AMID stunning wilderness scenery, pretty towns and everything else South America has to offer, we have spent time in some of the continent’s major cities.
Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, Santiago, Lima and Quito all left their mark in various ways.
But after our 11-day beach week jaunt along the Bahian coast, Salvador came as something of a shock to the system.
Mind you, Salvador is likely to come as a shock to anyone’s system.
It is a heady mix of colour, rhythm, cobbled streets, church, music, tourist traps, history and the clash of South American and African cultures.
Brazil’s third biggest city – after Sao Paulo and Rio – made its name (and money) through the slave trade and attendant commercial opportunities and is billed as the biggest African city outside the continent itself.
Perched on the huge Baia de Todos os Santos (All Saints’ Bay), it is split in two by the cliff which initially made it so attractive as a natural defence – the Cidade Alta reached from the lower Cidade Baixa by the Elevator Lacerda lift and funicular railway.
It comes with a reputation for a unique culture and as a dangerous place for anyone wandering in to the wrong place or touting anything worth taking.
Which, even after one of our party found out the perils first hand on an early-morning solo explore, provides a difficult conundrum.
Leaving all but essential items behind and with as little money as necessary, particularly after dark, it leaves you with a difficult decision – leave or take your camera or phone when there is so much to capture as you wander around the upper old town.
All this had been drummed into us as we arrived, a bit frazzled in the heat after a wait to cross the bay from the ferry, and bade farewell to the truck for a few days.
But our life was made easier by a lift ride up to the higher level and a mercifully short walk to our digs in the cobbled Pelourinho district – most of us in an annexe (named the Dog House) round the corner from our hostel with its associated bar and restaurant across the road.
And life became even easier as we regrouped moments later for the hostel’s nightly happy hour of free caipirinhas.
Which we took full advantage of each night. Some almost by accident while doing laundry.
Refreshed by the caipirinhas, piles of food served up on the street pretty much outside our room, a live music show complete with extraordinary drummers and a mysterious Bez-style figure in a gimp suit, air con, a first bed for almost two weeks and an absence of sand, we were ready to explore at a fairly civilised hour the next morning.
By the time we regrouped for more free caipirinhas that evening, it was clear most of us had fallen for the charms of Salvador and, in many cases, had rather less room in our luggage with new purchases.
And that was before we took to the narrow cobbled streets and got swept up in the hypnotic drumming which took over the entire district.
The plan was simple. Find a group of drummers and follow them and the rhythm until you stumbled across another one.
Utterly joyous and captivating as the smiles when we again regrouped outside Zulu Bar would attest.
And quite tiring apparently, considering how quiet much of the next day was, although a lot of that was down to the heavy rain which had us sheltering back in the bar to do our Suriname visa applications before a sedate evening.
After a few more free caipirinhas.
Refreshed, much of the group headed out on a morning walking tour but by the time we jumped ship after the ridiculously gold Sao Francisco church there were just a couple left.
More rain provided an excuse for a quiet afternoon while others attended a class in cooking a moqueca – a Bahian form of fish stew/curry (which they are currently trying to put into action around me) – before a final assault on the free caipirinhas and an evening at a dance show telling the story of slaves and Salvador.
Surprisingly enjoyable and athletic, even if we had no idea what was going on half of the time.
And with that, we bade farewell to Salvador and turned away from the coast which has been our companion for much of the time since leaving Ushuaia at the far south of the continent.
Our next stop in Lencois was much quieter, to the point it was easy to find which street stall people were drinking outside because there was not many streets to search.
When we found them, certainly did not expect to have our pina coladas topped up liberally by a waiter brandishing a bottle of vodka which may have been older than him.
Much of our time in Lencois was spent sheltering from the downpours, listening to the music which booms out regardless of the time and heading out on day trips around the local natural attractions.
Which, over the course of a couple of trips in differing conditions, dependent on who was feeling well enough for the first one, we headed out to explore caves, snorkel with turtles (just Lisa got lucky on that one), shelter from the rain, climb a cliff for some stunning views, ruin some Instagram pictures and swim in a river. Before it got too deep after the rain.
Rain ensured a soggy end to our next bush camp on the banks of the Rio Palmeiras – where even in the middle of nowhere, somebody was having a party until the early hours within earshot.
But after Salvador, we are up for anything.
