater context to the things I have read or seen in art or artifact. But being present as an outsider for something so personal and meaningful to its participants requires a bit of effort and consideration to find the line between voyeurism/exoticism and respectful witness. First, an understanding and recognition of the sociopolitical history of the Candomble which was necessarily practiced in discrete spaces from the days of slavery through 20th century Brasil as were all traditions of the marginalized Afro-Brasilian community - a casual, white visitor today is a recent anomaly and I have to recognize my identities in the context of a complex history. Also, it is important for me to know what is appropriate for me in this space which is one reason that having a guide who is a member of the community is helpful to remind me of things like not taking photos or videos unless invited to do so and someone who's lead I could follow in the space. It was also important to know that the resources I was putting toward having a guide of the evening was contributing to the community itself and not just funding an outside party. Beyond this I will recognize that the things I have seen and learned about cannot, while they provide meaningful context for me and insights to help frame my experience of Brasil as well as my own personal spiritual philosophies, I must honor that I am far begin able to speak with any authority about the traditions or meaning of the Candomble. 
• All of that said, there were many things that I contemplated during and after my experience. For one, my guide and I discussed the focus on Catholic culture on the preservation of a family system and an organizational power structure and can create rigid boundaries of acceptability regarding those things which it believes supports or diminishes these values. Candomble, on the other hand, embraces the phenomenon of nature and of the human experience creating a space of inclusion even for the experience of diverse sexual and gender orientations. At the same time, figures representing Jesus were present at the Candomble ceremony. It was explained to me that Christian evangelists found it easier to incorporate their religion into the Candomble rather than focus on total conversion, casting the Christian Trinity (God, Son, and Holy Ghost) with the threefold manifestations of the supreme God of the Yoruba called Olorun who presents as  Olodumare, the Creator; Olorun, ruler of the heavens; and Olofi, who is the conduit between Orun (heaven) and Ayé (earth). Other aspects of the ceremony reminded me of other religious traditions with singing and percussion that rang of Gospel, energy-based ritual which I related to study and practice of New Age spiritualism, and the experience of trance which  reminded me of the Pentecostal iteration of Christianity. I had a professor or religion at the University of Washington who once said that most people study religions for one of three basic reasons: to under their history, meaning, and traditions; to compare them to one another finding similarities and differences; to figure out which one is "correct." I think I fall into camps one and two but, like most things with my trip, I can only expect to learn the most about myself in seeing more facets of the world which will hopefully allow me to relate to and respect more people.   
• I came home filled with thoughts and emotions which I processed a bit with Zulu and Spartan, a large brown and white boxer and a dark colored mastiff, the resident mascots of the hostel. Good company for some low-stimulus conversation before bed. 

