Whilst being described, by Lonely Planet, as the center of Afro-Brazilian culture one other fact is slightly more eye catching when reading about this city and that is the quote “if you are going to get robbed or pick pocketed in Brazil it will probably happen in Salvador”
Arriving at about 9pm I found myself wandering the streets of Pelourinho following lonely planets small map attempting to get my hostel. What LP failed to mention was that the most direct route takes you through a favela. Fortunately for me a helpful crack addict was happy to guide me to my Hostel and for nothing more than a few centavos (thank you Mr. Crack Addict).
Before arriving at my hostel (10 minutes walk) I was asked for money, a sandwich, a drink or anything else people could think of. It would seem that the addicts in the city have quickly learned that asking for cash gets them no where, so they will often ask for food, which they subsequently sell to fund there habit. The other option of course is slightly more criminal and given the title of this blog it is probably about time I visited this issue, especially as the only other theft so far was electronic and thus non confrontational and therefore boring.
Having been in Salvador a few days it was time to head west to Lencois for some trekking, swimming etc etc. Unfortunately earlier in the week, having been in Salvador about 15 minutes I rapidly developed a, shall we say, lower intestinal disturbance. Which to me seems quite strange given the fact that I'd only eaten a prawn based meal which I bought off the streets... who could have guessed?
Anyway due to poor bus timetabling it seemed that I was forced to spend 3 hours in Salvador's somewhat shady bus station. This of course would have not been a problem save for the aforementioned disturbance. Despite any amount of tactical riggling one fact was certain, I would have top brave the public toilet system of Salvador bus station with all my luggage.
Making my way into the bathroom was somewhat difficult, given my volume of luggage, this of course was to be nothing compared with entering a cubicle. Realising I was carrying all my worldly possessions I decided to take a remote cubicle stack my bags and use the facilities...it was at about this point that it all went a little sideways. The size of my bag made maneuvering very difficult so I was not looking behind me. When I finally did turn to enter the cubicle I noted 2 very important things. 1 – was a big black man walking behind me, the other was four sets of eyes peering out form other cubicles. It seems that I had fallen for the “Salvadorian toilet ambush” truly one of the oldest tricks in the book. Entering the cubicle I closed the door, locked it, dropped my bags and reviewed the situation. I had all my possessions, little room to move, a dodgey belly and five people looking my way. Bugger!
I considered using the facilities to remove one of these factors but considered that being set upon in such a position may leave me somewhat...um ...compromised.
I turned and looked back over the stall. Black man still there, 4 sets of eyes still scanning, no visible way out. IU reviewed my 1m x 2m “safe haven”. Toilet seat as a weapon? No they pad toilet seats in this country so it would be like weilding a pillow in a knife fight. Damn it, damn it, damn it! It was at this stage I noticed footprints on the toilet seat and realised that someone else had probably climbed their way out of the situation. O considered this fact. Nope, too much luggage and too clumsy to climb especially given the dicky intestinal tract I was sporting. Ooh this is bad, this is bad, this bad!
I looked back over the cubicle and this time the big black man was gone. I didn't know where, which made me a little jumpy but it did provide some hope. I looked to the other side of the corridor and noted and older man , maybe 55 standing stock still in his cubicle. It was clear to me he had also realised his predicament. He was also frozen in his stall. I made the international face of “what do we do know”and he responded rapidly with a friendly facial tick. Hmmm not so useful. I looked up the corridor again. Nothing. I looked back at the old man and again all I got was a squinting face. Bugger.
My situation was now clear, if I stayed any longer I was almost begging to be “robbed”, I had to make a move and hopefully he would follow...or so I thought.
Looking back at the old man a final time before wading into the fight everything snapped into focus. This time the man squinted again but slowed his squint purposefully. The reality was he was one of those guys who can't quite wink without closing the other eye as well and this to make sure I was 100% about his intentions he also licked his lips, made a kissy face and allowed his hands to travels in a southerly direction towards his fly. Crap!
I reviewed the situation again. I had entered a bus station toilet cubicle at approximately midnight and had been watched by a multitude of eyes hidden behind doors. A man had been walking up and down the corridor selecting his, shall we say evening companion, and there were footprints on the seat top provide the equivalent of a super box bird eye view of the action. If anyone was to get ¨Robbed¨ it would seem that they hoped it was them.
It was at this point that some fear slid away and disappointment set in. If I was to come face to face with a subset of the Brazilian gay community, why couldn't it be the subset that helped to improve your dress sense, re-modeled you apartment or taught you to dance. Why did it have to be the seedy, public toilets based underbelly...and then it hit me. For me, nothing could follow more closely the story of my travels. For those who read my last travel writings you will probably remember the regular references to “George Michael” and my apparent physical similarities. I guess the only way to turn the whole story up a notch was to be involved in a George Michael-esque situation and as I can quite remember all the word to “faith” it seems that the world had little other option but to play the only other card it had left “seedy toilet love”.
I grabbed my bags, choose not use the facilities and boarded the bus for a 6 hour trip to Lencois and decided that the riggling was a small price to pay.
So where is the story of robbery you may well ask? Well that is far less interesting. On a night out I was offered a random piece of jewelery for R$3. I agreed it was a fair price ands handed over R$10. As was often the case in Rio the street dealer had no alternative but head into the nearest shop for change. So the lovely young lady headed into the shop and I waited at the door...for 10 minutes.
“She's not coming back is she”
“Ah...no!”
She had opf course piled into the toilet 9 minutes and 30 seconds earlier and bailed out the window. I shrugged my shoulder and laughed. God I 'm stupid!
Having thoroughly learned my lesson (I did go to university after all), 6 days later I wandered into a shop to buy some water. the shop owner wandered over, stated the price and I again handed over R$10. He wandered to the back office to get some change. At this stage another man ran into the shop and darted into the “back office” read “toilet” to grab the offender who was again climbing out the window. The real shop owner then asked what I wanted and offered to sell me water for twice the price I had payed for the same, water in the same shop 4 days ealrier. I grabbed my money and walked out. Salvador is certainly the center of Afro Brazilian country and is beautiful in many ways, but If I was you I watch your purse strings, avoid public toilets and assess whether or not the man actually has a nervous twitch or if it is something more sinister
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