Samba de Janeiro
So here it was, Carnaval, the week I'd been waiting for, the biggest party in the world. The thing everybody has been talking about since I arrived here.
It began on Friday the 1st of March and ran through to March 6th, Ash Wednesday. This being their version of pancake Tuesday. A week long celebration before shutting off for lent.
I think celebration is actually a bit too weak of a word to describe it.
In truth as the dates got closer I had other things preoccupying my mind and as Friday rolled around I wasn't fully in the Carnaval spirit to say the least but I was willing to join in and fake it till I make it. It's funny that I went through all this effort at the visa office just for seeing this week, essentially, and then I just wasn't feeling it. Everybody was telling me I can't miss this, particularly not as I had stayed here for so long and was planning to leave mere weeks before.
Boy, were they right. This was a spectacle to see and it is the best time in my life to see it. As a single adult after living here for 6 months and being able to speak the language it all seemed to come together so perfectly.
It began on the Friday night but in truth, it is not the biggest night as many people still work until 5 and there is a whole week of festivities to enjoy. This year it was not helped by the absolute downthrow from the heavens which would later entrap us in a house high up on the hills of Santa Teresa.
We arrived late to one of the first blocos, which is the name for all the street parties that occur during the Carnaval season. Some move, some appear to be more like shows. Each type has a theme, although a lot seem to share a common one of a walking band containing a lot of drums and brass instruments that play samba as nearly naked humans flaunt around drinking beer and taking whatever else they can to get them in their vibe.
We missed on our first attempt and as we went to the house of a friend to sort out our previous argument we ended up passing the time drinking inside and being silly until the rain passed and until I, along with my roommate, could head home. The evening could be best described using the phrase 'failure to launch'.
So we made sure that on Saturday we would hit a bloco and actually begin, although not after a morning of watching the football and a few table beers from the bar round the corner. As 3 o'clock rolled around and results came in, the girls came over, we donned our skirts and began to get up in the mood.
Still not feeling overly confident at this point, I donned my easiest costume to wear and began with the first of my Disney princesses, Snow White. The costume may have been a bit small and the skirt, barely covering my y-fronts, did not leave much to the imagination but boy did I have legs to die for. Still not feeling confident, a quick flash to social media gave me a barrage of complements and not so complementary statements, but indeed more ones of fear or disgust.
My friend questioned whether it was ok to go out in, not being sure whether it was legit or too revealing. However in a lovely bit of serendipity, the first person we saw after leaving the house was a man in a skirt more see through than mine with just pants and no shirt on. If anything I was a prude.
But away I went with my nunnery self to the bloco where the first guys we encountered immediately stepped to the girls with a Brazilian style confidence I will never understand, actually too much because the girls swiftly moved on as we battled our way through the crowds following the music. It was definitely too busy but a fairly enjoyable experience. The street was abuzz with excitement and debauchery, all in the disguise of men dressed as women or an assortment of characters. My particular favourite is this girl who went as one of the toy story toys crossing a road.
A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.
Maybe not.
But then after battling through, we parted with the float that was pumping music through and decided to make our way to another bloco, but not before that Brazilian confidence was shown again but this time in the form of a woman who stopped me dead in the street and looking me directly in the eyes, exchanged very few words before going in for the kiss. I had heard about these sort of things happening here but didn't really believe them. Thank you legs.
We were on our way out though and headed in search of a second bloco. The metro on the way was insane, people chanting and banging on the sides, everyone getting involved.
The Carnaval spans all over the city, for miles and during the peak there was about 5 different street parties going on at any one time in just one region. It really was incredible and as my friend said, its not just a type of people who attend or a concentration. It's everybody in the city. Young and old, Black and White, Cariocas and Tourists, all dressed up, all half cut or more and having a good time. Although actually whilst we were on the metro I was not and after another argument, we went our different ways and after I couldn't encounter the 90's bloco, which I am assured was amazing, I made my way home, still in time for the soap.
I think I've made it clear in previous posts they don't work particularly hard, per se, or to be fairer to them, they are just not get up and go kinda people but fuck me, during Carnaval they are, the parties begin at 6, either carrying on from the night before or people arising early to party.
Jose who I hadn't seen surface before 9 on any given day, was out in the morning at 8 to head to blocos, feeling lazy cause he missed the 6 o'clock one!
