Reminiscences of Bahia

Bahia, as the Bahians call the capital city Salvador, was the second city in my life to give me the greatest pleasures and joys ever.

I lived in a one bedroom apartment with a living room that had an extra bed in the alcove leading to a mini-veranda which served as temporary accommodation for one visitor. In the main bedroom there was a robust queen bed made of rosewood difficult to move due to its tremendous weight. A high-quality spring mattress appeared to have been there for ages without any signs of deforming.

In that year of 1977, I was still single and on the verge of getting married, therefore requiring special care and much greater discretion when receiving visits of the female gender, especially now that I was enjoying the highest repute in my building and workplace.

There are lots of different stories that took place there and, rightly, I will tell some of them since memory is something I have in plenty. One night I was heading to Berro d’água restaurant for my customary dinner, one of my favorites on the rim of Barra. I was walking with an air brimming of happiness as I left my house which was located in the middle hub of the neighborhood.

Straight ahead of me, a young girl was walking who, as I passed by, noticed that she was a truly beautiful young woman; light coffee colored skin, medium length hair, eyes shining in the street lamps around us and about twenty-one years old. Gorgeous!

I also noticed that the girl was walking at a slow pace and seemed preoccupied in her thoughts. I approached, as it suits me, with sweet words and open questions as a stimulus to dialogue.

The girl said in an even and quite confident tone that she was indeed thoughtful. Taken back by the disappointment of having come in from the town of Cachoeira to visit her brother who lived in an apartment in Barra, only to arrive and find that he had lady company, the reason for which he asked her to find herself a guesthouse close by. She felt lost, being that it was the second time she had come to Bahia, I mean Salvador, and still not seen practically anything of the capital.

In view of her situation, I offered for her to stay at my house. She revealed even further confidence and said yes, even accepting to have dinner and a glass of beer with me.

The next day I was going to work at 6 am and I was always careful to be in good condition, which is why we had only one beer. We dined a delicious meal, left the restaurant and walked to the Princesa Izabel building, which I’m sure still exists in Barra. In fact, let’s mention in passing, at that time in Salvador, houses were addressed only by number and buildings were known by their name. My address was Edifício Princesa Izabel, apartamento 302.

At home she asked if she could take a shower and I provided a clean towel and new bar of soap. Even while showering, with me standing outside the shower area, we kept talking, especially about Salvador, the state of Bahia’s capital and tourist attraction.

In Cachoeira, she worked at Bradesco, and she gave me enough proof of that. Getting out of the bathroom she was wearing only bra and panties made of a fabric with mesh openings, the only one I’ve seen in my entire life. I offered her one of my t-shirts to wear to bed, since my pajamas were huge for the young lady.
In our conversations we discovered that we had a mutual affinity for literature. I offered her a book I had recently bought. She was happy with the gift and asked me to write a dedication, which I did ​​with affection, all the while full of seriousness and respect. She promised to return on a future occasion and then went to bed. I gave her my queen bed and slept on the little narrow bed in the alcove. Can you believe it!

I’ve always been very trusting to people who I meet and I instructed them to leave the guest key under the door. The following evening, when I got home from work, the key under the door, the carpet was immaculate and the sinks and washbasins were so clean they were gleaming. Clean as a whistle. An unsigned note on the table said that she would come back another time and do an even more detailed cleaning job, she kidded.

Days went by and as I was preparing for the wedding, I received a visit from my mother accompanied by my fiancé. Right as I walked in the door of my apartment with the two, I noticed a letter hanging on the door. I opened and read it. It was the Bradesco girl from Cachoeira communicating that she would arrive that night.

That was the day I managed to get my fiance, my future wife, to leave the house promptly and it was also the night that she and my mom fell in love with the festive ways of the Bahians on the distant beach of Itapuã. It was after midnight when we finally returned to my home.

As we walked in the door, the doorman informed me that a certain person was looking for me and he told her how I had guests that night… According to Zé Carlos, the doorman, she even said, “It seems he’s quite accustomed to having guests…”

But, as you can see, today I am seventy-two years old and twenty-three years divorced, and I feel like the Argentinian writer Jorge Luís Borges who said that he only regretted the things he didn’t do. Even today, almost thirty-seven years later, I still have ravishing dreams with the beautiful banker from Cachoeira.