About 200 of us followed the Piper through the narrow streets of Pelourinho last night. Anyone who remembers Paul Simon’s “Obvious Child” (from the Rhythm of the Saints album—if it isn’t handy, it is on YouTube) will remember the incredible drummers from Salvador: Olodum. Well, we gathered in the street at Casa De Olodum somewhere around 8:30PM to join 8 drummers who took us on more than a journey. Soon we were marching through these streets no more than 15 feet wide including the sidewalks. Everyone had to move. Everyone did move. The embracing rhythms soon had more than the drummers swaying, swinging, not marching really but dancing, dancing, dancing. The procession soon had the 8 drummers’ captivating rumbles reverberating off the walls followed by a train of some 200 people in various dances, led by impromptu dancers who clearly knew how to dance. The somewhat discrete police blocked the tiny intersections with their Toyotas (one was enough to block the whole intersection). There wasn’t any traffic anyway so the police could enjoy the parade too. This is Bahia and it lives up to its reputation: friendly, happy, mostly open people. Sometimes, usually, disarmingly so. In all the hubbub, clamor, and music not just from the drummers, but music and other urban sounds coming from the clubs we passed, the suspicious dark alleyways, emanating from the upper floors of the 2-story residential neighborhood, people were happy. Crowds jostled and people politely apologized or gave hand signals: “I’m cool, you cool?” Bahia extends to Morro de Sao Paulo where we “rested” from our travels before coming to Salvador. The most laid-back place I think I have been. Smiles and friendliness offset the initial reaction to the Portuguese language which, in my opinion, is rough and sounds angry even when sweet. Then, this small town atmosphere, where everyone knows everyone (including us by the end of our stay), and their boisterous greetings initially seem argumentative or angry—then all smiles, hand waves, pats on the back. Body language—more communicative than words, as usual. That a former cloistered convent should serve as host for our 50th bed (Bunny keeps track of these kinds of things) seems somehow appropriate and odd at the same time. The Pestana Convento do Carmo is a fabulous conversion of this 500+ year old monster of a convent into rather elegant suites (I shared apartments when I was young with 5 other men in apartments smaller than our suite). I’ll save for another time my personal thoughts about the role of convents and monasteries in the perversion of Christianity (no matter what your views of Christianity) and the role of the Church in perpetuating the power elite through the suppression and enslavement of the minds and bodies of the poor—thousands of whom were consigned to these stone prisons also known as “cloisters”. Oops, did I not save the discussion after all? But it is a magnificent building perhaps better suited to its contemporary use(s).