Carnaval and the generosity of Brazilians

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  Salvador, State of Bahia, Brazil
Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Dispatch from Buenos Aires, Paddy's day 2009
will try to get Claire to attache photos to this later, that's her department. I'm lying up cos I've a slightly injured leg so I'm going to try to catch up here.
So we left Trancoso, Bruno and Carol heading further north towards carnaval with the names and sometimes numbers of their friends, relatives and relatives friends. We had nothing booked and the prices of available accommodation during carnaval are almost irish.
Gamboa
Gamboa is a village on an island off Salvador. On one side of the island is the tourist town of Morro. As we got off the boat after a long journey I won't get into everyone seemed sure we were in the wrong place and told us Morro is over there or you this is Gamboa, we said we knew so and walked on to main street

Gamboa

. This was our first sight of carnaval it was about 8 in the morning and the bars were full of people who were having a very alcoholic breakfast or a very late nightcap. Now this was a small town and all we had was the name Grasola written on a piece of paper, this might sound ridiculous but I don't think Bruno was all that bothered because he was going back to work in the bagel factory on Baggot street. So after a few indecipherable comments from locals including the words gringo and negro we asked to old guys for casa Grasola and sure enough they led us straight there. The town has two streets of sand.
Grasola turned out to be the friend of the mother of a friend and she didn't seem to know anything about us. All the same she let us into her house and bid us wait for Catherine. This was an awkward wait since Grasola turned out to be the most disconcertingly languorous woman ever. She would slowly sashay from one window to another smoke a cigarette out of it and look impossibly bored. All this time, it seemed like an hour, we weren't sure what was going on. Every effort of small talk was met with the most jaded monosyllabic response. But eventually Catherine arrived all smiles, we got a room in the back and got ready to see what carnaval would be like in this fishing village where we were the only white people.
it turned out that Grasola was a former philosophy teacher who now stayed at home to look after her blind mother, she didn't get any more talkative but the house was cool and there was plenty of entertainment

NiceOutfit

.
Carnaval turned out to be one stage an unreasonably tall trailer covered in speakers with a band on the top that was pulled by a tractor up and down main street. I t was fantastic. The people were great and the food and drink was cheap. The music wasn't great, kind of pop samba but the atmosphere was brilliant. This continued through out carnaval, when you walk through a city like salvador which is almost entirely african in population and you look like me you feel like a walking lighthouse, heads turn and sometimes people stare right into your face like you're an exhibit. But during carnaval with all the clowns costumes freaks and beautiful girls no one gives a shit. Maybe they thought I was wearing a crazy outfit.
The music here was accompanied by an ass grinding dance that is quite indecent. The band had women from the crowd on stage that looked like they could break down walls with them asses. Weirdly girls about as young as six were doing this dance all over, it looked like everyone was in intense training for a gansta rap video. We gave it our best. Later in the night we met an old guy who was either crazy or drunk after a difficult conversation we realised he was asking if we like Gamboa, we said we did. He then asked if we like him, we said we did. He started to cry hug me and kiss me in no particular order. His face was stubbly
Salvador
We continued with Catherine to Salvador. Here Carnaval is a big deal and said to be the best by some. We stayed in their appartment which they wouldn't let us leave, for fear we wouldn't come back in one piece.
Here I might comment on what the carnaval seems to be about. It is the celebration and continuation of mutated African religions that survived and were reborn in Brazil

Bahiana

. They continue to mutate and evolve in carnaval blocos or clubs, just think of the floats in Rio. The main actual religion is candomble which like carnaval itself is a Brazilian, mainly Bahian, hybrid of traditions. Each bloco or club creates it's own traditions including musical style, instruments, costumes and symbols. This gives it a real living creativity and in the crowd anything goes as a carnaval costume. The biggest club in Salvador was called the Sisters of Gandhi, it was maybe a hundred years in existence and had a particularly cultish aspect. The music was aggressive samba, the kind I really don't like with no direction or theme one leading drummer and a big load of banging followers. The crowds were considerable and most of the time you had no choice as to the direction you wished to go in, that was decided by the passing blocos and narrow streets. A big woman came up to me at one point and gifted me this huge African looking outfit. Maybe I won the prize in her mind for the most bewildered and foreign looking bloke in Salvador.
Recife
Recife similarly to Salvador is a big city with an old colonial centre where the main carnaval takes place. It was a bit less commercial and the music wasn't as intense. Here we stayed in the luxurious appartment of Renata a friend of Beth, Bills Mam.
Olinda
One of the best places so far. We arrived in Olinda in the middle of a crazy bloco at about two in the afternoon. It's a beautiful colourful old town and with all our bags on our backs we walked right into the middle of a parade and it seemed that absolutely everyone in town was well drunk and laughing at the two eejits lost in the middle with big rucksacks. We arrived at our destination casa Nubia, Beth's sister, sweaty and impressed

Bloco

.
Nubia's house and Carnaval
Nubia lives with here partner Sula, they're in their early fifties I suppose, in a two hundred year old house in Olinda which is the most welcoming place I've ever been.We were let in by a Dutch girl who was staying there and met ten or eleven friends passing through while we were there. We were given a lovely airy room and fed delicious food with strong herbs, we more or less learned to speak Portuguese and we could have stayed as long as we liked. And all this in the centre of the town where carnival passed by and sometimes stopped to say hello at the door.
The groups here were made of say three instrumentalists, these varied, a small group of drummers, dancing actors in pagan costume and a standard bearer who held the name and origin of the group. A lot of these came from rural towns in the interior. Some of the styles were called Mangue, Maracatu, Frevo, Brega, Forro and Rabecado. My favourite was one with a kind of sandlewood fiddle, accordian and drums. And it was wild, everyone was dressed up in the most imaginative home made stuff. Nubia sent us out on to the streets with her friend Alex who was dressed like a panto horse, he explained some traditions and also introduced me to pau de india.
Pau de India
This is a drink made from Cachasa and herbs. I tried some of Alex's and it was delicious. He warned me that it was strong but being Irish I ignored that. Basically it was just like drinking straight booze but didn't taste like it. It was great you can really get in at Carnaval in Olinda. You can talk to the musicians dance in the parades and you couldn't possibly offend anyone, the cops are dancing too. Apparently that night I spoke really good portuguese and said that Olinda was my favourite place ever

NewSon

. I don't remember it all but I did remember thinking that pau de india meant indian bread. It transpired the next morning when I finally arose and spoke to Bruno on the phone that it means Idians dick. It had already gone the rounds how much I loved Indian's dick and how much Indian's dick I had in me the night before.
Cavacinho
The cavacinho is a tiny steel stringed instrument tuned to a chord. I said I liked them and was interested in buying one. Nubia heard this and being the kind of person she is and obviously a lover of a bit of music round the house, she rang all the music shops in Recife until she found a handmade one in a little shop. I didn't know she was doing this. She drove us there and I could't believe the place. I'd have bought one of everything if I could've. So now I have a traveling companion, he fits in my bag and sounds great. Nubia was so great she said we could live and eat in her deadly house if we taught her English. Once again we left promising to return.

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