Candomblè (and more cake)

Today, we went on a program excursion to learn about Candomblè, an incredibly rich and popular Afro-Brazilian religion. Candomblè originated during the slave trade in Salvador and Cachoeira, two main crossroads for product and cultural distribution. We were greeted with an invitation to bathe in holy herbal water, changed into outfits of all white (everyone wears white to ritual ceremonies, this gets tricky with the feast afterwords and the conveniently timed rain), and enjoyed a late breakfast of fruit. We spent the afternoon learning about the religion, its alternative health practices, the music of the ceremonies, and of course ended with another delicious meal of traditional Bahian cuisine. 

traditional Candomblè attire

This week also included trips to the Federal Police (I am now officially legal in this country), the beach,  a spring festival in Campo Grande, Shopping Lapa (a mall around the corner from my apartment which has a ridiculous collection of bathing suits, flip flops, and electronics) and at least five visits to the produce store next to the university where I have class. Through all of the exploring this week, I have learned that arriving a half hour late is actually considered to be arriving early, that red lights are completely optional, and that walking anywhere in this warm weather is far more enjoyable with ice cream or an acai smoothie. 

Cidade Baixa (the lower part of Salvador)

A government building (I think)

Bus ride down the coast of Salvador

And for the weekly update on my Brazilian family and personal baker... I have now added another cake and homemade flan to my list of delicious treats which Ciara calls "leftovers". She is certainly raising the standards for leftovers all over the world one pastry at a time. I have mastered doing homework and watching novelas at the same time (my host siblings really have this down, I'm just trying to fit in). 

homemade flan

I have also learned that tchau only means goodbye (NOT HELLO), which is quite confusing given my Italian background (in which ciao is used to greet). This explains why my host Dad laughed at me every single time I greeted him with Tchau!, essentially saying seeya later! I guess three weeks late is better than never?