Eye of the Ox

We returned to Salvador today and made plans to go a famous restaurant in Bahia called Boca de Galinha or Mouth of the Chicken. We drove the car while the elders took the bus. But don’t blame me they wanted to take the bus. We drove to the Cidade Baixa Lower City district of Salvador. If anyone is interested there is a steamy nearly soft-core porno film with the same name.
We paid R$1.00 to take the ferry across the bay to the restaurant. I would have taken pictures of the beautiful scenery if Joice had not warned me about the street kid Ne’er-do-wells who were aboard our ship.
We walked up a steep hill and eventually found our restaurant. It had a stunning view overlooking the entire city from across the bay. It was a decent restaurant complete with plastic chairs and tables that is commonplace in Brazil. They didn’t have room for our party of 8 so we waited across the street for our table. A waiter form the restaurant came and we ordered some beer and soda as we sat in the shade. We were sipping our drinks when The waiter returned and told us the bad news that they had run out of shrimp and all fish except for one called Olho de Boi or Eye of the Ox. This sent a shudder and complaints throughout our party. We took a vote as whether to stay or go. We were indecisive and probably would have sat in the shade complaining all afternoon if Joice had not take the initiative and paid for our tab.
We ran and caught the next ferry going back to Salvador. I don’t think I’ve felt whiter than when I got on this boat. It was a packed boat and we had to sit on the very tip.
We got back to Salvador and everyone was delirious from hunger. We settled on a churassacaria/pizza restaurant. The ambiance reminded me of an old gymnasium complete with the florescent lights that gave off a yellowing hue to the skin. The lunch was mediocre at best. I think I’ve finally found a family that is more difficult to eat with than my own.
After lunch we went next door to a famous ice cream shop that serves standard and exotic flavors of ice cream made from Amazon fruits. Most of them tasted like some form of plum iced cream concoction.
Later that evening Joice, Taynah and I went to buy a fan, as my room is a hot prison cell that provides little relief from the heat. The fan was $78 reais ($40 American) but well worth the price. We got to the cash register and realized we had gotten the wrong fan. They called for a price check. In Brazilian mega stores a price check is done through a roller skate donned worker who skates around the store typically wearing a helmet and kneepads. He found the correct price and we were off. Joice suggested that we try the fan out before taking it home. We asked if we could plug it in the store but they wouldn’t allow this after purchase. Joice says there is no such thing as a refund in Brazil.
We got some acarajé, a typical Baiana food outside of the store from some Baiana women dressed in traditional costumes of bright colored dresses of green, blue and white. The dresses had intricate patterns that looked like they could have been from the west coast of Africa, or the western edge of Langley Park’s African community’s closet. The acarajé was delicious and filling. The outside is a crispy fried white bean paste that is fried in palm oil turning it into a golden brown patty. The patty is sliced open filled with shrimp, a sand colored paste and spicy pepper. The dende palm oil is strong in flavor and is hard to avoid getting on your hands and face. The inside of the patty is warm with the consistency of textured cornbread.
Joice and I got a drink at the bar across the street. Talked for a while then came back and watched some of the pirated DVD I bought the other day. I was going to stay in a cheap motel that Joice’s mother had found close by, but the hotel was grungy and I felt I wouldn’t have made it through the night. The prices for rooms were $15 for a room, $25 for a room with a fan, and $35 for a room with a fan with a TV. What a deal!