13.09.2013

• I woke up late today While air conditioning sounds like a nice idea in warm climates one can still end up sleeping in an ice box. Thankfully, I have an agenda full of errands for the day which included getting my hair cut, buying a plane ticket from Belem to Florianopolis for two weeks from now, stopping at the post office, and gearing up at an electronics store where I replaced my so-loved Bose earbuds with an inexpensive pair which fulfill a function but do not create nearly the same pleasing sound for my traveling ears.   
• In the evening I was out to dinner at Bar Zulu, the restaurant owned by Paulo who also owns my hostel and which is named for our furry friend. Jonathan and Juanita showed up and joined me which was a more than pleasant surprise. Jonathan told me about his mentoring experience as a DJ and a DJ youth outreach program he tried to connect with in Rio. It was the first program of this kind that he had hear of which, of course, meant I needed to go home and research a bit and didn't find much besides a woman in Las Vegas running a DJ summer camp and a program in Tel-Aviv. We talked a lot about  mentoring and education, how we learn the most from teaching, about the ways in which all kids are "at risk," how kids benefit from mentors and seeing a path toward something they are interested in doing. While I had the privilege of many tangible resources and social supports, many children do not see opportunities for themselves in the spaces around them, do not see society investing in their potential or recognizing their capacities, who do not look like the successful people on television (maybe more like the villain or the idiot), who don't have many people in their immediate family or community who can offer personal experience to assist with academic or professional pursuits, who come from generations of oppression and trauma, who feel the expectations for their "failure" all around them, who are willing to chose illegal activity for income where other options don't seem to exist. What we might be tempted to attribute to aptitude or motivation is often wrapped up in a far more complex structure of social relationships which perpetuate the dynamics of power and oppression, of wealth and poverty. We all lose in this scenario. 
• I made a quick exit from dinner to attend Bale Folclorioc da Bahia, a performance of dance and music inspired by the popular culture and folklore traditions of Brazil that represent the European colonizers, the enslaved peoples from Africa, and the indigenous peoples. The Bahia including the Candomble, capoeira, Samba, and the Maculelê a mock-stick-fighting dance. It was a well produced interpretation of these cultural practices which I was glad to have had some exposure to before tonight to help provide context and a sense of realism to balance the artistic presentation. The nice thing about the internet age is that you can still share imagery from performances that you are not allowed to record. So, here are some PHOTOS and a YOUTUBE clip for your enjoyment. The photo below is me with the two people I sat next to for the show which the usher insisting on taking for us assuming we were friends.  
• Back home I got to chat with Kevin and had a Skype call with my mom, sister, and nephew; he´s getting so big. I introduced him to my hostel dogs which afforded me a few extra minutes of face time for his four year old attention span. Thanks, dogs!

14.09.2013

• Well, another morning of running errands. After realizing the bus tickets I was trying to buy would cost me R$500 and three days on the road, I decided to pop the R$700 (USD$300) and buy a plane ticket to my next destination. This also affords me two more days in Salvador which is good because I just wasn't finished here yet. Thanks to Bahia Ticket Travel and Sabrina, my personal travel angel. 
• Back home for breakfast where I met new arrival, Daniel, who is a professor of law at Northwestern in Chicago. Low and behold his area of practice and scholarship is negotiation and mediation! I completed a the training to become a mediator at the Whatcom Dispute Resolution Center in Bellingham, Washington in 2009 and 2010 where I volunteered briefly providing mediation services for the local small claims court and other community disputes. I also worked with an interdisciplinary team at the University of Washing to initiate planning for a Center for Dispute Resolution to bring together academics, students, and community members to create a space for learning, research, and practice for alternative dispute resolution and negotiation. Daniel and I promised to stay in touch and I will try to connect him with my friends back at UW who are still working to manifest the center. 
• Later I met up with Juanita and we walked down to meet Jonathan at a music store where he was arms deep in stacks of vinyl and covered in dust after another day of scouring the local stores for Brasilian tunes to love and spin back home. Post-record-purchase, we grabbed the elevator down to the water and got a cab for the short ride to the Museum of Modern Art of Bahia (MAM) which, sadly, is closed for renovations for the year. We took the opportunity to sit on the patio, gaze at the favela above a small beach, and breathe the fresh salt air. Jonathan told me about the origin of D'ing as which intended to introduce people to new music but which is now often, in his opinion, about replaying the songs that the audience is already familiar with. There is space for both, perhaps, but the later is a far more prolific form. The conversation has me wanting to learn more from my friend Brett (DJ Bret Law) when I get home.  
• Dinner at Solar Cafe, located in the bright and airy though catacomb-like basement of the MAM. I enjoyed a gluten-free, quinoa crepe with curried chicken, nuts, raisins, and Gouda cheese. While delicious, Juanita´s dish won for presentation, a melange of shrimp, strawberries, and a creamy dill sauce wrapped up in bundle of a fluffy crepe. We sat at a table in the archway with a view of the sea and the docks watching the sunset and thinking how truly blessed we were, even as the rain began to fall gently at our feet. 
• After a satisfying meal we returned to the patio for our evening's main event: jazz by the sea at the MAM! We found cover under one of the large tents where we slowly worked our way to front row and center. It was a splendid set up that exuded romance set to some truly terrific jazz music. We swayed and knocked our heals to the beats and I enjoyed a brigadeiro bon bon. The music was cut short this evening as one of the musicians experienced a seizure during the set. His band mates seemed concerned but not distressed indicating that he likely has a known seizure condition and that this was not his first seizure. He was well cared for and the audience was assured that he was doing well and in good hands. Here is some information from the CDC about what to do if you are with someone when they experience a seizure (LINK) and about the global burden of stigma related to seizure disorders (LINK). 
• Back home I grabbed my computer to write and listen to Vince Guaraldi. Kevin logged on and found me for a chat and shared with me a song by French artist, Madeline Peyroux, called La Javanaise. While the style and language might change, music is something that every culture has some relationship to and creates a medium to share and connect and relate with other people, which is what culture is really about.  

