MondayMorningMutiny.com

The dust from the carnival settled surprisingly swiftly and the next day was business as usual in Pelourinho, the historic centre of Salvador.
“Pelourinho” means whipping post and it was here that slaves arrived from Africa and were traded and treated in a manner that would be considered unethical for cattle today.

Although somewhat rundown, with verbal harassment common, I liked the place and it’s unusual charm. Still a little under the weather, I spent a few days here, avoiding the more modern, built up coastal stretch and bided my time chatting to the locals and being shown the sites.

It`s definitely a generalisation, but it seemed like every male under the age of 30 here was either an expert drummer, skilled capoeira fighter or a drug addict.
Very different to everywhere else in Brazil, Salvador possesses a unique and vibrant zest for life, love, music and history, almost bubbling over with energy, despite the obvious hardships.
The African influence is very apparent and flows through everything – from the food to the rhythms in the music, the religious ceremonies of candomble and of course, the people themselves..

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Continuing north up Brazil to the north-eastern state of Bahia, I arrive at Salvador in the middle of the night. I decide it safer to take a cab.

The crazy web of unnamed cobbled streets was deserted and still.
Equally crazed was my driver, who made the journey anything but still.
It was unusual that everywhere was so quiet driving into the city – there is usually something going on somewhere in the bigger towns and cities in Brazil; at any time of day or night.

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