soundtrack #1 - Vitoria to Guriri coach journey

roads - portishead

how insensitive - stan getz and luiz bonfa

brown skin - india arie

take the box - amy winehouse

the blues come over me - b b king

lady day and John coltrane - gil scott heron

I belong to you - lenny kravitz

nothing brings me down - emiliana torrini

keep rolling - paolo nutini

avarandado - joao gilberto

could I be the one - al green

sanctus - jan garbek

download the songs so you can musically join me on my journey!

salvador carnival day two - samba blocco

the blocco on Friday night is in Campo Grande and, we are told, will be much more traditional in its samba. 

we all meet at a hostel that one of the boys is staying in, have drinks and take photos on the balcony.  it overlooks a small harbour and has a beautiful starscape. 

we change into our abadas here at the hostel, not wanting to risk having them stolen.  for the short walk to the hostel, I have tucked mine into the waistband of my shorts, covered by my vest top, creating what can only be described as a muffin top look.  when I meet my two official carnival chaperones at the end of my road, as normal, they have a different approach.  they have stashed their t-shirts into their short pockets and instead of the hassle of "where they will leave their spare t-shirt for the night" (as I am worrying about), they just go without, and are walking along the street topless.  I hasten to add that they are both boys...

on the way to Campo Grande we see all the other bloccos on the circuit getting into position.  the one in front of ours is a drum band.  they wear fuscia pink costumes and hats, reminiscent somewhat of China...  the drums are amazing, and the band has some simple moves that are so effective.  just turning to the left and the right in unison in time with the music.  a pink wave undulating to the rhythm.

as I approach our blocco I am tapped on the shoulder by a friend who tells me that someone is trying to get my attention.  when I turn around I see that there are two women, in candomble costume, both of which are albino.  when I turn to them I see their faces drop a little, I think they are disappointed to see that I am not an albino, I just have very pale skin and blonde hair.

our blocco is lead by women in traditional candomble costume.  the skirts are huge!  how they intend to dance for six hours in them I don't know.

we eventually get moving and the energy is high.  amazingly this does not seem to ebb away.  even at four am when I am ready to go home.  converse all stars were not made for this, so how is that woman surviving in four inch wedges???

everyone is so friendly in the blocco.  Jailson keeps the beers flowing, even passes around a plastic water bottle that contains anything but water.  but it helps to keep us dancing and energetic.  at one point Jailson throws down a hat in front of me, I can see that it is some kind of challenge, like a gauntlet.  but I have not quite figured out what I should do yet.  so he shows me, I am to samba around the hat.  it's a bit of a dance off I guess...  don't worry, I didn't let any of you down...

the candomble women dance in front of the blocco.  they make circles and take it in turns to dance in the middle.  with their big smiles and wide spinning skirts, they remind me of young girls at a party who are unaccustomed to the movement of their posh frocks.  spinning them around, looking down to see the patterns they can make with such ease.  the women are so friendly, they invite me to dance and teach me some steps.  this is hard for me, as I cannot see their footwork under their huge skirts!

the mood does shift a little as we enter "downtown" Campo Grande.  this is the point at which I feel it necessary for us to get back within the safety of the rope and behind our human shield.  it's not long before we can see something brewing in the pipoca.

all I can see is the end of a scuffle then a great surge of people running towards it.  and almost as quickly as it has started it scatters again, knocking our ropes men and women as they go to avoid the very strong arm of the law. 

the police here do not hold back.  there is a fear that the people have of them.  do whatever they tell you to do and do not get in their way, as they will not stop to consider whether they should use violence.

at this point I am ready to go home.  so keeping close to the police and walking quickly up to the old town of Pelhourinho to try to find a taxi. 

it's not long before I am in bed thinking about the night's adventures before I zonk out, aware of the nine am class that awaits me in the morning.

[candomble sketch courtesy of soberanayemanja.blogspot.com]

bikram shmikram..!

...try a one hour Bahian samba lesson in Salvador at midday in a non air-conditioned room, with just overhead fans and an open door to "cool you down"!

our teacher is a very stern, yet camp looking Brazilian with no English.  he is serious about samba and starts by explaining the theory of samba to us in great detail, well I think that's what he was saying...

this he followed with an intense and very professional warm up, before starting the music, cranking up the volume and suddenly beaming from ear to ear as he jumps, he jiggles, girates and grinds, he twists, he turns, bounces and bops.  all the while wearing the biggest and most infectious smile I have ever seen!

we followed as best we could, but slowly, one by one we dropped out.  we can't keep up with his energy and the heat is like nothing we have ever experienced.

but nonetheless I love it and can't wait to use this at carnival...

salvador carnival day one - masked blocco

the first night we ease ourselves in.  we head to the lighthouse to watch the carnival.  it's still relatively quiet, but is expected to get much busier by the weekend, this means that we get a good vantage point.  it becomes our look out point for the week.  the barra carnival parade starts here, but it's not until you walk around the corner a bit and look down the coastal road that you truly realise the size of this party.

the wide road is packed full of people, giant inflatable balloons emblazoned with advertising bop along with the crowd and music blares from the floats.

