domingo, fevereiro 18, 2007

My first year of Carnaval I was 7 months pregnant, so I didn't get to do much. My second year, I was breast feeding, so I didn't do much either. This year I finally went out and did the pipoca thing, and then went to a camarote (which we got for free). We went to Farol da Barra, which only after we returned did my husband inform me is one of the most "dangerous" places to go in the pipoca, walking from shopping Barra all the way there.

My first impression was how bad it smelled. There was the highly potent smell of xixi everywhere, along with sweat, B.O., and garbage smells, and the over powering exhaust from the Trios which gave me a headache all of yesterday. We parked illegally outside of Shopping Barra, where the guarda carro simpley moved the SETE cone down the street a few feet to make room for our car, insisting that if there was no cone, there was no problem (this only works in Brasil). He then insisted on being paid R$10 for the service of moving the cone. We gave him R$5 with the understanding that if "SETE gets us, we will find you."

On the way to the main circut, we walked down a back road where some guy had set up a large speaker and microphone, and whilst painting a large picture to illustrate his points with blacklight paint, was lecturing about Jesus and savoirs and the family love and who knows what else. I was mostly amused by the use of the black light and paint. There were also numerous churrascos going on - who knows what that meat is....

Out on the main circut, we walked through the crowds, dancing as the blocos came by. I don't have cheap tennis shoes, so I just wore some strap on sandals and right off the back my toe was wounded from a passing sharp object which might have been a shoe or might have been a beer can, we'll never know. It would have been worth it to buy some new tennies just to cover my feet to keep all the nastyness of the street from being splattered on my poor feet (the sandals are still in the slop sink next to the washer and will remain there until I can soak them in disinfectant).
We had quite a walk ahead of us, through the masses of sweaty smelly people. There were numerous fights (people start them in the crowds to take your guard down so they can rob you) but we some how managed to not get caught in them (but just barely). I quickly learned to deal with the "ickeyness" when squished up against fellow partiers because of a passing bloco or a fight. Somewhere along the way, a couple with the same camarote shirts found us and asked us if they could walk with us to not be alone on the way to the building, which I thought was kind of paranoid and funny (until after when O Maridão mentioned that he had not gone to the Farol in many years because of the danger factor), but we quickly lost them during one of the fights.

On the way down, we passed several blocos without trios, mostly for men it seems. One was called "the towels" and all the members (men) wore pink towels and shower caps. Another was called "the pajamas" where all the members (all men, again) wore white and blue striped pajamas and night caps, some carrying teddy bears, and allowing only women who they seemed to think were attractive inside their ropes with them. It was quite amuzing to see.

We were on the hunt for Gilberto Gil's bloco (Expresso 2222 or something like that), where we were to try to find one of our friends who said she would be following it. Within the madness, we accidently found a different group of our friends, a collegue from my husband's work, and the uncle of his namordada from when he was 15, all following 2222. We walked with them for a while, but I was starting to get sick from being so close to the exhaust pipe, and everytime the truck would stop, the crowd kept moving forward and we would always end up right next to it, burning my legs and feet. My ears were really starting to hurt from being so close to the speakers when we finally decided to go up into the camarote (Camarote Oceania) which was right across from the light house.

The camarote was much more controlled. There was a live band with Marcos... de dois>? Can't quite remember his name. And some woman that we didn't know the name of but who reminded me a bit of Lauren Hill, mostly a rock/rap kind of genra. Apparently this was the camarote of the rich, all drinks and everything included, and there was body painting, hair braiding, Haagen Das Ice cream (!!!), champagne... Also, I swear I was the shortest one there. Rich people are tall here, I have noticed this at school too - all the woman are much much taller than me, so much that I almost feel like I'm back in the States. Decendents of immigrants, so I have been told. We drank red bull and whiskey (vire fan!) and watched the blocos for only a little while. Because of all the lights, there was a huge population of gigantic moths (like bigger than my hand) on the outside of the building, and they kept comming inside and flying around over the band. After the band finished, there was some typical rap music which slowly turned into techno (have you noticed this always happens at parties - people are so drunk by that time they don't even listen to the music anymore, just the beat and keep going and going like energizer bunnies). By the time we left to walk back to the car, there were only a couple hundred left in the streets, some people cleaning up trash, and a random vendor or two trying to sell their last couple of geladas for the evening.

One interesting thing I noted was that in the midst of all that mess and all those people from all over the city, we found one of the women who hangs out on the corner near our house (right near where I was robbed) collecting cans. She is the mother of Diva, who I have mentioned before I believe. She told us Diva was out there somewhere, running around with her friends. Small world. No matter where you go in this city, you always see familiar people. Only in Bahia...

To see the view of where we were, check out this link. To choose another view of the circut, click here.

Um comentário:

A.L.R. disse...

Great write up Mrs. Salvador. I can't believe you went out in sandals!!! I had to burn and throw away my shoes after carneval, with no hope of really cleaning up the scum.

Two days into Carneval, I was done. How do they do it?