salvador has a soul that’s too wet to handle
woke up this morning and immediately regretted everything. not because of the 26.9-degree air - honestly, that’s almost perfect - but because the humidity felt like a grandma’s spa getting stuck in a sauna. i checked and it's... there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. you don’t. i’m sweating like a idiot just typing this, but here we are.
last night, i stumbled into a corner of ria mar that looked like it was painted by a drunk artist. someone told me that the guy who owns the little seafood shack there used to sell contraband sushi during the dictatorship. i didn’t believe it until i saw the price tags on the fried fish - 5 reais for a plate that looked like it stole a bone from a mummy. maybe that’s why the locals say the fish here tastes like regret.
if you get bored, são paulo is just a short drive away, but don’t let that fool you. the traffic is like a sandstorm of honking, and the air quality is worse than a vintage denim jacket left in a monsoon. i heard that... wait, was that a tip or a warning? some old woman at the market whispered it to me while avoiding eye contact. she looked like she’d seen too many ghosts, maybe?
i tried to explore the streets with my old yorkies, but they kept staring at the puddles like they were judging my life choices. the neighbors? they’re weirdly into congas. one family was playing them at 3 a.m. outside their apartment. i almost joined but then remembered that my last attempt at dancing resulted in me tripping over a banana peel. maybe that’s why they kept tossing me mangoes.
the weather here is a character. i just checked and it's... there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. it’s hyperlocal, man. like the city itself is trying to melt into your skin. i overheard a group of teenagers arguing about whether the humidity makes the air ‘too sweet’ or ‘too real.’ i said it’s both, but they weren’t listening. they’re probly too busy trying to find a weatherproof necktie for their prom.
someone told me that the beach here is so crowded during rush hour it’s basically a human sardine can. i laughed until i cried, but then i tried the boardwalk and got swarmed by kids selling glow sticks. one kid asked if i wanted a ‘special deal’ for 2 reais. i said no, but he insisted. i walked away, but not before he gave me a ‘free friendship token.’
i heard that... wait, was that a review or a hallucination? a drunken guy at the hostel said the local bar’s pool table is haunted by a guy who died there. he swore he saw a shadow playing cue balls at 2 a.m. last night. i didn’t believe him until i saw a guy namedpedro at the bar later, muttering about ‘the table’s secrets’ while avoiding eye contact.
if you’re into vintage vibes, salvador’s secondhand stores are a goldmine. i found this dress at a place called ‘tela de verdade’ that looked like it belonged in a david bowie music video. the owner said it was from the ’80s, but the stitching looked newer than my grandma’s recipes. i’m keeping it anyway. maybe it’s a time machine.
the moisture here is relentless. i just checked and it's... there right now. if you don’t pack a rain jacket, you’re basically trading your clothes for a souvenir. i tried wearing my old denim jacket, but it melted slightly. remember that scene from the matrix? this is real life.
i saw a sign at a local café that said ‘no shoes, no shirt, no service.’ i walked in without shoes, got a free t-shirt, and left thinking it was a scam. turns out, the owner is a barista from portugal who’s obsessed with retro fashion. she told me this place is a trap for tourists who think ‘vintage’ means ‘cheap.’ next time, i’m bringing a credit card.
if you’re here for the chaos, salvador gives you the bill. the metro smelled like old pizza and hope. i heard that... wait, was that a review or just a conspiracy? someone claimed the metro’s top station has a secret room where politicians hide during blackouts. i went there at midnight. all i found was a guy selling expired empanadas.
-i just checked and it's... there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. if you don’t, salvador might not be the city for you.
p.s. if you want to survive here, read the reviews. not the fake ones on google, but the ones whispered by locals at 2 a.m. in hostels. here’s a tripadvisor link for the beach vibes: [tripadvisor link]. for the hat situation, try yelp: [yelp link]. and if you need more gossip, check out the ria mar forum: [local forum link].
[i’m attaching some images of salvador’s chaos. click to see the banana peel that ruined my life, the mango giveaway, and the shirtless barista.
]
the city doesn’t care if you like it or not. it just exists, humming with humidity and half-truths. and that’s fine. i’m not here to fix it. i’m just here to sweat it out and maybe find a vintage hat that doesn’t scream ‘i survived a sandstorm.’