Due to the rain and leaking ceilings, it was quite easy to get up early in the morning and be on our way. The road to Salvador passed through the Parque Nacional de Chapada Diamontina. This particular park is known for it's rock formations and waterfalls. It's also the location of Brazil's historic diamond mines. In order to hike through the park, one must use a guide, and one place to get a guide is at the French influenced town of Lencois.
Our drive east took up into the mountains, and along the way we passed several fruit stands like this one. The types of fruits and goods being sold at the fruit stands varied depending on the part of the country we were traveling through.
In order to slow traffic through towns, there are large, high speed bumps. Positioned at the speed bumps were boys and men selling nuts, fruits, candies, pop and other treats. Some people had also set up larger fruit and snack stands just past the speed bumps.
When we passed over the mountains, we entered a drier, more desert-like part of the country. Fields here were for cattle ranching rather than growing soy beans. This is the first part of the country that I had seen cactus as well.
It took about 8 hours from Seabra to Salvador. Traffic got more dense and the road became a divided four lane highway at Feira de Santana, a major crossroads city just west of Salvador. One of the things we noticed most is how different Brasilia is from these other cities. We felt like we were finally passing through the "real" Brazil.
Salvador is a major city that is built up the hills surrounding bays and inlets of the Atlantic ocean. The homes in the outskirts of town were stacked up the hills and lacked the stucco finishes of homes one would see in more middle-class neighborhoods.
As we drove further into town, the roads got bigger and faster, and we soon learned that directional road signs were often difficult to identify and follow. During our week in Salvador, we ended up getting lost every time we went into town. Each time we got lost, we became more confident as we figured out how to read the maps, recognize landmarks, and find our way through the maze of city streets and neighborhoods. But this first time we came into town was actually nerve-racking and a little frightening, especially after hearing all the stories of gang ambushes and car-jacking.
Somehow, we completely missed the spur to the airport that we were searching for and ended up down by the marina, on a one-way road, and not quite certain where to go. I panicked and when I saw a person dressed up like a tour guide, I pulled over and asked for directions. The tour guide (of which there are many to be found in Salvador) showed me his credentials (which they all do) and then started explaining how he could help us find the airport for R$100. I looked at my wife, trying to see if she had any answers, then invited the guide into car, and he took us to the airport. Later that day, we took a closer look at the maps and learned that we could have easily found our way back out of town. That ended up being the first of our many donations to the local economy.
After we picked up our landlord's nephew from the airport, we followed him and his brother to the home we rented for the week in a condominium community near the beach town of Arembepe. One the way, we encountered a police road block. They were checking for cars with expired registrations. Because of our diplomatic plates, we were not stopped, but our guides were. We waited for several minutes, and finally all of us were permitted to leave. It turns out the they were fined R$50 because they receipt they had of paying for the registration was over 30 days old, but they ended paying R$100 because the cops refused to make change. The entire time, the police were also telling them to not call or talk to me. They probably recognized the diplomatic plates and didn't want a government official interfering. Our guides were also Americans by the way.
Later, as they related the story to us, I felt sorry for them. I was trying to think if there was anything I could have done to aid them in that situation. Perhaps I could have stood with my cell phone and pretended to call my Federal Police contacts, or taken their names, or something. So far, that has been our only encounter with police corruption while in Brazil.
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