15.09.2013

• Today started with breakfast with new friends from Holland who were rather delightful. I am now into my two extra days in Salvador and I have the luxury of time and a very casual agenda and can take things easy. After all, it is Sunday. I wandered out of the hotel, back down the elevator, and got another bus out to Ribeira, this time going past the Bonfim church and getting out at the last stop. Here I caught a R$1 ferry boat across the water, walked over the train tracks, and found myself at Bocas de Galinha (Chicken's Mouth), a hopping hot-spot for Brasilian fare. I was seated, looked over the menu, noticed a note about not accepting credit cards, counted out my cash, and realized I did not have enough money to eat here. Oops. I tried to find a cash machine but, hey, Sunday. So, instead, I found a casual local joint and ordered lunch which included perhaps the best beans I have had in Brasil. I caught the end of National Treasure, dubbed in Portuguese, on TV sitting with the restaurant owner and then watched people passing by and enjoying their Sunday with music and friends. 
• I grabbed the boat back to the other side of Ribeira and walked the beaches which where Salvadorans had flocked en masse to take in some weekend sun. It was one long stretch of parties and restaurants and vendors for miles along the sand where people basked and children splashed in the incredible heat of the day. I love getting lost in a space like this, clearly the pale outsider, in the bustle of people congregating and communing in the common spaces of living. I walked from the beach up to the Bonfim church where I bought ribbons and tied three on the front gate, each with a single wish, and then braided them together as the hopes they contain are so inextricably connected. I am not sure if these prayers are like birthday candles where they won't be answered if I share them with you now so I will err on the side of caution and keep them a secret for now but I will blow a kiss to Seattle in lieu of providing details and promise to let you know one day when they come true. I was told later that the prayer or wish would be granted when the ribbon weathers and falls off on its own so there may be some time to wait yet. No worries. 
• I grabbed a bus home for caipirinha happy hour, chatted with new friends from Germany, and finally went "swimming" (wading) in the small pool at the hostel. A refreshing way to end a day under the sun. I cleaned up a bit and then made my way down to Espaco Itau de Cinema, which might be the most posh movie theater I have ever stepped into. I was here tonight to finally view the Brasilian film, Flores Rares (Reaching for the Moon is the English Title), about Pulitzer Prize winning poet Elizabeth Bishop and her time living in Rio de Janeiro along with a tragic love affair with Lota de Macedo Soares, architect and designer of Flamango Park, the largest leisure park in the city. It was a beautiful film that gave insight in the life and art of two women, their struggles and passion, amid the shifting cultural and political landscape of Rio and Brasil during a prosperous and tumultuous times. I don't know where you'll find it but do look for it. 
• Back home I said a goodnight and goodbye to JonJuan and was glad for the chance to thank the for the wonderful company the offered during my time in Salvador. I will be looking forward to reconnecting on the East Coast of the United States when I am home again - they are new friends worth finding again, for sure. 

