Carnaval

As expected, Carnaval was absurd. The sheer amount of people partying, beers consumed, feathers adorned and fun had was staggering. I don’t know the exact statistics, but I feel that ‘rather a lot’ is an accurate estimation with regard to all of the above. Such is the number of people and blocos (street parties) that everyone’s Carnaval experience is different. Here is a rough guide to mine.

Day One

Location: Santa Teresa

Costume: Colourful clothing and guitar-shaped sunglasses with a Brazilian colour scheme.

Life Lesson: Don’t wear your favourite clothes. They will get wet.

This was an early morning start. People were hammered by 8 30, as vast crowds packed the narrow streets in Santa Teresa. The costumes were remarkable. There were some timeless classics: Mario & Luigi, Jesus, cross-dressers; some more original ideas: The Sims, a Tinder ‘Match’ (for those unfamiliar with ‘Tinder’ http://www.marieclaire.co.uk/blogs/543941/tinder-the-online-dating-app-that-everyone-s-talking-about.html); and the genuinely inexplicable: a man with a 6 foot long wooden club and these fine chaps.

Full marks to miss Silicon Valley on the left. 

Needless to say, I felt phenomenally underdressed and made a concerted effort to change this for the following days. Santa Teresa’s streets were so busy that it was impossible to leave, meaning that a 3-hour samba session in blistering heat was the only option. I can’t say I complained too much, especially as onlookers sprayed water from hoses in their front garden to keep us poor carnaval-goers cool.

Day Two

Location: Lapa

Costume: Bog standard t-shirt and shorts (nightwear).

Life Lesson: Flip flops are not a good idea.

After a day spent in the office covering the League Cup Final and Madrid Derby among others, I needed to let off some steam in the evening. The services of Lapa were required: cheap caipirinhas from street sellers and wandering around the busy streets, again to the tune of the ever-present samba drumming. The two downsides were the smell, which was fairly repulsive, and a muddy residue that had gathered on the ground, causing my feet to squelch uncomfortably.

Day Three

Location: Gloria

Costume: Red vest, silver wings, feather headdress, ample amounts of sun cream.

Life Lesson: Wearing large wings makes walking through crowds an immense struggle.

Wings and feathers are a perfect combination.

The “Bloco de Sargento Pimenta” (Sargeant Pepper), was, as you may have guessed, Beatles themed. I’m told that 100,000 people were in attendance and it was pretty spectacular. Live samba covers of Beatles tunes and an infectious atmosphere were the orders of the day. Yellow Submarine was particularly enjoyable, as was spending the day dancing and drinking under a hot sun.

Day Four

Location: Ipanema

Costume: Brazil dress, green wig.

Life Lesson: Go to the toilet when you can, even if you don’t need to.

This was my favourite day. After some free caipirinhas and a barbecue at the hostel of the inimitable Harry van Manen, a group of us headed to Ipanema to join in the festivities. With the sun still out, we headed to the beach and I watched the sunset in the water, along with some smashing people. It was an unforgettable moment. Many complimented my attire as I struttes my stuff during the parade. Happily, we found ourselves right in the thick of the action as people danced their way down the streets.

I think I make quite a good girl...

Days Five-Seven

Location: Various

Costume: Various

Life Lesson: There is always something going on.

Carnaval technically finished on Wednesday, but has reignited for the weekend. I had three days of ‘rest’, during which time I had a lovely dinner in Lagoa (amazing views) under the watchful eye of Christ the Redeemer, beers on Copacabana beach and another night out in Lapa. You could say I was easing myself out of it all…

Day Eight

Location: Leme

Costume: Buzz Lightyear Mask

Life Lesson: Carnaval doesn’t stop for rain.

I got absolutely drenched. You would have thought that I had been for a dip in the nearby sea, given the state of my clothes. Early on, I gave up on trying to avoid the rain and embraced the whole situation. It seems the Brazilians will party whatever the weather.

Day Nine

Location: Ipanema

Costume: Undecided

Life Lesson: Only time will tell.

Today is the last day. I know not what is in store, but the one thing I can be sure of is that it will be a good laugh. The Brazilians know what they’re doing…

The boys. 

A Gringo's Life

In Brazil, I stick out like a sore thumb. I don’t mean literally, although after a fierce haircut and a few minutes on the beach without sun cream, you would be hard pushed to find a human more befitting that description. The problem is that everything from my appearance down to my language is an immediate giveaway that I am, as the locals say, a gringo. And so, naturally, I have set myself a challenge: to become as Brazilian as possible.

1. Appearance

Getting tanned is the first, compulsory step. My white, burnt skin is a shining beacon from afar that tells people I do not come from these parts. The obvious solution to this problem is to spend some quality time on the beach in the next six months, something that I am perfectly happy to do. Rather more problematic are my clothes. My attempts at being fashionable saw me buy a couple of pairs of shorts, which come to just above the knee. Apparently, this is gringo giveaway number two. The longer short is more fashionable among cariocas. I may have to grin and bear the extra heat of more fabric if I am to succeed in my bid to fit in.

2. Beach Behaviour

Beach behaviour is a crucial part of one’s quest to lose the gringo tag. Locals laugh at those foreigners who ‘bring their house to the beach’. That is to say, they come equipped with enough equipment and supplies to last them a good few days and spend about half an hour spreading their belongings out on the sand. Fortunately, I have devised a strategy to get around the typical gringo problems. Firstly, apply the strong base layer of sun cream at home, so as to avoid embarrassing yourself later. Secondly, take as little as possible with you to the beach. Thirdly, buy a beer and blend in. Part of that blending in applies to your beachwear. Perhaps in protest against a ban on topless sunbathing in Brazil, the women seem to wear as little fabric as is possible. The popular thong bikini really does leave very little to the imagination. But if it’s sheer bravado you’re looking for, my award goes to Brazil’s men. These exemplars of masculinity parade up and down the beach in remarkably tight-fitting numbers, which offer far more than a suggestion of what’s going on underneath. I’m sorry to be so graphic, but this is simply how it is. You may now understand my predicament: to become a carioca, I must embrace the speedo. I, too, must arrogantly prowl the shores of the Atlantic, exposing my upper thighs to the power of the sun for the first time in over 21 years.

The Sunset from Arpoador Roack (3 mins from my flat)

3. Language

English is another killer. It is the global language, particularly the tourist’s language and most locals know enough to recognise it. It would be naïve of me to expect my Portuguese to become flawless, but I shall do my best to fool people. What I have done to avoid speaking English is to pretend I am Russian, which is always good fun. I pretend not to understand, forcing people to speak in Portuguese. Fortunately, as other language students will confirm, the expression of a lack of comprehension is one with which we are all painfully familiar.

This list barely scratches the surface. Of course, I must get to know Rio like the back of my hand and not be so in awe of what it has to offer. Yesterday’s hard lesson of finding myself in the middle of a street party with a rented, bright-orange bicycle, struggling to wend my way through the crowds is a demonstration of my current shortcomings. There are no prizes for coming second. You can’t be nearly carioca. You’re either gringo or you’re not, and I’ve got an awfully long way to go…

Ipanema Beach at Sunset (2 mins from my flat)