Why I Love Salvador Da Bahia, Brazil – Part 2

LUV the people

All the random folk I have just bumped into… From born Brazilians to those living there from elsewhere, to those just passing through. I LUV all the wonderful people I have met:

THE BRAZILIANS

Marrianna, who has a zest for life and sense of adventure that is rare to find (except she wouldn’t follow me to Piraja) that you rarely see. Her perfect English confused my friend and I. He was convinced she was American,

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“She is from California. I’m telling you! I know the accent!”

Of course he was wrong.

Augosto, who I recognised in a bar from Myspace and soon became fast friends with.

Eddy, his best friend who cracked us up constantly by doing a West Coast Thug Life impression.

This picture is of Me, Augosto and Eddy

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The girls who work at the Dubliners Irish Pub in Barra who would welcome our entrance by playing 50 cent, on rotation,

“go go go go shawty…”

This quickly got swapped with a Bob Marley tribute concert audio.

At the bar we talked to the sisters Nilsa and Nildes the most and on the last trip we went to Nilsa’s engagement party. This is a picture was taken at the party, and features some of the sisters, Nilsa’s husband and their mother

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The lovely Marco who rents boats on the beach and always makes sure that you get in the water and don’t just lie in the sun and burn and dehydrate

The singing and dancing guy on the beach that my friend Eva was so fascinated by.(I don’t know his name) So much so that she would insist we find out where he was posted before getting our chairs

Jacyran. Alain. Bobby. So many aliases but I think his state name is Jacyran, as it said so on his ID. He is always smiling and welcoming and willing to try and teach samba. He and my friend hit it off and then had a huge argument. She nicknamed him Saber tooth tiger because of his chipped tooth. Natasha the following year then bastardised this for her own use into snaggy tooth.

Carlos. Beto (or whatever he calls himself), Mr Moody. Can’t stand him any more but he deserves a mention for helping my friend and I (along with multiple alias guy) to find a place to buy toilet roll on our first night after discovering there was none at the apartment. (This one is for Iya!) hahaha!

Me Carlos and Jacyran before Carlos got on my freakin nerves:

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Wellington

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Who took me to a favela in Tancredo Neves for my first time ever… Going when it was raining and in the middle of the night probably wasn’t the best idea ever, but it worked out fine.

Diego who we nicknamed “City of God” (Wow what an impressive title LOL) simply because he had a scar under his eye. He was the entertainment a lot of the time. He is supposedly dangerous, but he never did anything bad to me… except call me a motherfucker.

Sinval, the guy we would get our beach chairs from everyday. He nicknamed me Alicia Keys (I know I look nothing like her right? I think its because I had plaits in the first day he saw me.) and I in turn begged that he rename me Beyonce. A few weeks after the last trip Marianna told me he had been murdered by his lover. RIP Sinval.

Here is a pic of him and Natasha on the beach:

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Paulo

Fun times, from jumping/dancing to Tupac/ MC Leozinho on the broken bed to drinking cheap bottles of Sao George fortified wine/ Sagatiba to his impromptu efforts to grab the mic and any/every bar we went to. He just wannna busssssssssssssta rhyme right?

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The vendors on the beach that come up to you with food/ drinks/temporary tattoos/jewellery/sunglasses/suncream/ cloths/hats. I LUV that in Brazil vendors aren’t barred from the beach like in other places. If you want something the sun is beating down on you and you are feeling lazy, it is soooo nice to have someone just bring stuff over for your perusal. I’ve never had anybody not take a firm no for an answer if I didn’t want something, but then again, most of the time I do want something!

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The locked man on the beach wearing a back, red gold and green tam hat, who despite only knowing a few words on English sang loudly the whole of Bob Marley’s “One Love” ad libs included when I told him that I was Jamaican.

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The artist in pelourinho that scarily reminded me of my dad.

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Julema and Sheila, The SSA Salvador airport employees who took my concerns about my lost luggage seriously (unlike the Spaniards) and let me harass them every day without complaint, to the point of inviting me to come and use their phone at the airport to try and contact Spain.

To Be Continued in Part 3

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