I know it has been a while since I last posted, due mostly to the inebriated state I found myself and friends in while participating in the much-renowned party of the year - Carnaval.
I left Costa Rica and flew overnight through Miami, arriving in Rio around 8am. Rio is an intimidating city at first glance. I think I crapped myself twice in the taxi from the airport to Santa Teresa, where I was booked in to stay for the week. The cabbies, or any driver for that matter, are all nuts. This is coming from the guy who falls into the category of a classic Montreal driver. I got to my guesthouse around 9am and was greeted by a less than friendly host named Clara. Clara was insulted that I came to Brazil and did not speak portuguese. Spanish will get you nowhere in Brazil - even though the language seems very close. I was pissed off, so I called around last-minute to find some hostels in other parts of the city. As you can imagine, the prices are through the roof for that particular week because of the carnaval. Rio took my budget for a nice stroll over the bridge and then just threw her right off the bridge!
Money aside, I just had the best week of my life. I would be doing Carnaval an insult by even trying to describe this party to you. I mean, 5am is an early night. Ipanema is the hostel/beach district where I stayed and met several other travellers. My first night, I met two Dutch fellows and two English fellows. We decided to go for dinner at this place called Carretao (I can`t seem to find the accents on this keyboard, but there is a wave over the `o`). It is an all-you-can-eat buffet where you fill your plate with the obvious usual fixings. Then, the waiters come around the restaurant with huge masses of beef, chicken, pork, sausage, lamb, all spiced and rotisseried, slicing them off onto your plate. 2 beers included $30CAD, not too bad.
I spent the next day just chilling out on the beach as I was still kind of tired from the flight. We met this English bloke, Jay, who now has a wife in Brazil. He runs tours in the city. Everything from football games to Favella (Shanty towns) tours and brothel tours - No, I did not participate in the latter. He took us to the Favella around the Ipanema point, called Cochina. We were taken up the hill on motorbikes (no helmet of course as this is the Favellas) where we met some local guys just drinking and puffing near our starting point. It is sort of an anomoly. The guys had visible guns on them, but at the same time, they were the nicest people and really appreciated us being there and chilling with them. Our walk took us through the Favella, where Betto, Jay`s local friend, would explain different things about the city. Betto is also the postman in the Favella. Since there are no fixed addresses in the Favellas - nor are many babies accounted for in the population simply because of the way these neighbourhoods have evolved - Betto knows everyone in his district by first name and delivers their mail based on their family name, which gives him the approximate location of the destined receiver. After the Favella, we met Jay`s Columbian friend, Charlito. He ended up coming out with us to endulge in the festivities of the first night of Carnaval, 2010.
Friday night came and Carnaval was officially on! We (myself and about 20 others from the hostel) decided to take in the Lappa Blocos. Lappa is another neighbourhood in Rio and Blocos means means block party. There were 1 million people in the streets that night, all dancing and singing and partying. Our crew sort of split up, as often happens, and we ended up claiming a nice grassy part of the park where we had a big pow-wow. We walked around the streets for a bit and then 5 of decided to head back to the hostel and to the beach in search of sunrise. Watching a sunrise after a night of partying, listening to chill tunes with new friends was a definite highlight along my trek so far.
So, Saturday comes along. Time to re-hydrate and carb-up for what seems to be another another oncoming shit show. We didn`t think the night was going anywhere when all of a sudden we hear in the distance some music thumping. We head to the beach, following the musc like a bunch of zombies after Woody Harrelson (sorry, I just watched Zombieland) and found a huge beach rave taking place right on Ipanema beach. So, we spent the night on the beach partying. Don`t mind all the gay boys kissing and playing with each other. Rio is a very welcoming city for gays and lesbians, especially during Carnaval. Be prepared to see shit you have never or may never see again, because you will see all kinds of everything.
Sunday... I think, we went to the Sambodrome. Samba music and dance in Brazil is absolutely huge. It is their hockey you could say. Becoming a good Samba dancer is a way out of poverty for many young children living in the Favellas. The Sambodrome Sunday night parade is the main event. People work on their costumes, floats and dances, all year long for a chance to show them off and hopefully get recognized by the judges for their efforts. All Samba schools however, do get some funding simply for participating in the event, which is a good geture and ensures that less fortunate people can enjoyt the national passtime like all the rest. We did not go into the Sambodrome as the ticket prices were astronomical. We just did what the locals did and spent our time in the `free area` just checking out the costumes and floats just as they entered the grand stage. After the parade, people just throw their costumes down. It`s amazing, they just throw them down like a bag of rubbish - garbage, sorry, for the North Americans reading. So, we proceeded to do our part for the environment and clean up a bit. We all took costumes and paraded around town for a while with them. I was contemplating mailing mine home, but allas, no dice.
Monday and Tuesday were relatively quiet nights. Remember what a quiet nght means in Rio. Only a dozen drinks and in bed by 5. Wednesday, Jack and I had tickets to the Rio state footbal semi-finals between Flamenco (you may recognize that name as they are the rich club in Rio) and Botafogo, the working class team - my team. I had to be careful about cheering when Botafogo scored an upset win as the fans around me would have certainly not let me leave with all my limbs. One guy was so pissed, he ripped out the seat in front of him, a seat that is bolted to cement. I felt like I was part of a roman phalynx before the game. These people sing, wave, and drum their way into the stadium and do not stop until the game is over. If they win, they keep going long into the night. Another early night got us in bed by 3 and then up at 7 to get the bus to Paraty, a small fishing village 4 hours south of Rio along the coast. Paraty was a nice place to go and chill out on the beach for a couple days. We met up with Rich and Jules, two other Brits we met in Rio. We got detoxed in Paraty before heading to Sao Paulo.
ps. This post may seem a little point-form in some spots, only because there was so much to tell.
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