I was not so early and it took a little longer before we finally went to join him. Feeling a little better in myself, probably after being kissed, I donned my Ariel costume, which I think I absolutely pulled off and we made our way to meet Jose and the girls, a couple, both named Clara. After a metro ride of people chanting and dancing again and a few location mishaps we chased them and found them at the front of the bloco, moving at a pace. The name was Boi Tolo and it was by far the best one we went to.
The main cursor for a good bloco is space. If the road is a good size and you can move freely its 20x better than being squished and moved along, with one arm stuck in the air and one in your pockets. The Clara's were respectively donning a sea-esque outfit, which matched well with me, and a football referee, with ball, whistle and cards to go along with it. And a moustache, which she worked into all of her outfits. I loved it and at many times, as the bloco was moving, we found a bit of space and began games of keepy uppys with passers by who joined in and gave jeers when someone would fuck it up.
3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.
We followed this bloco for miles but the beautiful thing was, it was taking us home. Another good cursor is it being close to home. When you come out and you are close to home its a marvellous feeling. With it being spacious, good weather and temperature and good fun it really made it perfect, we could duck in and out of the epicentre of the party when we wanted/needed and saw many people in great costumes as we passed by. As we were nearing home, legs were tiring and the sun was beginning to mix with the beers making us all a little tired. We kept on for a little more to head into the tunnel before reaching Copacabana and in that tunnel it went fucking off.
The acoustics and atmosphere were incredible and the band built it perfectly, slowing it down, getting everybody crouched down in anticipation before the drop. The whole tunnel becoming filled with sweaty, drunk, happy party-goers jumping around chanting to the sounds of samba. As moments go, it was up there and will always be what I remember when I'm old sat in my chair, telling my grandchild about how when I was boy we didn't just virtual reality to places. We all went back and indulged in steak and beer to finish off before getting home at a good time, ready to begin again the next day. They love to party in the day and relax at night and I gotta tell ya its a good idea, we all love a bit of day drinking. But they do constantly have the sun.
This time I decided, upon recommendation, that I should get up to go to a morning bloco and chose the Sgt Pimenta (pepper) bloco to sing along to a few songs where I knew the words, not just sounds. But in truth when I woke up my body was not very happy with me. Thankfully I had committed already and with a friend pushing me for time, I knew I had to get up. We arrived 35 minutes after the previously agreed time but 5 minutes after the secondary agreement and we were pretty proud of ourselves for this.
This time it was more of a show and upon first arrival, this time in my more low key outfit of Minnie Mouse, I was struggling to get up for it, whilst my friends were already on some strong sweet wine thing which is honestly a terrible thing. Would not recommend. But in all of sudden, probably correlating with sips of beer, the energy came back and it flowed through us throughout the whole morning as the band gave samba renditions of Beatles classics, some not working but others improving on the original. Highlights including the whole crowd belting out 'I wanna hold your handddd', the obvious banger - Twist and Shout, the lovely and meaningful Blackbird and an impromptu scrum with some Brazilian rugby lads nearby. I'm so glad I got dragged out and being pretty drunk dancing along to Beatles samba classics at 11 o'clock on Monday morning was quite something.
We returned in a mischievous state but packed in a wedge of carbs before the next bloco. The less said about that the better. Thankfully though it was close to home and when I snuck out it was amazing to just be able to walk 10 minutes to return and relax for the next day of festivities.
These festivities however, took a considerable amount of time to bring ourselves round to. After 4 days of partying it was an effort to pick ourselves up again, in fact even the Brazilians were showing signs of weakness and in an mutual agreement we committed to one later in the afternoon to give us time for a bit of R & R. But I still had my favourite costume to don - Moana - and we technically had two more days. It started slowly as we wandered through the piss-stenched centre in search of blocos and as we reached our first one, it was far too busy and offered no comfort whatsoever. In truth it probably helped us prolong the drinking and made for a longer lasting enjoyment as the second bloco became great fun again.
A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.
Staying still for a while before parading through the centre we lost ourselves numerous times, thankfully I had my oar, which I was very proud of and Carla had weights for her strongman outfit, and a moustache. Plus a back up moustache. As the road shrank and enlarged, the feeling of the bloco really ebbed and flowed and after a short following through the center of town we made our way to a bloco much closer to home, oh so sweet home. Here the vibe was more dancey and funky but again it was absolutely going off in the streets. We got chatting to a couple of American girls and after a few expensive table beers to finish the night, we went our seperate ways.
