“Ew, big city! Itacaré was such a paradise,” a fellow ferry traveller sighed when Salvador’s skyline appeared on the horizon.

I gave a noncommittal nod.

Yes, Itacaré was a paradise, much like the Morro do São Paulo—quiet town, gorgeous scenery, invariably hot weather, and amazing beaches. But frankly, I like big cities as well. I’ve been exploring “remote” Bahia for a few weeks now and I’m looking forward to wandering in various neighbourhoods instead of walking the single main street up and down after sunset, among other things.

I get it. Small town, middle of nowhere, is a perfect shelter in this crazy world.

I feel sheltered in Brazil as well, in a way. Brazilians don’t always have an easy life and it’s not a perfect country but things work, it’s safer than you’d think, people are friendly and many Northern Hemisphere problems are far, far away, including a couple of wars going on, political battles, terrorism, and more.

I haven’t been a big fan of the world since the pandemic. Everything changed, often not in a positive way. Life has become unnecessarily complicated. Common sense is gone. Problems aren’t solved but used to further various agendas. It’s exhausting.

I feel like a complete misfit in North America these days. I feel powerless to change things and I’m not into drugs so this is not an escape option.

So I just run away. But still, I wouldn’t hide in Itacaré for ages, I’d feel too disconnected from the rest of the world. I kind of like the world—when it behaves, of course.

It’s time to go back to Salvador for me. And just like when I was in the Morro do São Paulo, the first challenge was to find a way out and get to the bus terminal.

I found the way out easily enough—a 5.5-hour bus ride to Bom Despacho, on Itacaré Island, then the ferry to Salvador. This is a shortcut because the only other option was to bus back to Ilhéus and take the long 10-hour bus around the Bay of All Saints to Salvador.

Now, Itacaré’s bus terminal was just down the road, a one-kilometre walk, but a tough walk downhill with a backpack at 8 a.m.—no Uber around here.

I got there on time, drenched in sweat.

For mysterious Brazilian reasons, the bus driver proudly announced we wouldn’t stop for lunch but that instead, we’d stop four times—I slept through a couple of stops but the driver made a point of getting a café com leite at every ten-minute stop.

We arrived in Bom Despacho at 2:30 p.m. as planned.

I was wondering how to get from the bus terminal to the ferry terminal but it turned out that both are linked. I bought my ticket and got on the 3 p.m. boat.

It arrived in Salvador an hour later—not at the Terminal Turístico Náutico da Bahia where I took the boat to the Morro but at the Terminal Marítimo de São Joaquim.

Almost a month ago, I thought I’d arrive early and easily when I flew to Salvador from Belo Horizonte—not quite. And this time, I was expecting to be in Salvador around 6 p.m. and here I was, arriving at 4 p.m. The less straightforward way to travel is sometimes the most reliable one!