over the course of the next few days we will watch Timbalada, Ivete Sangalo, Parangole, Tomate, even Will I Am and David Guetta amongst others, from here.

tonight we are going to join the blocco mascarada, a free blocco with just one requirement.  wear a mask.  so we have bought our feathered face covers and are set for the party.

of course I didn't really know what to expect and what I was letting myself in for.  we had been told to meet at ten thirty, but of course this is Brazil and that means that the party didn't start until twelve.  this was going to be my first experience of carnival, an initiation if you will...

we get behind the rope and the energy is rising in anticipation for what is to come.  and we're off, the blocco starts to progress forwards, and the mood is high.  but as we get further around the parade route, in fact just around the corner, the crowd gets even more excited.  and rather than the overly polite progress one might expect in England, in this blocco the crowd starts to surge forward.

at times it feels a little like being in a mosh pit, albeit with much better music.  that being said I have never been in a mosh pit, but if it means people jumping all over you and you getting thrown around against your will, then this blocco slipped in and out of this.  all the while it continued to play the contagious beats that kept your spirits up.

there were moments when I was being crushed, but my legs couldn't keep up with my body.  there were other legs in the way, and I worried that I would topple right over and get crushed.  on several occasions we lost our friends, desperately trying to hold onto each others hands and not lose sight of each other.  we were even crushed up against the rear blocco rope as they tried to keep it moving, clear of the next truck fast approaching behind us.

I've got to be honest, this wasn't the most relaxing and enjoyable experiences of my life, but I came out alive and well to tell the tale!  so I'm pleased I experienced it.

my photography apology

you will notice over the course of my carnival blogs, that I have very few pictures of carnival.  unfortunatley it was not very easy or safe to take cameras out to carnival.  if you did take one, it had to be stowed somewhere out of sight and safe.  for me this meant stashing it in my bra...  not the easiest and most comfortable, so I did not take it with me most nights.

I also realise now looking back at the photos that I have taken, that I was clearly having far too much fun experiencing carnival to be fussing about taking photos.  so I apologise for the limited imagery, I will make up for it later...

first things first...

I need to buy my ticket for the camarote for Saturday night.  it's easy enough to buy the ticket, just a short walk to the local shopping centre.  the harder thing is to collect the abada.

the school has already provided the necessary t-shirt for the blocco on Friday so now the priority is Saturday.

we head to the big shopping mall out of town and join the longest queue I have seen in a long time.  it snakes around reminding me of a theme park, the only things missing are the "45 min waiting time from here" signs and a water flume...

we end up in what looks like a disused car park, all very well organised, where we can collect our abadas.  I pull my ticket from its safe place in my bra and when I collect the t-shirt, stash it straight into my bag.  we have been told that it is common for these t-shirts to be stolen from you as soon as you leave the mall.  even from your back on your way to the camarote.  and after spending $R200 there's no way that's going to happen.

we pile into the first cab we see, desperate to avoid any robbery, sadly though it is a Fiat uno.  the five of us squeeze in, not prepared to wait for the next and risk our yellow vests.  anything to protect our hidden treasure.  shame that the journey is twenty minutes, plus traffic going back into Salvador, probably half an hour, and that the uno doesn't have air con and that my leg is slowly going to sleep...

anyway, we've made it, and it seems like it will all be worth it.  we are set and ready for carnival.

useful carnival glossary

BLOCCO - party following a parade float, fenced in and protected by, what is essentially a lot of men and women holding a very long piece of rope.

CAMAROTE - exclusive lounge, with VIP areas, with mildly overpriced drinks and good views from above of the bloccos passing by.  what is basically the rich watching the poor go past.

ABADA - t-shirt worn as an entrance ticket into the blocco or camiroce.  these are colour coded by blocco/camiroce and by the day.  you will not get in without one and is undoubtedly the most expensive t-shirt you will ever buy, so you have to protect it well.

PIPOCA - literally means popcorn.  this describes the crowd in general at carnival, and how it looks from the air with everyone jumping around like popcorn popping!  but also is used to describe the non-t-shirt wearing crown who are just along for the free ride.

PIRIGUETE - small can of beer, stubby if you will.  also means slag.

RESSACA - hangover...

I got to thinking...

in Brazil the coming of lent is marked by a week long party.  dressing up, samba dancing, loud music and laughter.

in England the coming of lent is marked by pancake day...

[sketch courtesy of Jo Edwards in my leaving card, I think it's pretty accurate]

the night before the week to come...

I was told that the night before carnival officially starts is the most important night of the week...

the streets are alive with people.  we're pushing our way through the crowds, navigating the narrow streets, avoiding the temptation to stop at that packed bar at the corner playing samba beats, or to stop and dance with that group of people over there playing dums, or to stop and listen to that animated conversation.

the salsa bar that we have been recommended sounds amazing from the street.  upstairs the music spills out of the open windows and down to us as we pay to get in.

it's small and heaving with people dancing salsa to what I suddenly realise is a live band, with a full horn section no less!

my friends from Portuguese school get the drinks in whilst I hit the dancefloor for the first time that night.  salsa has never been this good and as cheesy as it sounds, its never been this real.

the room is dark, the air is moist and the only relief from the heat that the dancing creates is on the tiny balcony on the second floor.  the air outside is still, but despite the lack of a breeze the tiny space soon becomes the second most popular place to be.  people fight for space, jostling around for a square inch to claim as their own. 

on the balcony the currency is conversation, fast and animated.  on the dancefloor the currency is dance, passionate and intense.

