I’m gone all day, exploring Salvador for hours. I don’t feel tired, I want to see more, learn more and experience more so I push doors, climb uphill, take city elevators and rarely take a break.

Except around 5:30 p.m.

Right before the sun goes down, I grab a café com leite from the nearest bakery and I head to Barra for Mother Nature’s daily show.

The front row tickets are right behind the Farol, Salvador’s iconic lighthouse—you can sit on what should be grass but is burnt by the relentless Bahia sun, a guy with a guitar plays a few popular songs, the crowd sings along and everybody claps when the sun eventually disappears.

But my timing isn’t always perfect, so sometimes I can’t make it to the lighthouse for the music show. It’s okay, anywhere in Barra along the waterfront will do. I found out tonight that the Forte de Santa Maria is a great spot, for instance.

Sunsets are never boring because every night starts differently. You just can’t predict what you’ll get—watercolour clouds, vibrant colours on the horizon, a deep red sun or rays of light that will linger. And there are guest appearances too, like container ships or fishing boats.

Not everybody watches the entire show, but I swear Barra stops for a few minutes right when the sun goes down. Brazilians work hard, and at this time of the day, people are rushing to catch the bus, pack up beach chairs, set up restaurant tables and more. Yet, inevitably, all heads will turn towards the ocean, cell phones will be dug out of a bag, and we will all stare in awe, sharing the moment.

This might have been what the sun wanted, after all—not all the eyes on the star, but an experience we, humans, would share in peace.