ENROUTE TV   ENROUTE FM   MEDIA KIT   AIR CANADA   LINKS   WRITERS'   GUIDELINES	RHYTHM NATION Sensual Salvador de Bahia is a little bit of Africa in Brazil - and the world's next hot spot. Text: STÉPHANE BAILLARGEON THE GIRL WAS A GIFT FROM THE SKIES - LIKE THE RAIN PELTING Salvador de Bahia, a city that is usually a sizzling inferno. It was March, and the tropical winter, with its sudden, daily storms, was upon us. I was in the historic centre of this one-time capital of Brazil, safe and dry on the porch of a colonial home. Staring through the downpour as if through the bars of an immense prison, I glimpsed a sign across the street that read "Café-Bookstore." I had only to dash a few metres to reach it, but I still ended up soaked to the gills. I ordered a blend of exotic fruit and coconut milk. There was only one other customer: a young woman, tanned, tall and slender. Her name was Bénédicte, and she was from Aix-en-Provence. She’d come here to do field work toward a master’s in anthropology. Her thesis was on capoeira, the combination of dance and martial art that originated in Africa but is now practised in Brazil and, increasingly, other parts of the world. "In Bahia, capoeira is part of the struggle for black cultural survival," Bénédicte explained to me. "You find this same quest for empowerment expressed in Bahia’s music, song, festivals, religion and cuisine." Aha! A budding specialist in Afro-Brazilian culture – just the person I needed to act as my guide, for this city of 2 million is truly imbued with the soul of Africa. Bahia – in full, São Salvador da Baía de Todos os Santos (Port of All Saints) – feels like an outgrowth of the Dark Continent, and I was here for an all-too-short seven days precisely to explore that historical influence. My family is no stranger to Africa: I spent my childhood years there – mostly in Cameroon and Senegal, where my father worked as a teacher in the 1960s and 1970s. Dad, a seasoned traveller, had told me before I left on this trip: "Just wait – you’ll see. Bahia is a lot like Africa with its songs and dances, its colours and sensuality and its relaxed pace of life." And he was right, as usual. As I soon learned, Africa and Bahia are linked by the tragedies of history. Tobacco and sugar-cane plantations ensured luxury and prosperity for Bahia, and this opulence is still very much apparent in the magnificent architecture of Cidade Alta, the historic town centre that is now a Unesco World Heritage Site. But those were ill-gotten gains. From the middle of the 16th century until the abolition of the slave trade in 1888, more than 3 1/2 million black Africans were torn from their homelands in what are now Sudan, Congo and Angola. More than a third of them, who had often been bartered for tobacco, did not survive the horrific conditions of the sea voyage. Those who did survive could expect to live perhaps seven years in the fields and mines of Bahia, toiling under their Portuguese oppressors’ whips. The vestiges of that era are evident throughout the city. The lower town’s Mercado Modelo, today a bustling tourist trap dispensing souvenirs, was originally a huge customs house where newly arrived slaves were "processed." In the dank bowels of the building is a commemorative marker that exudes sadness and tragedy. Like most other visitors, I spent a long moment of silent contemplation there. Brazil was the destination for fully a quarter of the Africans sold into slavery and taken to the Americas, and the legacies of the intermingling that followed can be seen everywhere in Bahia. The food, whether hawked by street vendors or served in restaurants, reminds me of the fare I got used to as a kid in N’kongsamba and Dakar. There’s acarajé, a dough of black-eyed peas fried in dendê (palm) oil; vatapá, a fish soup made with coconut milk and lemongrass; and xim xim da galinha, a stew of fried chicken and shrimp. I have to admit, though, that these childhood memories quickly gave way to a more immediately striking impression. Everywhere in the streets, you see stunningly beautiful women. These magnificent, statuesque Baianas sport the same colourful costumes as their sisters on the other side of the Atlantic, while carrying heavy loads on their heads with the same prodigious ease. The men stand out as well, confidently flaunting the full splendour of their bodies, much to the dismay of the tourists, who are invariably pale and flabby. On the beaches, the Baianas’ itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny bikinis cover very little of their dark skin: maximum women, minimum coverage. Just as these divine creatures are everywhere, so are a multitude of divinities. Indeed, the city seems guided by unseen forces – a sort of living, omnipresent, blended spirituality – which comes as quite a surprise to most visitors from the materialist Western world. "The Brazilians love to believe. They especially enjoy mixing and matching belief systems, as if that puts a maximum of higher powers on their side, just in case," Bénédicte surmised between mouthfuls of acarajé at a restaurant one evening. Later that night, after I’d finished unravelling the world with my anthropologist guide, I dropped by a little bistro, just off a street called Banco dos Ingleses. I ordered a local beer. The waitress, speaking in Spanish that was even worse than mine, led me to understand that she was pregnant and that her fondest wish at that moment was for her child to be born with beautiful blue eyes, just like the ones the heavens had granted me. She had me lay my hands on her belly and recite three times, after her, an incantation – the meaning of which, of course, was utterly foreign to me. I set about my duty in front of all the other patrons, my forehead flaring red with embarrassment. My tablemates were kind enough to applaud and laughingly bought me another beer. On the strength of that "mystical" experience, I