I flit between the dancefloor and the balcony all night.  high on the energy, dancing and conversations.  I find some amazing dance partners, and even chat to the charismatic bar owner.

I am disappointed when the music finally stops and I realise that I am one of the few left on the dancefloor.  it's time to find a cab and go home. 

may the carnival begin...

[picture courtesy of my going away card from Jo Headland]

so far I am now fluent in...

Portuguese:
"is this the bus for...?"
"I'm not Brazilian, no, I am English"
"no not American"
"I am visiting a friend in Belo Horizonte"
"one caipirinha/beer please"
"I do not speak Portuguese/understand"
"yes I really like Brazil"
"no, I am not German"

sign language:
"can you tell me when to get off the bus for..."
"that one"
"can you say that slower please?"
"can you please repeat that?"

Salvador, before...

as with any great friendship, twenty four hours was clearly enough to get us started.  so Adela and her three boys packed me off to the airport for me to make my pilgrimage to Salvador.

I was met at the airport by the smiliest man in the world.  Jailson was also Salvdor's biggest samba fan.  it didn't take long before he was eagerly teaching me some carnival moves.  my favourite being a little bit like the macarena, but infinitely more classy and fun.  (incidentally did you know that there was a website dedicated to the macarena?  http://macarena.com/). 

once he had dropped me at my accommodation, I went for a little wander around my neighbourhood (not before following my host sister's instructions and removing all of my jewellery...) and settled myself into a relaxing first night in boiling hot Salvador.

the following morning I was up early and heading out to my first day at school in ten years.  one of my fellow students was even kind enough to point out that I started university last century...  so that helped to make me feel youthful!

the other students were a mixed crowd, but all very friendly and good fun.  so we soon started to organise what to do with our afternoon's off and evenings before and during carnival.

first things first, we headed to the beach.  having been on holiday for three days already, I felt it was about time that I lay down on Brazilian sand.  the beach was crowded, extremely crowded, but the atmosphere was amazing, really lively and friendly.  at sunset everyone actually started to applaud and cheer.  it really was magical.

I had five days of Portugese lessons booked in total, and three of which before carnival officially started.  so it was time to get my head down, and, well, basically spend the next three days planning carnival and lying some more on the beach...

platforms, petrol and prayers...

it's been over two weeks since the balls of my feet have had any real exercise.  so last night I relished the opportunity to dress up.  albeit not the opportunity I had necessarily planned for when I packed my figure hugging dress and LK Bennett snakeskin four-inchers.  but nonetheless I dressed up ready for church.

as Junior backed up the car I tried to snap (not very successfully) the wonderful night time view from the end of their drive.

it was a few minutes before I fully comprehended what it was that Adela was saying to me.  but as I stood in the rain critiquing my photography skills, I realised that yes, Junior had in fact run out of petrol and yes, Adela and I needed to push the car...

so teetering on our heels, with our handbags slung over our shoulders, the girls pushed the car as the bus waited patiently (of course nothing actually happened until Junior got out and helped...)

Junior coasted the car downhill, with Adela and I tottering alongside it trying to jump into the moving vehicle.  once we were onboard, the freefall continued for what felt like a kilometre before we dared start the engine to take us up the steep hill to the petrol station.  I'm pleased that it at least entertained her two small boys.

I think we looked pretty classy (if not a little like drowned rats by the time we got to church) and I think we pulled off the platforms and car pushing quite successfully...

generosity and graffiti in Belo Horizonte

via rio, I finally arrived in belo horizonte.  I was greeted with familiar smiles and cute faces.  one of my favourite things in the world is the way that a real friendship just falls straight back into place as if no time has passed.  adela and I hadn't seen each other for over a year, but it felt as if she had been at mine the previous weekend gossiping over a cup of tea and biscuits.

so what's the first thing we do when we get back to hers?  she puts the kettle on (which in actual fact is a saucepan on the stove) and I unpack the health care package that my mama has provided...  four boxes of chocolate fingers, one terry's chocolate orange, one box of ferrero rocher, four cadbury's creme eggs and one massive box of maltesers.  the gossip starts and packets of biscuits are opened.  needless to say when I returned to Belo Horizonte two weeks later, the chocolates were no more...

my brazilian graffiti obsession starts in Belo Horizonte.  I managed to snap a few whilst we were driving past.  my favourite is the baby face with the missing eye...  a little freaky, but so cool. 

brazil is like a free modern art gallery wherever you go.  and to think that just 3 weeks ago I was pondering the South Croydon "banksy"...

and so it begins...

this was written on my second day in Brazil, first day in Salvador.  this was over 2 weeks ago now.  I will start to tell my stories and to upload some images of my experiences so far.  inevitably I will probably jump around a bit to start with, but the important thing to note at this point, is that so far, I am having a really good time...