Salvador and around

Capoeira began in Angola as a ritual fight to gain the nuptial rights of women when they reached puberty; since then it has evolved into a graceful semi-balletic art form somewhere between fighting and dancing. It did so because African slaves were denied the right to practice their ritual fighting, and so disguised or changed it into the singing and dancing form seen today. Displays of capoeira – often accompanied by the characteristic rhythmic twang of the berimbau – in Salvador are plentiful and usually take the form of a pair of dancers/fighters leaping and whirling in stylized “combat”; with younger capoeiristas, this occasionally slips into a genuine fight when blows land by accident and the participants lose their temper.

The capoeiristas normally create a roda which anyone may join. It involves a circle of spectators including drummers, berimbaus, singing and clapping to encourage the two “playing” inside the roda. A spectator may take the place of one of the capoeiristas by exposing the palm of their hand towards the person they would like to “play” with and a new game begins. The basic method of moving around the roda is the ginga, a standing, stepping motion that includes the role (rolling) and au (cartwheeling) movements, respectively. These are not set moves, so capoeiristas can adapt them to their own style. The players then attack each other and defend themselves using these basic methods, along with a range of kicks such as the spinning armada. To avoid the kicks, players fall into various stances like the queda de tres, a crouching position with one arm raised to defend the head. Only the feet, hands and head of the players should touch the floor during the game.

There are regular displays – largely for the benefit of tourists but interesting nevertheless – on Terreiro de Jesus and near the entrances to the Mercado Modelo in Cidade Baixa, where contributions from onlookers are expected. You’ll find the best capoeira, however, in the academias de capoeira, organized schools with classes that anyone can watch, free of charge. All ages take part, and many of the children are astonishingly nimble; most capoeiristas are male, but some girls and women take it up as well. The oldest and most famous school, the Associação de Capoeira Mestre Bimba, named after the man who popularized capoeira in Salvador in the 1920s, is still the best and may have classes open to tourists. Other schools are at the other end of Cidade Alta, at the Forte de Santo Antônio Além do Carmo. The Grupo de Capoeira Pelourinho has classes on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday from 7pm to 10pm; and the Centro Esportivo de Capoeira Angola is open all day until 10.30pm on weekdays, though you have to turn up to find out when the next class is; late afternoon is best, as afternoon and evening sessions are generally better attended. Saturday is the best bet to catch a class in most schools, but stop by any early evening or late afternoon and just ask.

The Pelourinho district is now an attractive and much visited area, but it wasn’t always this way. In the early 1990s the area was virtually derelict, with many of the colonial buildings falling to pieces and tourism in decline. The neighborhood’s makeover is thanks to Bahia’s most famous – and controversial – politician, Antônio Carlos Magalhães. Widely disliked elsewhere in Brazil as an unreconstructed representative of the country’s landed elite, the silver-haired ACM (as he’s known) is popular in Bahia because of his tireless campaigns on behalf of his home state; you’ll see his picture hanging up in many of the city’s bars. Pelourinho’s revival, which he undertook as state governor, was certainly impressive. Some of the most important colonial architecture has been restored to its original glory, the pastel pinks and blues creating a wonderfully gaudy effect. Critics point out many local residents had to be moved out and complain the area has become dominated by tourism. There is some truth to this, but you’ll still see plenty of locals enjoying themselves alongside the tourists, and the economy is clearly thriving; on the whole, it’s hard to argue that Pelourinho was better off as a decaying shadow of its former self. Furthermore, you only have to wander fifty metres off the beaten Pelhourinho path to find yourself in dark and sometimes dodgy backstreets.

The secret of Bahian cooking is twofold: a rich seafood base, and the abundance of traditional West African ingredients like palm oil, nuts, coconut and ferociously strong peppers. Many ingredients and dishes have African names. Most famous of all is vatapá, a bright yellow porridge of palm oil, coconut, shrimp and garlic, which looks vaguely unappetizing but is delicious. Other dishes to look out for are moqueca, seafood cooked in the inevitable palm-oil-based sauce; caruru, with many of the same ingredients as vatapá but with the vital addition of loads of okra; and acarajé, deep-fried bean cake stuffed with vatapá, salad and (optional) hot pepper. Bahian cuisine also has good desserts, less stickily sweet than elsewhere: quindim is a delicious small cake of coconut flavoured with vanilla, which often comes with a prune in the middle.

Some of the best food is also the cheapest, and even gourmets could do a lot worse than start with the street-corner baianas, women in traditional white dress. Be careful of the pimenta, the very hot pepper sauce, which newcomers should treat with respect, taking only a few drops. The baianas serve quindim, vatapá, slabs of maize pudding wrapped in banana leaves, fried bananas dusted with icing sugar, and fried sticks of sweet batter covered with sugar and cinnamon – all absolutely wonderful.

