Carnaval

Carnaval is the same celebration as Mardi Gras in the US. It started around last Thursday/Friday and ends tonight. Much of the city shuts down. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and then it’s 40 days of holiness up to Easter.

Friday, I braved the Vampire City for the first time at night. Dani and I went to some outdoor eatery in the shadow of the famous Museu de Arte de Sao Paulo. It was lovely, safe and teeming. About as dangerous as being at an Olive Garden.

There we met a pair of her friends and took the train a few stops over to Rua Augusta. I don’t want to start with too many New Orleans/São Paulo comparisons because these cities are worlds apart, but if there’s a Bourbon Street of Sampa, it’s Rua Augusta.

We walked a block from the Metro and waded into a swamp of young people socializing in the street. Vendors pushed their way through the mix selling beers, water and cocktails. Several of them set up grills right there on the pavement.

The street was not closed.

As traffic tried to circumvent this growing mass (within inches), the crowd started moving. There was one “float,” if you will—a big truck with people atop playing very, very loud music. A guy with a microphone led the crowd in singing. The truck turned onto Augusta and the parade was on. Dani and I joined in, dancing past drivers who had just missed their window to get home.

The next day, Dani went wedding dress shopping. She left me with my new friends Marina and Adriana (side note: I have no schedule anymore. I know basically no one here. Every morning I just wake up and ask Dani what plans we have.).

The girls and I metro-ed over to a neighborhood called Vila Madalena. A couple blocks from the station we met a similar—albeit much larger—street party. They began moving. Again, no real rhyme or reason with the traffic. Like a rising flood, we circled around cars until they were engulfed. Drivers eventually abandoned them where they stood and joined the party. Dani arrived a few hours later.

Carnaval feels like a dream. The coming Autumn is in the air. Temperatures in the 70s. The crowd is boisterous and full of love. Random strangers trade a few words and then make out with a passion I don’t think I’ve ever seen. About half the crowd is in some sort of Halloween costume. No theme, only: be crazy. Lots of people watching from balconies and windows. Lots of bathrooms being invented in abandoned lots.

The sky broke around 9 o’clock that night and the streets split for cover (there’s about one 20-minute storm here every evening). Dani and I walked a mile through the downpour to the Metro. Ten minutes later we were home.

The city that I was afraid of is warming up to me. Carnaval gave me a much-needed shot in the arm of love. I expected to see drunkenness and belligerence like I’ve come to expect from big blowouts in the US. The Brazilian crowd, though, never felt out of hand. Even in the chaotic crawl of thousands, everyone seemed above all other words, happy.

Photos:

 

 

In Vila Madalena.

 

 

If there's one downside to Carnaval, it's people spraying this soapy stuff all over you and your drink.

 

 

I guarantee you these two do not know each other.

 

 

Adriana e me.

 

 

Marina e me.

 

 

 

 

The view from above.