had reason to be suspicious when I learned that Salvador de Bahia, in addition to its 160 churches, boasts no fewer than 1,000 terreiros. These are temples devoted to the practice of candomblé, whose devotees worship a host of divinities known as Orixás, such as Ogum, the warrior god, and Oxóssi, the god of the hunt. In the Afro-Brazilian version of the religion, each person must discover and venerate his or her own Orixá through the practice of candomblé – a sort of rite of passage from the physical realm (aiye) to a parallel cosmic beyond (orun). In many shops and small restaurants, I saw shrines to the domestic Orixás, along with offerings of food, coffee and even cigarettes. Two days before I was due to leave, I went to watch one of the more spectacular candomblé ceremonies. Following Bénédicte’s advice, I found my way to a terreiro located in a large yard in the neighbourhood of Candeal (though, frankly, the temple’s neon lighting and cement floor were less than exotic). The Orixá being celebrated on this occasion was Oxóssi. The few dozen faithful were in a trance state, fully immersed in the percussive rhythms and chanting. The men whirled about on the spot, their eyes rolled back in their heads; the women’s bodies shook seismically. It wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed such a frenzied display of dance. I also had the privilege of attending an explosive rehearsal by the Balé Folclórico da Bahia. For two non-stop hours, in a stiflingly hot room, some 40 dancers went wild before our eyes, borrowing moves from African dance. Jaão, at 19 one of the troupe’s youngest members, later told me: "I feel that what we do is art, but it’s also about empowerment and protest." Art and protest – just like the capoeira, which flourished mainly in the state of Bahia. In Africa, capoeira was originally a much-feared form of combat, with a heavy reliance on kicks. Beginning in the 16th century, however, slave communities in Brazil disguised it as a form of dance/gymnastics, hiding its true purpose from their masters. As with many martial arts, new styles are still cropping up today, but two schools in particular stand out, as Bénédicte told me: "Each is associated with a famous master: capoeira angola, originally taught by Mestre Pastinha, is the more slowly paced, cunning form, while capoeira regional, pioneered by Mestre Bimba, is faster and more aggressive." Mestre Bimba’s academy is housed in a former plantation home in the Pelourinho district, where Nenel, Bimba’s son, carries on the tradition. He conducts the jogo (capoeira game) by playing the berimbau, a single-stringed bamboo instrument that resembles an archery bow with a gourd at one end. The capoeiristas – both men and women – form a circle, the roda, within which they face off in pairs. The combatants stare each other down, then bend backward at the knees, arch their backs and touch the ground with one hand and kiss it before springing forward. The capoeiristas try to synchronize their movements with the rhythms provided by Nenel’s berimbau playing and his singing. Blows are struck and dodged with superhuman speed and agility. I was transfixed. "You can learn capoeira in five minutes... or you can take an entire lifetime," Mestre Nenel explained. "And if it takes you all your life to learn it, that’s because capoeira becomes life for those who learn it." Bénédicte wasn’t about to challenge that assertion; nor was I. ----- SALVADOR DE BAHIA The rich history of Salvador, linked with that of Africa, has left its mark everywhere - from the flavours and colours of the city to its relaxed pace. WHERE TO STAY Praiamar Hotel Not exactly the last word in chic, but blessed with an exceptional location: in the Porto da Barra neighbourhood, close to all amenities and next to a magnificent beach. And the service is excellent. Av. Sete de Setembro, 3577 55-71-264-7011 Enseada da Lajes All the services you’d expect from a grand hotel, located in a sumptuous heritage home full of antiques and artworks. The hotel belongs to Brazilian singing star Gal Costa. Av. Oceânica, 511 55-71-336-1027 WHERE TO EAT Sorriso da Dadá Find out why the Afro-Bahian cuisine here is a cut above. Dadá, the owner, got her start selling her dishes in street stalls and is a living legend in Bahia. Rua Frei Vicente, 05 55-71-321-9642 Maria Mata Mouro A delicious amalgam of international cuisine and local specialties. The service is matchless and the ambience is pleasant, with a pretty garden. Rua Inácio Acciolle, 08 55-71-321-3929 Yemanjá A 20-minute taxi ride from the historic town centre. Don’t miss the sumptuous seafood. Usually quite busy until the wee hours because of its reputation and reasonable prices. Av. Otàvio Mangabeira, 4655 55-71-231-3036 WHAT TO DO Itaparica Plan a jaunt to one of the 40 or so islands in Baia de Todos os Santos. A sea-bus goes from the port, beside the Mercado Modelo, to Itaparica, the largest of the islands. Here, the pace of life is even more relaxed than in Bahia, and the beaches and architecture are breathtaking. Food and accommodations are modestly priced. Museu Carlos Costa Pinto This ancient villa houses a rich collection of luxury objects, including porcelain, silverware and furniture, as well as charms and amulets once worn by slaves. The garden is also well worth a visit. Av. Sete de Setembro, 2490 55-71-336-6081 WHERE TO SHOP Mercado Modelo (Model Market) Go to listen to music, celebrate and raise a glass. If you go to shop, make sure you haggle. This 19th-century market is one of the city’s most popular gathering places and the perfect spot to take in shows and other cultural events. INFORMATION Brazil Tourism Office 1-800-7-brazil www.braziltourism.org HOW TO GET THERE Air Canada, in conjunction with Star AllianceTM member Varig, offers service to Salvador de Bahia via São Paulo.
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