Every boy needs a good scar. Right? Boys get banged up. Well, little kids in general get banged up (I know, I am a teacher).
Yesterday we spontaneously decided to walk around Carnaval. No, Carnaval is not the cause of the scar. We had gone to all the trouble of going to Porto da Barra to go to the beach, and since all the Trios were leaving from there shortly after we had decided to leave, we walked up to the Farol to see what was going on. It was early and not too crowded and we met some Aussies that were hanging out the front of a pousada. Ju liked the experience but wasn't fond of the noise and asked to go home, so we headed back to the car.
We decided to stop for Acarajé on the way home in Rio Vermelho. For anyone who knows Brasil, you will be familiar with the side walks made of pieces of rock to form patterns. While waiting for the Acarajé, Ju stood up on one of the benches and fell off head first onto the sidewalk, getting a big gash across his forehead and scaring the living shit out of everyone there. The beer guy gave us some ice and the Bahaina tried to give us advice, and Ju was screaming his lungs out with blood pouring out of his head.
We sped off looking for first aid station (there are several up because of Carnaval) but didn't find one that was open, so we went to the hospital by our house. Their emergency room was open, but they don't attend children, so off we went again (with a quick side trip to the house where we picked up my insurance card since we didn't have Ju's yet) and ended up at Aliança Hospital, which is easily the nicest one here. We went strait to the pediatric emergency door, where we were told that they didn't have any doctors on duty that night (why does this place exist and stay open???). We ran across the complex to the regular emergency area in a completely different building where there were doctors. By this time Ju had stopped crying and almost stopped bleeding and was kind of just passively wondering what all the fuss was about and asking for his Acarajé.
In the emergency room he got five stitches (by the father of one of my former students, although I only found this out at the end) and was very well behaved. Another mom from my school who's son is in group 2 came in to see what was going on and I chatted with her a bit too. (Not sure if this was good or bad for my career as a rich kids' teacher, but whatever) All said and done and Ju was fine and still asking for his Acarajé and Gustavo decided to go make a formal complaint to the "pediatric emergency room" that had no doctors, after which we went back out to the Acarajé place to get Ju what he wanted and to let them all know he was okay. There was a kid there about his age dancing to some kind of DVD performance of some artist of some kind who told Ju he should not dance because he had gone to the doctor and had a boo boo. It was pretty cute.
Today he is totally normal, except that we can't let him get his head wet for another day or so, so he still smells like blood and iodine. We told him he's going to have a Harry Potter scar now (he doesn't know what Harry Potter is really, except that mommy has books about him that have lots of pages he can turn and pretend to read), and he seems to think it's not such a big deal. In fact, on some level I'm sure he's enjoying it because of all the extra attention he's getting, having ice cream for dessert after lunch, and getting to watch Bob the Builder and play and make lots of messes. I still won't let him eat candy though.
Mostrando postagens com marcador carnaval. Mostrar todas as postagens
Mostrando postagens com marcador carnaval. Mostrar todas as postagens
Sexta-feira, Fevereiro 01, 2008
Quarta-feira, Janeiro 30, 2008
It's that time again - live cams for Carnaval are almost active. You can watch the countdown and check out the circuit maps, get info on the location of the blocos, and fantasize about the biggest street party of its kind. You know you wish you were here.
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.
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.
Sexta-feira, Fevereiro 16, 2007
boon = balloon (I think this was my word for it too when I was little).
Carnaval has officially begun here Bahia. Actually, it officially begins on Wednesday, and the insanity of traffic around the city has shown it. If one tries to pass by AeroClub, you have to contend with "unofficial" abadá sellers, who are rumoured to steal back the black market shirts they just sold you as you walk back to your car or home or bus stop as the case may be. There a long lines of people selling beer along the Orla where there was no beer before. There are confettie, streamers, and carnaval masks litering the ground and decorating homes and stores. And there is the rain. The ever present rain, which according to the forecast, will be here all the way through the week long insanity, soaking everything, turning the confettie into paper-machê muck all over, mixed with xixi and god knows what else. Not that I was going to go out in it before, but I certainly don't plan to now. Some year I will really experience Carnaval, but it seems this year is out.
Carnaval has officially begun here Bahia. Actually, it officially begins on Wednesday, and the insanity of traffic around the city has shown it. If one tries to pass by AeroClub, you have to contend with "unofficial" abadá sellers, who are rumoured to steal back the black market shirts they just sold you as you walk back to your car or home or bus stop as the case may be. There a long lines of people selling beer along the Orla where there was no beer before. There are confettie, streamers, and carnaval masks litering the ground and decorating homes and stores. And there is the rain. The ever present rain, which according to the forecast, will be here all the way through the week long insanity, soaking everything, turning the confettie into paper-machê muck all over, mixed with xixi and god knows what else. Not that I was going to go out in it before, but I certainly don't plan to now. Some year I will really experience Carnaval, but it seems this year is out.
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