Carnaval!! Part 2

Day 2

After staying out so late the night previously, we had quite the slow wakeup. We mobilized by about 4 pm, and actually got to Barra around 5, where we had a delicious meal at Habibs, a fastfood restaurant with a Brazillian twist. We thought about buying a bloco shirt, but they were asking on the order of two hundred to 300 reales (100 to 200 dollars) which struck us as fairly expensive, especially under a college student budget. After some street food we watched a beautiful sunset over the water

Again, the people watching is what you come to look for and expect in Carnaval. And day 2 did not disappoint. There was this one man in a skin tight, very small female swim suit, and it was evident that this was relatively a new costume for him, as he had a strong short short tanline going. The crowd was people watching as well. Multiple times, there would be a gaggle of people gathering, taking pictures of some person in the camarote. One woman in particular was giving people a heart sign and dancing, and everyone was reciprocating....except us. We could tell that these were famous people, but who, well, I am not versed in Brazilian pop culture. One other amusing thing was that there were people trying to get in the camarote from the ground. Considering that they had to surmount a 14 ft wall, it was rather impressive. One man was boosting another, and I imagine the people sitting in the camarote were somewhat surprised to see a face popping up in front of theirs.

Fairly obsessive about knowing what time it is, I glanced down and checked my pocket, and sadly enough, there was no watch to be had. I suppose it helps me get in the moment, but still, it was a shame to lose the watch to the mass of Carnaval.

After composing a dinner of streetfood yet again, feeling the feet yet again, we called it a night around 2 and took a late night taxi.

late night taxi again, feet again

Day 3

For the third day, we decided to go for a bit of a change of pace. There are two main circuits for Carnaval, the circuit for Barra, and the circuit for Campo Grande. Thus far, we had only been going to Barra, and were up for a change of pace. Plus, there was a girl from our program named Leah that we wanted to meet up with.

so we found a bus to Campo Grande. It was apparent immediately that this was a sketchier neighborhood, just based on the dilapidated buildings. The bus carried us along a windy road, through a tunnel, and we emerged in campo grande. With our hands clasping our wallets securely, we made our way through a large crowd. I felt a little bit more out of place here, because I was the only white face (with the exception of our group) in a sea of black faces.

We were trying to meet up with Natalie, but had no real idea where her hotel was. We asked the military police to point us in the correct direction, and with only a couple of overshots, found ourself in a dark alley under an overpass. We were on the right street, but the numbering system was really weird.  48 , 26 , 7 , 4 , 236. We were lucky, because we were looking for 236, but that kind of numbering system has the potential to get one lost really quickly. We actually were only 5 minutes late, so Leah was still there, and enthusiastically greeted us and showed us into her hotel.

People watching today: there were lots of men with water guns, and they would squirt their waterguns (sounds dirty) at the women that they fancied. There were lots of men in drag again, and this time, some of them had wigs, so you couldn't really be sure if you were looking at the back of a woman or a man. Some of the men in drag were actually doing what I call the booty volcano, basically shaking their ass up and down in a way that I thought only women could.

One old man, in sultan garb, liked our group, and gave me one of those never ending handshakes, one of those handshakes where you are like, ok already, you can let go. I got a ring of white beads out of the bargain, so it worked out all right in the end.

Rather than one main stretch, as was the case with Barra, instead there were multiple different streets converging to Campo Grande, which basically meant people converging from every different direction. I would say that it was more mobile, and you could really pursue whichever bloco you wanted to. Some of the blocos featured people in very traditional african looking clothing and coordinated dancers. Some of the blocos had professional dancers on top, which created a show to sit and watch. As we were moving between blocos, a drag man attached himself to Leah, and while really nice,  wouldn't leave her for the whole night. He was very protective of her and the group, leading us away when there was the potential for danger.

There was more potential for danger in the Campo Grande carnaval than Barra. Between street fights erupting, one man getting kicked while down (I got the impression that he had stolen something) military police raining down blows, and incessant pickpocketing, Campo Grande was certainly more gritty. It also felt real, authentic, genuine. Especially when a man crashed into me, and while apologizing, a sly young kid tried to reach into my pocket. Fortunately for me, I have a traveler's wallet, so I didn't have to worry on that account

This was probably my favorite night of carnaval in terms of dancing. For some reason, (maybe because they play a slightly different type of music in Campo Grande) the music clicked with me. I danced hard and long on the third day, so hard that I even drew a bit of a crowd. We had a dance circle going, with everyone in it from an old granny to the drag man to me. I think people were congratulating me at the end, but I couldn't really tell because they were speaking portuguese. I understood the thumbs up though, and that was good enough for me. I have no idea whether I was doing real samba or not, but I was doing my best imitation, and had fun while doing it.

Of course, eventually, nature calls. I had to go pee, and finding a place in the midst of carnaval is pretty difficult sometimes. Andres and I eventually found the public porto-potties, but these things were filthy. The ground was covered in 'water' and I held my breath, but soon I was out, eating yet more street food.

The night, while great, was soon over, and we walked Leah back to her hotel.

Day 4
I have to say, Day 3 was probably the best day for me. Day 4 was a series of trying to meet up with people and failing. For the beginning of the day, we were waiting around for Ray, another kid from our program that was supposed to arrive via plane early that day. In short, he didn't. We waited around until about 5 pm when he messaged us to say he wouldn't make it that day; his flight had been delayed. 

And we set off on the bus. We were trying to meet up with Leah, and when we got bloco t shirts, decided to buy her an extra one. We failed in meeting her too. After waiting about 50 minutes in the appointed place, we moved on (sadly, she came 60 minutes in, to the secondary meeting place). Specific blocos are difficult in the sense that you need to be actually with the right one, rather than dancing next to a random one. Our bloco was long ahead of us, so we virtually sprinted along the side streets to catch up. We danced with the bloco for a while, and then nature called yet again. I had to go pee, and bad, so I told the group to remain in the bloco, and set off to find another porto-pottie. I found one rather quickly, but finding the group was another matter. I spent the next hour scanning the crowd, weaving back and forth looking for Natalie and Andres. The reason I looked so hard was mostly because they had the keys, and I don't feel like being locked out of the apartment all night.

Just as I was about to give up, I found Andres and shortly after I found Natalie. We danced in the crowd, and there were these flamboyantly gay men clad in green who were organizing a big group of people. They showed us set dances, and even started virtual mosh pits, holding everyone back, and then organizing a charge. Definitely a fun part of the night! Our bloco eventually ended, and we kept joining other blocos after that. We were dancing at the end as one of the blocos concluded. And somehow (not really sure how this came about, a lot of gay men started making out. I am fine with this, that is until one of them grabbed my ass. I shook my head, yet he proceeded to do it twice more with a very suggestive wink. I squirmed into the crowd to escape, and soon after Natalie and I (we had lost Andres by that point, he rejoined us later) called it a night, the end of the last night of Carnaval.

                                 These are my shoes post Carnaval....I bought them new the day I left for South America