The Sambódromo Experience

A felicidade do pobre parece a grande ilusão do carnaval
A gente trabalha o ano inteiro por um momento de sonho pra fazer a fantasia

de rei ou de pirata ou jardineira
Pra tudo se acabar na quarta feira

The happiness of the poor is like the big illusion of Carnaval:

We work all year for one dreamy moment

to dress up like a king or a pirate or a gardener,

For everything to end on Wednesday.

(from the song "A Felicidade")

Samba schools. I didn’t actually go to a school this time. Everything gets kind of critical and secret as carnaval nears. The closest I got was when my friend Alessandro and I drove by Mangueira on a spontaneous tour of the city (which deserves a separate post), and I learned that the sprawling favela that my train to Parada de Lucas passes through is the home to this most-popular of samba schools...now I really want to get off there!

Guess what Mangueira's colors are?

As Carnaval approaches, the escolas de samba start moving from their home bases into the Sambódromo and the Cidade do Samba. The Sambódromo is a parade structure built by Oscar Niemeyer in the ‘80s. This year they expanded the seating so more people could attend, but the tickets are still too expensive for most Brazilians. I went to Beija Flor’s technical rehearsal at the Sambódromo the Sunday before carnaval, which was free, so the many people who can’t afford to see the actual parade (and who are perhaps from the neighborhood of the school) attend the rehearsal. There are no floats, fireworks, or elaborate costumes, but the school sings and the bateria plays, and the crowd enjoys it for everything it’s worth (and it’s worth a lot, even though that night is free). The entire school (5,000 or so people) has something like 80 minutes to pass through the 700 meter long passageway. In the meantime, they’re singing and dancing and acting out the elaborate story that the school has chosen as a theme for the year: a famous Brazilian painter, a comparison between England’s 2012 Olympic games and the ones in 2016 that will take place here, famous theatrical productions, Angola...

Free

Not free

Not only did I get to see Beija Flor, I also got to see the 105 year-old Oscar Niemeyer, who took a tour of his creation in a golf cart before the school passed by. What a man! He looked sort of like Humpty-Dumpty from where I stood, but at 105 you can look like whatever you want, especially if you’re proceeding a samba school! There was also this little old lady who was walking around down there before the school: I guess she’s a local, and she kind has the run of the town, so she often takes the liberty to do a little dance before the show. And everyone knows who she is. We’re talking about a city with a population of around 6.5 million...and a kind of small town feel when it comes to local characters!

Oscar Niemeyer and the Little Old Lady

The winners!

And, I wasn’t planing on it, but a friend convinced me to go to the big show on Carnaval Monday. We saw two of the schools I visited last time I was here: São Clemente and Salgueiro, plus Mangueira! I bought the ticket from a scalper on the street, thus contributing to the price inflation that keeps most Brazilians out of the celebration. And the party was incredible: We arrived at 8:00 pm, my friends left at around 12:30 because of headaches, and I...well, I stayed until 6:00 am. I was lucky to be sitting next to this girl who had a lot of energy, and she lent some of it to me. I learned all of the songs (it’s inevitable when you hear the same one over and over again for 80 minutes), I danced around. I was so tired by the time the fourth school came along, but they were so impressive that my energy came back (and they won!)...the last two are a blur. As I left the Sambódromo with the crowds, I saw people from the surrounding neighborhood literally 50 ft. from the building, watching the show on TV. Now, that is a great example of unfairness.

Free

Not Free

Finally, to finish it all off, as I left a party at Pedra do Sal the other night around 1:30, I was waiting along Rio Branco for my bus and suddenly...big, colorful floats were rolling my way. Floats from all of the losing schools, heading home I guess. Pushed by barefoot, shirtless men, with no sparkely muscular women or pounding bateria. Just the floats and the men, rolling down Rio Branco. They smiled and waved, I did too. It was one of my favorite parades ever!

The bloco

Bangalafumenga

Yet again, I cannot say that I really know what was happening during these two weeks. In Trinidad, I was lucky to be learning about Carnival with an academic eye while I participated. But I’ve realized that what I learned in Trinidad is not applicable elsewhere. For example, I didn't meet any fascinating carnaval characters to make deductions about conquest and colonialism here. Black face? Check. White face? Yup, that too. Gender bending and overt sexuality, for sure! But I didn't see much method, just a ridiculous amount of madness. And madness is what Carnaval is all about, right? I can infer, deduct, study as much as I want, but that just prevents me from understanding what Carnaval is really about: "freeing up", as they say in Trinidad.

Rio’s carnaval is known for it’s commercialism. “Traditional” is not the word I've heard to describe the revelry here. “Party” is more like it. The costumes ranged from boring “Boa Director” Tango hats advertising Antartica beer, to blue tulle skirts, to tiny little pastel hats (Peruvian Quechua style), and, of course, men wearing dresses. Lots of oversized plastic sunglasses, chicken/penguin/beer hats and Amy Winehouses. And I wore a lion hat made out of foam, but some guy took it and now I have his "Jewish" hat, which is pretty nice but I would rather my lion.

