OPPOSITE PAGE: MERCADO MODELO, SALVADOR DE BAHIA AT NIGHT CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: TRADITIONAL CLOTHING, OLD FORTRESS, PORTO DA BARRA, PORTO SEGURO BEACH, YEMANJA PARTY, AFROBRAZILIAN CULTURE
THE CALM INLET OF PORTO DA BARRA BEACH IS LIKE NO OTHER URBAN SHORELINE IN THE WORLD. SET WITHIN THE BAY, PORTO DA BARRA BECAME BAHIA’S FIRST EUROPEAN SETTLEMENT The historic district is more or less policed; a decade ago knife stabbings were as common as selling acarajé. The Liberdade shantytown clings impossibly to a large eroding hill nearby, where roughly sixty percent of the population lives. The remainder flocks to the coast, to the wealthy neighborhood of Barra, bristled with sleek, heavily-guarded skyscrapers that evoke Miami on a shoestring. The calm inlet of Porto da Barra beach is like no other urban shoreline in the world. Set within the bay, Porto da Barra became Bahia’s first European settlement, Vila Velha, or the Old Village. Nearby Farol da Barra, is a surfer’s haven, where a great lighthouse was built, named after the Pharos Island off the coast of Alexandria, Egypt. Its lighthouse was named one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
A dart thrown across the Baia de Todos os Santos (All Saint’s Bay) lands on the islands of Itaparica and Morro de Sao Paulo. The perfect crescents of white backed by shades of green are easily accessible by a short ferry ride. Across palm fringed sand, wealthier Brazilians built summer homes, sunbathing by day, driving four-wheelers by night. They paid reverent honor to their joyous city, “Capital da Algeria,” by toasting with cocktails of Caipirinha and singing into the early hours of the morning. In January, they extended their worship on the steps of Nosso Senhor do Bonfim, Salvador’s most sacrosanct church, where they washed the stone in dedication to Oxalá, one of the highest deities of the Candomblé religion. Many of them prayed and left their valuables inside the Room of Miracles, decorated with body parts, wooden and plastic dolls, gold jewelry, hanging from the ceiling like chandeliers.
In all its joy and sorrow, Salvador is a treasure chest dumping ground of stolen riches from Portugal and other parts of the world. A cradle for African rituals expressed by the perilous human condition marking the colonial era. Blood is smeared on cobblestone. Footprints are wiped after pilgrimage. Pockets of deserted white sand lapped with turquoise water are revisited. Beyond Salvador’s witness to all three, hides greater truths waiting to be unfolded J U LY 2 0 1 2
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