Musings in Salvador

The beat of percussion resonates, permeates the hot afternoon.
A lazy thick atmosphere rushes with a fast paced urgent vibe.
So much to attend to - people surging, attractions pulling.
Junkies sit on church steps in the 'Terreiro de Jesus'
Hawkers dripping with beads approach and bestow ribbon tied blessings on us with one hand
All the while reaching for our wallets with the other - wearing me down, testing my resolve.
Authentically dressed in fake tourist pleasing garb - photos for sale, authenticity turned cheap.
Barefoot children run amongst the ankles of baton weilding security guards - all keeping an eye on the tourists - eager to please - eager to sell.
A false facade desperately trying to market the real heart of this nation - a sell out, an up sell.
Jesuits and hoodoo, cocaine and crack oozing, dripping mixed with the sweat of passionate Samba dancers.
Friendly looks and eager conversations belie desperate survivors all looking for a handful of change.
Blue eyes in black skin captivate, yet urgent grip and posessive attention yield the motive - a dance, a gram, a favour owed.
To taste the reality, one must bite thru the flavoursome skin and into the core - the broken, damaged, dog eat dog spirit of this beautiful culture rich city...
My bitter sweet Salvador love affair.