The Sargento Pimenta Bloco

Where does one wear these costumes? Blocos, neighborhood parties revolving around a theme and live music, spring up all over the city at all hours. There are blocos that begin at 8:00 am, and others that start at 12:00 am. There are blocos on the beach and blocos in the favelas. There are Bob Marley Blocos and Paulino da Viola blocos. There are blocos for children and...blocos that some people bring their children to, even though the heat and drunken crowds make this seem inadvisable. All blocos have beer. “Mini-blocos” are the small parades that pass through the streets in a moment. The popular or traditional blocos, like the Beatles-themed Sargento Pimenta bloco, attract millions of partiers and stay put. This is the side of Carnaval that I saw the most of (you can't avoid it, everywhere you go there's a bloco!), and I will sum it up simply: a big party. Remember that scene in Black Orpheus where people dance and sing by Orpheus as he plays his guitar? I guess that’s where blocos came from, but the ones I went to have a dramatically different (BIGGER) feel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KznlNRyjUg&feature=related

The most important lessons I learned: #1 Blocos are only fun with a lot of friends: new or old, doesn't matter. #2 Being a third wheel/woman guarantees that a lot of strange men will try to kiss you. #3 Don't wear your Havainas, that's just stupid. #4 If you drink beer, you're going to have to pee. Plan accordingly. #5 People are going to try to rob you. Don't do stupid things like wear your purse unguarded in back (This I learned from experience!)

NOT a Bloco: Pedra do Sal, a bi-weekly Roda de Samba. My preference.

E tudo se acabar na quarta feira...really?

Fancy Sailor in Trinidad. This was my first Carnival!

Yesterday, I was walking through Praça Edmundo Bitencourt, a quiet park near where I live. Small dogs greeted each others behinds, neighbors lounged on the benches and octogenarians flung their limbs about on the green exercise machines that the city has set up in every park. I love Copacabana for its energetic octogenarians. Beyond the tweeting of birds and the yapping of those ugly white/yellow/pink dogs that old people always have, a thumping caught my ear. As I neared Rua Figueiredo Magalhães, the thumping clarified into a samba school’s endreo, the song they made to illustrate this year’s presentation.

“A minha Ilha e ouro é prata,

Tem o bronze da mulata,

Canta meu Rio em verso e prosa,

Com a cidade ainda mais maravilhosa.”

I couldn't find any pictures of Carnival in Baton Rouge. This will have to do.

A poetic reference to the upcoming Olympic games...Quickly I was engulfed by the bloco: the urgency of the thumping bateria, the joyfulness of the people dancing and singing along with the loudspeaker. I stood to the side and smiled as they passed, but didn’t even have to resist an urge to jump in. It’s the Saturday after Ash Wednesday. I’m a little tired of Carnaval! When does this party end?

The Infamous Negrita Puloys in Barranquilla! This picture was practically the advertisement for Aliarse, it was so prolific.

Please don’t shake your head and say, “Oh, Eliza, what’s happened to you? Are you getting to old for Carnaval?” No! According to my wonderful neighbors, no one is too old for Carnaval! As I pressed against the wall and passively enjoyed the passing excitement, a grey haired couple sprung hand-in-hand out of their apartment’s gate, skipping and singing along. Two weeks ago, at my first bloco, I jumped in with untapped energy, too. And that was two weeks ago. Every other Carnaval I’ve ever been to has ended with uncharacteristic punctuality on Ash Wednesday. I was pacing myself with that information in mind. But where others stop, the Cariocas keep going. Last night, on the Metro to Lapa for a concert, I spotted a man waiting on the opposite platform. He sat there, alone in his platic seat with an enourmous shiny collar on, his only company a 3 foot tall feathered headress sitting next to him. I think his carnaval was over. In Lapa, fireworks and blocos and unending energy. But finally, on the omnibus home, I saw a homeless person sleeping on a statue. Keeping watch was another beplummed headress. It was a quite and poetic image for me to end this experiece with. Now it’s Sunday. I think it’s over, and I'm not going outside 'till I know for sure! Haha just kidding. I’m going to describe the two main Carnaval activities I participated in in two separate entries because this is getting too long!

What am I doing?? I'll just wear some glitter and try to blend in!

A Rio Passes through my Life...Again!

Finally, I'm able to wake up again. I don't know if it was the 3 hour jet lag, the birds twittering on the green hill by my window, or too much beer, but for the first week here, leaving sleep every "morning" felt like coming out of a coma! I like to experience the pace of morning and gain momentum throughout the day with the rest of the world. 11:00 is too late.

I've had my coffee and fruit, and I'm waiting to call my mother to wish her a Happy Birthday. (Quick adorable English learner memory: my students in Colombia thought that the word for cumpleaños was "happy birthday," as in "When is your happy birthday, teacher?"). What better time to tell you where I am?

Rio de Janeiro. When I was a child, I used to buy these color-in posters at Sandy & Sons. The pictures were jungle scenes, with hundreds of tiny little leaves and flowers. I loved coloring each leaf with two shades of green, each petal on the flower a different pink. I enjoy meticulous details. This city is full of detail. From the carefully tiled streets, to the squiggly style of graffiti, to the beautifully arranged women, to the houses tumbling down the hills and the leaves in the forests on the morros. There is so much sound, so many people, so much culture and diversity and beauty and horridness. The wealth and the poverty, the mountains and the ocean. So much to feel.

I've actually been in a funk these first few weeks. Can you believe it? I don't think that this is entirely a bad thing. It's moved me to reflection, and I'm glad to reflect at this point, a starting point, where moving forward is the only direction.