Either way, eventually, we all call it quits.
We also have to decide when to start.
On paper, Carnaval is only like a two-day event. Everything in the city shuts down Monday and Tuesday. Naturally, most everyone lumps in the weekend prior, adding two more days of fun. The day before that (Friday) is also easy to tack on. At that point, you're only looking at a four-day work week, so you might as well just write those off as well.
The truth is, Carnaval parties start about 10 days in advance of Fat Tuesday.
The classic image of Carnaval in Brazil is the tall, feathered, brightly-colored parade woman whose exposed skin shimmers with glitter and whose fast feet move in perfect synchronization with her nineteen identical twins. These kind of parades happen, but you have to go looking for them. Most take place in stadiums and the tickets cost top dollar. A friend of mine went this year and had a blast before eventually leaving the show early at 6 am.
The real Carnaval is a series of parties in bars, beaches, houses and, in São Paulo especially, blocos. A bloco is a street party that amasses in a set location around a huge truck with musicians on top. When they start playing, the party slowly moves through the streets. Drinks and food are sold by vendors that push their carts along beside you. About half the crowd wears random costumes. Bathrooms are TBD.
I think most bloco routes are planned, but the entire thing feels spontaneous. The roads aren't always closed off and traffic just has to deal with it. Drivers slow to a stop and many of them (if the party is big enough) just abandon their cars and join in. Some blocos are in the hundreds. Others probably hit about 10,000 people.
Bloco coming through.
Our Carnaval got started Friday when my Japanese friend Hideki arrived. I first met Hideki in Tokyo on March 11, 2011. Less than an hour after that, we endured the infamous 9.0 earthquake together. We've been close ever since.
Hideki is a musician and a talented one at that. For the last three years, he's shunned the idea of leading a normal life in exchange for a once-in-a-lifetime world tour. Every week, he arrives in a new city, performs on street corners for tips, stays a couple nights, then moves on. We saw him a month ago when we were in Chile.
Brazil is country number 78 on his journey. After a few weeks touring here, he's headed to Africa for three months.
Japan's own, Hideki Sakomizu.
Hideki hasn't seen his homeland in a while, so we took him immediately to Liberdade--São Paulo's Japanese neighborhood. He set his gear up on a busy street corner and within one song, already had a decent crowd nodding along and handing over their Reais.
His songs are breezy, fun and beautiful. It's amazing how much a city around you can change with the right music playing. Dani and I were going to stay for a song or two and then head back home. We ended up watching him for an hour.
Let's hear from the man himself:
Follow Hideki's travels on his blog:
Friday night, we took our Japanese friend to his first bloco. It wasn't the best of times. We arrived on Rua Augusta late to the party, which meant we needed to hurry down the street to catch up. The farther down Augusta you walk, however, the sketchier it gets. And we were going pretty far.
When we finally caught up with the fun, some of the characters around us worried me. Carnaval is famous for being a place where strangers come together and kiss. This happens within seconds (as opposed to the usual minutes) and often requires no verbal exchange between the participants. Two folks come together, make out passionately for 10 seconds, part ways and find someone else. No exaggeration.
The cold and flu rate here has to shoot through the roof later this week.
It's all harmless fun, but on some of the guy's faces around me, darker forces were at work. At Carnaval, they are ready to consume--they expect to consume--and the women are there for no other purpose.
Friday night on Augusta, if I wasn't physically touching Daniela, the wolves were at the door. It's not enough to stand beside each other, their eyes saw a lonely female and their hands wanted to know what that hair felt like.
After a quick look around the scene, we got out of there without incident. Like everyone eventually does, I was almost ready to say, "That's enough," and call it quits on Carnaval. But luckily, the rest of the weekend went off without a hitch sans, of course, some mornings that came in much brighter and earlier than expected.
It was a real joy to have Hideki around. He would sing during the day and hang out with us in the evening. He brought the house down at a karaoke bar with "Let It Be." He closed his eyes in joy as we introduced him to plate after plate of authentic Brazilian food. It was sad to see him off Monday evening to his bus bound for Rio.
But the show must go on.
We rebounded on the bloco front, too. We found a good afternoon one that strolled across Avenida Paulista down into the Bela Vista neighborhood. The crowd was friendly, the music loud, the drinks cheap and the kisses looked very consensual. The rain couldn't stop the drum line from marching on. Passion was born between lips and then quickly abandoned for another.
Like every other day of the year, if you're in the right place with the right people, Brazil is the best time in the world.
And by Wednesday morning, when the shops reopened and the music finally stopped, I had certainly had my fill of Carnaval. This year, it was just the right amount.
The quintessential bloco video clip. Music, dancing, fun and I even inadvertently captured the insta-kiss. Get your timer out.
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