Salvador
We stayed another night in The Brazil Hostel. The next day I sent my CV to a local school in the hope of finding work teaching English. Arthur and I just chilled that day and made a phat Spaghetti Bolognese for us and Yearime. Is this the last meal we will ever share as a three? Probably yes. It was delicious and we all cleared our plates with satisfaction.
Then next morning Arthur and I decided it was time to move on. I hand-wrote a letter to Yearime using my newly engraved 'Cross' pen - a present from a dear friend back home to mark my new journey and career as a teacher - it was short and heartfelt. I toyed with the idea of not actually giving it to her but eventually did. The goodbye was brief and unaffectionate.
Instead of getting the cheaper 32 hour coach to Salvador, we went to the travel agent and booked a flight which would take us only 2 hours. At the airport in Salvador, we went to wait for a bus; the plan was to go to Carmo - a small town in Salvador renowned for its laid-back afro infuenced culture. We waited over an hour and still there was no bus. A women came round and offered us to share a cab with her but before Arthur and I had time to look at each other, she informed it was full! We had spotted two western looking girls also waiting and Arthur suggested we ask them the same question. I got up and went over to introduce us. They were American and although from Washington DC seemed friendly enough. We all got in a cab and went to find a Pousada. We got the name of a recommended one out of the Lonely Planet and it turned out to be farily close; the cabby dropped us off at the bottom of a seedy looking road which wasn't acceptable so I insisted he took us to the door. It turned out to be a 2 second drive up the hill he was unimpressed and we were cracking up!
We stayed another night in The Brazil Hostel. The next day I sent my CV to a local school in the hope of finding work teaching English. Arthur and I just chilled that day and made a phat Spaghetti Bolognese for us and Yearime. Is this the last meal we will ever share as a three? Probably yes. It was delicious and we all cleared our plates with satisfaction.
Then next morning Arthur and I decided it was time to move on. I hand-wrote a letter to Yearime using my newly engraved 'Cross' pen - a present from a dear friend back home to mark my new journey and career as a teacher - it was short and heartfelt. I toyed with the idea of not actually giving it to her but eventually did. The goodbye was brief and unaffectionate.
Instead of getting the cheaper 32 hour coach to Salvador, we went to the travel agent and booked a flight which would take us only 2 hours. At the airport in Salvador, we went to wait for a bus; the plan was to go to Carmo - a small town in Salvador renowned for its laid-back afro infuenced culture. We waited over an hour and still there was no bus. A women came round and offered us to share a cab with her but before Arthur and I had time to look at each other, she informed it was full! We had spotted two western looking girls also waiting and Arthur suggested we ask them the same question. I got up and went over to introduce us. They were American and although from Washington DC seemed friendly enough. We all got in a cab and went to find a Pousada. We got the name of a recommended one out of the Lonely Planet and it turned out to be farily close; the cabby dropped us off at the bottom of a seedy looking road which wasn't acceptable so I insisted he took us to the door. It turned out to be a 2 second drive up the hill he was unimpressed and we were cracking up!
That night we went out with the Americans: Lily and Megan who turned out to be sisters. They surprised us again with their liberal and educated views of the world. They were well traveled. Megan, the eldest told us of her journey to Palestine with her ex, only last year during high-conflict times. I found this very admirable and incredible. It seems decent Yanks do exist after all.
We chose pretty much the first bar we came across which turned out to be a stupid mistake. The pestering was unbelievable, I kid you not, we were approached every 2 or 3 minutes. Children scruffy and emaciated continued to beg us for offerings all night. They would come round with ribbons and attempt to tie them to your wrist as a gift which they thought gave them the right to hound you to buy their merchandise of handcrafted earrings or beads. It was upsetting to experience. Once again we were surrounded by poverty. We befriended some locals who were only interested in our money and went to another bar, where we drank some more and chatted. The girls scored some gear and we went back to the Pousada for a private party. This went on for a few hours and we discussed politics before eventually going to bed. During the night, the Megan began to whisper to me; although can't remember what was said. Before I new it we were kissing! I need to curb my philandering I think.
The morning came. The place was and is a beautiful very old colonial town - originally the capital of imperial Brazil. The architecture is stunning although, like most colonial structures in Brazil, has been left to become dilapidated and unpainted. Some of the residential building have been re-vamped with pastel colours created a very mellow feel.
I checked out a local school and the Portuguese teacher informed me that he would need English teachers in about two weeks. He was starting a community school for the underprivileged; he said that this would pay up to 12 Reals per hour; I suspect no working visa would be needed for this.
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