16.09.2013

• Some last minute arrangements and planning for travel tomorrow (you know, like figuring out where to sleep - little things). After a missed opportunity yesterday I decided my heart was set on spending my last day in Salvador on the hunt for a local dish that wasn't even on the day's menu at Bocas de Galinha had I the money to eat there. So, after scouring the internet I decided to hop a cab to Rio Vermehlo, a hip and artsy neighborhood by the water, to Dona Mariquita, a bright gem of a restaurant. As the only customer this time on a Monday I was privy to excellent service. I was offered a menu in English but I already knew what I wanted: mocqueca, a stew with coconut milk and local favourite. Dona Mariquita was proclaimed (by people on the interwebs) to have an authentic and rather delicious version of the dish and I was anxious to eat it, especially after skipping breakfast to keep room for this lunch. I was informed by my sever that the mocqueca de peixe (with fish) was a serving for two and could not be made in a smaller size. Oh well, I thought, and reassured my helpful friend that I knew was indeed aware that I was insisting on the large portion to feed my slight self. It arrived in a large skillet with sides of caruru (the okra condiment also eaten with the acaraje) and a side of pirao, a sort of manioc polenta mush made with the sauce from the mocqueca (careful with the pronunciation of this one as you might startle your server order an excited portion of the male anatomy, as I have done - who's idea was it to make names for common foods so similar to things that embarrass tourists?). It was one of the best meals I have eaten... anywhere, perhaps. Full of flavor, delicate, and well balanced, I was glad I made the trek across town to find it. While my servers bagged up my leftovers (you didn't think I'd eat all of it, did you?) I filled what little stomach space I had left with a rich coconut ice cream served over a cup of guava compote, a dessert they lovingly called the Bob Leal after the Portuguese-Brazilian singer. Sorry, moqueca, you just won runner up. There are some food experiences that you carry with you forever and remissness about like a fond lover. I will have my afternoon at Dona Mariquita.  
• On the bus ride home along the water I was happy to see my new friends from Holland hop aboard along with a roommate of mine from Italy, a lovely gaggle who shared their stories of the day and with whom I tried to share some suggestions of activities for the evening. Back in our neighborhood we went looking for snack at a store and I stumbled across the Grupo Gay da Bahia (Gay Group of Bahia) whose website boasts that they are the longest operating gay *human* rights group in Brazil, working in Bahia since 1980. Juanita had told me about it the other day but I had forgotten and was glad to stop in before I left town. I was greeted by someone more than happy to provide me materials about their work for the advancement of rights, community education, and HIV/AIDS outreach and prevention. This is what social workers aboard should take note of: local organizations with local knowledge producing materials and actions tailored to the needs and interests of local stakeholders. There are lots of things that we can offer as foreigners to other communities which sometimes looks like program development and service delivery, but the work of supporting local efforts with capacity building, technical assistance, service support, and consultation are practical principles that will lead to more effective and sustainable and ethical work. 
• Back home for caipirinhas with Daniel and guy from Switzerland who lived in Vancouver, BC and White Rock, BC, Canada for a year during college, very close to my home in Bellingham, Washington. I was ready for a restful night with a long travel day ahead tomorrow and found myself a comfortable space in the chill-out room to listen to music and read. Tonight, I am finally getting around to my birthday present of the month: a selection of readings from James Baldwin's, Notes of a Native Son, which Kevin prepared for my travel reading "playlist" for the month of September. It was a great reminder of how "colored" my travel experience is as a person who is white, male, and from the United States. Some things he wrote about in his travels I could relate to, not only as a traveler, but as a gay man. However, even in this shared identity, Kevin's September love-note/playlist introduction discussed how race was still divided the experience of the LGBTQ community In the words of Baldwin: 

A black gay person who is a a sexual conundrum to society is already, long before the question of sexuality comes into it, menaced and marked because he's black or she's black.... I think white people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society. There's an element, it has always seemed to me, of bewilderment and complaint. Now that may sound very harsh, but the gay world as such is no more prepared to accept black people than anywhere else in society. 

• Kevin (who I am wagering that he is comfortable with me sharing some snip-its of personal letters reflected that, "It makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint that groups inherently favor their own, but what a tragedy that one of the results of this is a failure to generalize internal persecution to external or a failure to empathize." I am thankful for the ways in which people share their experiences for others (like me) to learn from and for a partner who, while I find him both sweet and sexy, I also love for his mind and heart and sensibilities and his literary mind. It's great to love my partner and wonderful that the man I love is one of the people I hold the most respect for.