Candomblé, a popular Afro-Brazilian religious cult, permeates Salvador. Its followers often dress in white and worship together in ecstatic dance rituals accompanied by lots of drumming and singing, or otherwise communicate with and make offerings to the Orixás spirits – personal protectors, guides and go-betweens for people and their creator-god Olorum.

A candomblé cult house, or terreiro, is headed by a mãe do santo (woman) or pai do santo (man), who directs the operations of dozens of novices and initiates. The usual object is to persuade the spirits to descend into the bodies of worshippers, which is achieved by sacrifices (animals are killed outside public view and usually during the day), offerings of food and drink, and above all by drumming, dancing and the invocations of the mãe or pai do santo. In a central dance area, devotees dance for hours to induce the trance that allows the spirits to enter them. Witnessing a possession can be quite frightening: sometimes people whoop and shudder, their eyes roll up, and they whirl around the floor, bouncing off the walls while other cult members try to make sure they come to no harm. The mãe or pai do santo then calms them, blows tobacco smoke over them, identifies the spirit, gives them the insignia of the deity – a pipe or a candle, for example – and lets them dance on. Each deity has its own songs, animals, colours, qualities, powers and holy day; there are different types of candomblé, as well as other related Afro-Brazilian religions like umbanda.

Many travel agencies offer tours of the city that include a visit to a terreiro, but no self-respecting cult house would allow itself to be used in this way – those which do are to be avoided. The best alternative is to go to the main Bahiatursa office, which has a list of less commercialized terreiros, all fairly far out in the suburbs and best reached by taxi. Make sure the terreiro is open first; they only have ceremonies on certain days sacred to one of the pantheon of gods and goddesses, and you just have to hope you’re lucky – though fortunately there’s no shortage of deities.

If you go to a terreiro, there are certain rules you must observe. A terreiro should be respected and treated for the church it is. Clothes should be smart and modest: long trousers and a clean shirt for men, non-revealing blouse and trousers or long skirt for women. The dancing area is a sacred space and no matter how infectious you find the rhythms you should do no more than stand or sit around its edges. Don’t take photographs without asking permission from the mãe or pai do santo first, or you will give offence. You may find people coming round offering drinks from jars, or items of food: it’s impolite to refuse, but watch what everyone else does first – sometimes food is not for eating but for throwing over dancers, and the story of the gringos who ate the popcorn intended as a sacred offering to the spirits is guaranteed to bring a smile to any Brazilian face.

Having steadfastly resisted commercialization, Carnaval in Salvador has remained a street event of mass participation. The main hubs of activity are Cidade Alta, especially the area around Praça Castro Alves – which turns into a seething mass of people that, once joined, is almost impossible to get out of – and, in recent years, Porto da Barra, equally crowded and just as enjoyable. The other focal point of Carnaval is the northern beaches, especially around the hotels in Rio Vermelho and Ondina, but here it’s more touristy and lacks the energy of the centre. This is an expensive and very hectic time to stay in Salvador; all accommodation more than doubles in price and with added costs like paying to join a bloco or participate in a camarote (a venue with good views over the carnaval route and an organized party thrown in for the duration), you are likely to be spending in excess of R$500–600 a day.

From December onwards Carnaval groups hold public rehearsals and dances all over the city. The most famous are Grupo Cultural Oludum, who rehearse on Sunday nights from 6.30pm onwards in the Largo do Pelourinho itself and on Tuesdays from 7.30pm in the Teatro Miguel Santana on Rua Gregório de Mattos. On Friday night, it’s the turn of Ara Ketu, who start their show at 7pm in Rua Chile, while Ilê Aiyê rehearse on Saturdays from 8pm near the fort of Santo Antônio Além do Carmo. These rehearsals get very crowded, so be careful with your belongings. One of the oldest and best loved of the afoxés is Filhos de Gandhi (“Sons of Gandhi”), founded in the 1940s, who have a clubhouse in Rua Gregório de Mattos, near Largo do Pelourinho, easily recognized by the large papier-mâché white elephant in the hall.

Information about Carnaval is published in special supplements in the local papers on Thursday and Saturday. Again, w www.bahia-online.net is great for information on and contacts for Carnaval. Bahiatursa offices also have schedules, route maps, and sometimes sell tickets for the Campo Grande grandstands. Bear in mind all-black blocos may be black culture groups who won’t appreciate being joined by non-black Brazilians, let alone gringos, so look to see who’s dancing before leaping in.