On Monday morning, I had two options—left, down to Salvador’s famous lighthouse or right, up to Salvador’s famous city elevator.

I looked up to the sky. Lovely fluffy clouds, no rain, maximum sweat factor with 75% humidity and 35⁰C.

I’m a masochist, so I turned right.

I vaguely remembered how to get to the Elevador Lacerda and further to the famous Pelourinho historic centre—Avenida Sete de Setembro all the way up. Salvador isn’t a city where you can just wander around and see where you end up but this 40-minute walk is a reasonable option. Up to the Teatro Castro Alves, it’s Graça, home to fancy buildings and several museums, like the Museu de Arte da Bahia, so it’s pretty safe. And except for the fact you’re going uphill, it’s actually a pleasant walk because giant trees have been growing for probably decades or centuries right in the middle of the sidewalk—they provide plenty of shade and somehow, they didn’t destroy the lovely Portuguese pavement (looking at you, Recife and São Paulo!).

Then the avenue becomes a busy commercial street with tons of clothing shops and vendors on the sidewalk. This part is safe until sunset because it empties out around 5:30 p.m.

I was so focused on the “getting there” part of the walk that it took me a few minutes to relax and look around me.

This is when I started to feel the pulse of Salvador—and suddenly, the city took my breath away.

The smell of azeite de dendê always floats in the air because here and there, Baianas in traditional clothing are selling acarajé fried in red palm oil—these black-eyed peas, onions, and peppers mixed into fritters are both a tasty snack and an offering to the orixás, deities in Candomblé, the Afro-Brazilian religion.

Most buildings are a testimony to Salvador’s complex colonial history and sociodemographics. They seem to err on the side of “classy but falling apart” and they perfectly illustrate the patchwork of cultures in Bahia—colourful, interesting, and exotic to my eyes.

I was a sweaty mess by the time I arrived at the elevator but it was worth it. I needed this walk to remind myself why I had decided to stay in Salvador for a few weeks—I spent so much time worrying about the whole logistics of backpacking, finding Airbnbs, picking safe neighbourhoods and wondering about the meaning of life in general that I had almost forgotten why I wanted to explore this corner of Brazil.

The Elevador Lacerda is Salvador’s unique public elevator system connecting the upper town to the lower town. Don’t expect a panoramic view—you’re stepping into a fairly basic Schindler-type elevator along with 26 other passengers for just thirty seconds.

“How much it is these days? Like, one real?”

“Cheaper,” I told Feng.

“Fifty cents?”

“Actually, 0.15 reais.”

“No way!”

“I know, right? When was the last time you paid 3 cents for something?”

“Did you even have change?”

“I had 25 cents. They have a shitload of coins for change, though. I wonder if Banco do Brasil delivers them buckets of coins every day because even the supermarket has to call a manager to break a 20-real note…”

But why an elevator, you might ask?

Because the steep streets connecting the upper and lower town, basically the residential area and the churches to the ports and merchants, weren’t exactly safe—even today, they aren’t recommended, although I don’t know what’s urban legend and what’s actually true.

The view from Cidade Alta is amazing, especially considering you’re not exactly supposed to wander around Cidade Baixa. This is an opportunity to see it, basically.

I stood there several days in a row—as you’ll see, the sky and the light offer a different show every time.