I’m in the two million plus beach city Fortaleza to the north of Brazil. I’m basking in 29 degrees of sunshine, tapping away on my laptop, wearing my speedos, drinking a refreshing glass of iced Guarana and watching bronzed people dipping into and relaxing by the pool. It’s now day three of the winter carnival. The first two days have been unforgettable. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. And both my partners, hounds and masters in anarchy and hedonisms: Chief and Maddog, agree, the Brazilians know how to party in a way that none of us have ever dreamed of before in Ireland, and, in a way we all agree would be hard to match anywhere in the world. We’ve all done our fair share of travelling over the years, but none of us can remember having such a non-stop, rollercoaster, run of fun like we’ve had these last few days. And the beauty of it all is there is more to come! Nossa!
I’m sure you’ve heard how the old saying goes: sometimes words are simply not enough to explain the true meaning or feeling of a place or experience. Sometimes words allow you sketch or charcoal an image or concept. But that’s it. There often circumscribed. Sometimes you need more than letters and numbers to paint a true picture. You need other tools. You need more senses, more mediums; more methods. You need different brushes, inks and papers. This is such a time. This is the carnival. You have to see the colours, smell and taste the food, you have to let the music shoot into your ears and reverberate through and envelope your heart and soul, you have to shake your booty like you’re a big giant African Momma, you got to jump as high as you can clapping, shouting and roaring with the people to your front, back, left and right. You have to take on the persona of the Brazilians on their home turf doing their world famous home thing. You have to come to Brazil. No video, no DVD, no TV program, no book, no blog can come close to describing how much fun it is. You got to haul your ass down here and shake it if you want to know what the carnival is all about.
This is how the last two days have panned out. Oh yeah, before I go on let me explain one fundamental thing about the carnival. The carnival can be the one they have in Rio were you see flamboyant floats with dancing, smiling people on top dressed in bright, exotic over the top costumes. Or in some cases not dressed at all except for a few bits of string and the odd pin here and there. This is more of a pageant then a carnival. Bit like Paddy’s day. You don’t really take part, its more a spectator spectacle. Then you have the other type of carnival which is: get it there, get dirty, sweaty, take a major part in carnival. This type of carnival is the Salvador type carnival where the majority of the music played is by the famous musicians of Salvador. I prefer the interactive, hands on, ears in, hips gyrating approach.
Carnival takes place on the streets. In this case a 4km strip of road parallel to a beach front. Stands are erected on the side of the street and tall hotels and apartment blocks full of colourful people line the streets and fill the air. To get access to the main areas of the carnival we had to pay 50 euros per day. For that you get a sleeveless pink, yellow or orange t-shirt, depending on what day you want to attend. To start everybody meets on a street and stands just behind a large open double decker bus. Then hundreds of stewards get a rope and squadron off the immediate street area beside the bus. Leaving only the curb areas free for those who have not paid for their t-shirt. At about 9pm, or 9.30 the band kick off and the mayhem begins. In our case we went for the famous Chicolete com Banana band. The U2 of Samba. I already saw them once before and once again they didn’t let me down. Their instruments threw sparks into the smiles, hips and feet of the people and lit the place on fire. Everyone loves these guys. If you can get your hands on one of their CDs, do so. I plan on bringing home at least three or four of their albums before I leave Brazil. Anyway, so there you are, behind the bus. There are thousands of people wearing ridiculous t-shirts, everyone is wearing shorts, drinking beer, whiskey or vodka, and non stop, dancing, bouncing and kissing.
The kissing ethic is worth a note. Basically, anything goes in between the ropes. What you have is a load of people out for a good time. You simply have to dance beside a person, try make eye contact, grab a hip, cheekily pinch a bum, stroke a hand or throw a kiss, and that’s it. You know pretty quickly if you are going to get a red card or a green card. Chief on the first night chalked up 45 red cards and 5 green cards. Maddog 23 red cards and 3 green cards. The vagabond, well, let’s just say that the vagabond, like a gentleman, never gives away his antics. That said, Eusebius chalked up 4 reds and a green; Brutos got 68 reds and 3 greens. And that was only the first night. When we all got the swing of it the following night was even more chaotic.
The carnival is like the tour de France. You`ve had one tough day climbing the Pyrenees and need a well earned rest when the alarm clock goes off at 2pm in the evening and you have to get yourself ready again for the physical onslaught. Quick wash, few hours’ sun, a few coconuts and a speedy plate of grub and off again. It’s only day two and Chief is begging for a lip transplant, Jim has a dodgy ankle and my legs could do with a good massage. We have to keep reminding ourselves that we have trained for this type of thing long into the night in the pubs of Dublin, Waterford and abroad for over 15 years and we have to plough on no matter what the physical or emotion consequences. By the end of tomorrow I can see us sleeping a full day to catch up.
Last night we went to the carnival with some two foot tall Irish hats and my camcorder. We got a very warm reception. Chief kept saying that we were conducting a documentary for a local TV channel in Ireland and that he needed a kiss on the camera to show the people back home how Brazilian women kiss. Amazingly it worked. It’s amazing when you a put a camera in some peoples faces what they’ll do. Jim had a different approach, 50 press ups and 10 chins ups on the beach on the way to the carnival, to inflate his biceps, a few stretches of the legs and hips to get ready for the dancing, and loads of “Hey, hey….how are you, one kiss please”. Amazingly it worked. The dogs had a different approach. Eusebius just danced slowly and methodically and waited for the odd Brazilian dog to throw him a glance. He did alright out of it. And surprisingly was very confident with himself when the opportunities arose. Eusebius was like a gattlin gun, anything that moved in his range, he tried to shoot. Considering the amount of red cards and nasty looks he got, it was amazing his ego wasn’t deflated. Paradoxically, he seemed to thrive on it.
I hear some of you out there already ask about quality. To describe this I don`t have to write too much. The simple fact of the matter is that Brazilian women are beautiful as a rule of thumb. They really know how to look after themselves. No pint drinking or major food binges. More like buckets of dancing, exercising and sun bathing. The quality was high with the odd lapse here and there.
Unfortunately, I can’t produce any photos for you as I lost my camera in Rio and in the process of trying to retrieve it. However there is a few snaps up on the blog from some of my recent antics in Sao Paulo with the boys.
Gotta run. blessings to all.
