It is
surprising how long you cannot actually stand on deck and listen to the sound
of the waves being split by the bow of our ship. A different definition of time
seems to be in effect, a gentler one, one that does not interrupt your
pondering, that does not urge you to attend the next event. There is just -
time. When in our lives do we still have that? And so everybody starts to walk
a little bit slower, hands in the pocket, a book under the arm maybe or a drink
in hand.
Of course we
are not suspended from things that happen; still there is a couple of lectures
for those who want, there is the lively conversations over the meals - and
there is wildlife.
We are reaching
the latitudes of the gannets. These amazing birds have a sleek, elegant body
and a long straight beak. Literally they are darting through the warm winds,
hovering next to us as if they want us to take a picture. Until all of a sudden
they fold up their wings and aim straight for the waves, disappearing with the
swiftness of a thrown spear in the water, only to come up seconds later with a
silvery quavering fish. Masters at work.
They are around
us every day, but as we approach the port of San Salvador de Bahía they turn
away and leave us alone.
In the morning
light we make pier in Brazils third largest city, about 800 miles northeast of
Rio. Most are out on deck and squint in the bright hot sun. The air is damp,
tropical and has a distinct smell of low latitude.
How must the
early navigators have felt this, when they came here over 500 years ago?
Paintings of the conquering times of the Spanish and the Portuguese show them
going ashore in heavy, shiny armors. Not a good idea, if you ask me...
And suddenly we
are in the middle of a buzzing, mildly chaotic but immensely colorful city, by
far the oldest in Brazil, and also its first capital.
The enormous
wealth the place gained through sugar cane, tobacco, and coffee is manifested
in the super rich colonial architecture. The slow but inexorable decline over
the following centuries, too: Many of the buildings have lost all their
splendor and are now slowly reconquered by the lush plants of the tropics,
balconies and facades in the firm grip of trees and xxx. Not many have been
preserved as well as the over-generously decorated Franciscan convent of Saõ
Francisco, where gold is the prevailing color.
The Ciudad
Alta, the upper city, is one of the most picturesque in South America, steep
cobblestone alleys lead among candy-colored houses, wheelbarrows with tropical
fruit are rolling by, and the air is full of spices. African spices, very
often. The local cuisine is dominated by African ingredients, like the Vapatá,
the classical dish. About 80 percent of the population has direct African
ancestors, as in former times the unbelievable number of 3,8 million slaves
were brought here, mostly from Ghana and Mali.
After some most
enjoyable tropical hours it is time to get back to FRAM, and in the dwindling
light of the day we cast lines and leave Brazil.
Now it is time
to make across the Atlantic.
Equator, here
we come!