If you're now getting tired of this, good, you're beginning to get an idea of how I was feeling and for most, the Carnaval was over. Ash Wednesday was here and it was time to begin lent and the fasting in old times of food and in modern times, alcohol. But oh no, not for me, In the evening I had some friends visiting from England and they are not particularly known for their relaxing demeanor or for having a few quiet ones. Thankfully they didn't arrive till late on the first night to allow me to recover.
As they arrived, we were immediately on the beers in the hotel room and I was pushing through but as an opportunity arose to meet the girl I kissed on the first day, I left them as they went to meet their other friend who was in Rio. It was a very relaxed atmosphere as I joined her friends in the bar. They were all leaving early the next day after a week of Carnaval, which was a shame but we still had a great time, we spent the whole night talking and laughing and looking into each others eyes like we were the only two people in the bar. I really felt an amazing connection with her for such a short time, only for her to leave the next day. But that's how it goes sometimes.
The next day was a down day for Carnaval and I too took the advice, only having some pool beers in the day where I got a good chance to really catch up and have some chats with the lads from home. It's been nice to see some familiar faces and touches from home and it's also been great to show them around, particularly when I took two of them into the infamous Lapa. In an airbnb near to the famous steps we made our way down to indulge in the party atmosphere, and after Bainbridge was on his second Caipirinha in a matter of minutes, myself an Doug only being two sips into our first one, I'll never forget his face watching the 'mean' man pour a truly obscene amount of cachacha (dirt alcohol) into the drink. Bainbridge had already commented to me half way through about how much was going in, the more he poured, the bigger Bainz's eyes went and the more surprised his tone. Here he is.
As we sat having a table beer I could see Bainbridge was well on the way and after they couldn't believe how mental the road was, it was time to head into a club. The funk club filled only with Brazilians was our first destination and as we began dancing with some girls, myself slut-dropping, one of the girls asking Doug to dance, to which he replied, 'I am dancing' and more than he ever has before. We hit up another bar with just as mean drinks before making our way back at 6 in the morning to finish with a night cap on the balcony, overlooking Sugar Loaf mountain and the streets of Rio.
We're almost there. One more night. If I can get up for it, you can read on.
Another slow starter, thank god as we slept in for a good while before exploring the neighbourhood of Santa Teresa and taking part in a few table beers with both, friends here and at home, which was a lovely affair and a good laugh before returning to go to the Sambadromo at night. Fuck sake. I haven't even began to explain the Carnaval parades. YouTube them, the cars are amazing, the costumes extravagant and the people happy. One guy fucking surfed the air on a bunch of drones.
Anyway, we went to the parade of champions and sat watching each samba school go past. On TV they all looked incredible but in truth, we went cheap with the tickets and were sat too far away to appreciate the detail and atmosphere. A couple of caipis deep we decided to rectify this and Doug hatched a plan to infiltrate the VIP area, so down we went, deciding to go with the Englishman, not fully understanding approach and I'm not a terrible blagger of things but Doug appeared a different class, I think at one point I even believed he had lost his tag and deserved to be in there. After trying a few entrances we retired to find the others, before seeing an opportunity to go in the back way disguising ourselves as parade members. Many costumes had been left in piles outside waiting to be discarded, so we picked up a few larger hula style skirts to try and blag our way into the participants area. The guy on the first entrance was having none of it but we soon found a way around that and made it into the first section, the decompression chamber if you will and just as we swaggering into the final sector we were thwarted by another who came to stop us. Can't fault their security on the parade. Boy this place functions around Carnaval.
3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.
So upon returning to Lapa, we ditched the skirts and finally reaching my limit, I grew tired and left the boys to enjoy themselves in the mean streets of Lapa. Of which I'm sure they did until the early hours of the morning.
At the moment, they are having a bit of a relax in the supposedly blissful Iguazu Falls while I fall back into normal life.
It's been an amazing 10 days or so and I've had a wonderful time and it was definitely worth it to stay and see. It was truly marvellous, but now I'm very ready to relax and get myself back in my routine.
What a week.
