the aviary and zoo at santa teresa
Friday, 29 April 2011
email to my mama...
dear mama
on thursday I planned to go out to this pretty little village called santa teresa about 2 hours inland from here in Vitoria, it's an old italian settlement, just up my street. the guide book promised hummingbirds so I was off! but I waited almost an hour for my bus to take me to the coach station and by the time I got there the next bus wasn't until 11:40 so it just didn't make sense to go. the universe telling me it wasn't time. I was a little disappointed, but I went to the beach instead with Junior and the boys, which was lovely.
yesterday, I tried again, and oh my god, was it worth it!?! such a beautiful little town. it has a lovely park with an aviary, where I saw parrots, one of which ACTUALLY SPOKE! I guess you just don't believe that until you really hear it. I saw snakes and monkeys and toucans (which were much smaller than I imagined). and just as I was heading to the turtles on my way to the hummingbird observation point, a hummingbird darted out infront of me and started eating from the flowers just by my side. I got so emotional, and said out loud "oh there you are" and literally had tears in my eyes and throat. it was so amazing.
when I got up to the viewing point I couldn't believe it. they had a few bottles hanging up with what must have been some kind of sugar water inside and tens of hummingbirds hovering around and buzzing around my head drinking from the bottles. I stood there for about half an hour to take it all in. in portuguese they are called Flower Kissers (i think it might be the same in italian), so cute!
miss you.
buzi laura xxx
Thursday, 28 April 2011
the gringo girl with attitude...
I arrive at Vitoria bus station and find the taxi rank. picture the scene, a small bus station, my coach pulled in briefly and has already left, not another one to be seen, but yet ten taxi drivers, sitting around having a natter...
so I give the group of gossiping men my friend's address and the one they describe as the "fat one", drives me. her road looks lovely, very safe and homely. but knowing that I have some time to kill before they catch up with me on the road from Belo Horizonte, I ask "the fate one" to take me to a pizzeria, somewhere near the beach would be nice, I tell him.
I am very much enjoying my stilted conversation with my waiter, my guarana and my dictionary and am just tucking into my pizza when, bizaarly I hear my name. I turn around and see a smiling woman with relief in her eyes, her two young daughters behind her.
I soon realise that this is Adela's sister in law. she kindly went to the bus station to collect me, when I wasn't there, she panicked and asked the taxi drivers if they had seen a girl with short blonde hair?
the taxi drives, realising they could help said "you mean the gringo girl with attitude?".
I am told that his translates in a positive way in Portuguese, at least I hope so...
so I give the group of gossiping men my friend's address and the one they describe as the "fat one", drives me. her road looks lovely, very safe and homely. but knowing that I have some time to kill before they catch up with me on the road from Belo Horizonte, I ask "the fate one" to take me to a pizzeria, somewhere near the beach would be nice, I tell him.
I am very much enjoying my stilted conversation with my waiter, my guarana and my dictionary and am just tucking into my pizza when, bizaarly I hear my name. I turn around and see a smiling woman with relief in her eyes, her two young daughters behind her.
I soon realise that this is Adela's sister in law. she kindly went to the bus station to collect me, when I wasn't there, she panicked and asked the taxi drivers if they had seen a girl with short blonde hair?
the taxi drives, realising they could help said "you mean the gringo girl with attitude?".
I am told that his translates in a positive way in Portuguese, at least I hope so...
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
train whistle blowing...
I was up at the crack of dawn and headed for the train station. it sounded like it would be such a romantic journey. a forteen and a half hour train ride across the Brazilian countryside to the coast, one of the few train lines in Brazil.
the last of the boxes had been packed and I was to meet adela and the family in Vitoria. the car wasn't quite big enough for the two boys, me and the doblerman. the dog took priority.
I needed to be there early to buy my ticket and to not miss the only train of the day (of every day) at 7:30 am.
the sun was shining down on the never ending queue of people wanting to buy tickets and I patiently and excitedly joined the back. how very English of me!
the queue seemed to be moving quite fast although only two of the four counters were open. something I couldn't quite get my head around as the station is only essentially open for 2 hours a day.
so it came as a bit of a surprise when I witnessed the conflicting messages in front of me. the ticket office was still issuing tickets, as the guards pulled the wrought iron gates closed and chained and padlocked them shut, whilst the train pulled away into the distance.
I felt particularly bad for the old couple who immediately after buying their tickets had to rejoin the queue to get a refund.
so much for my romantic Chanel No.5 train journey dream, with me as Audrey Tautou. but hey, this air conditioned coach could work too...
the last of the boxes had been packed and I was to meet adela and the family in Vitoria. the car wasn't quite big enough for the two boys, me and the doblerman. the dog took priority.
I needed to be there early to buy my ticket and to not miss the only train of the day (of every day) at 7:30 am.
the sun was shining down on the never ending queue of people wanting to buy tickets and I patiently and excitedly joined the back. how very English of me!
the queue seemed to be moving quite fast although only two of the four counters were open. something I couldn't quite get my head around as the station is only essentially open for 2 hours a day.
so it came as a bit of a surprise when I witnessed the conflicting messages in front of me. the ticket office was still issuing tickets, as the guards pulled the wrought iron gates closed and chained and padlocked them shut, whilst the train pulled away into the distance.
I felt particularly bad for the old couple who immediately after buying their tickets had to rejoin the queue to get a refund.
so much for my romantic Chanel No.5 train journey dream, with me as Audrey Tautou. but hey, this air conditioned coach could work too...
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
quite a little adventure...
adela was pleased with my packing efforts so granted me a day off.
I headed out to see some of Oscar Niemayer's architecture. of the architecture I had seen so far, I really liked what he does. the guy is one hundred and two years old and still designing!
so I jump on the bus and head out in my best sight seeing gear. cute white skirt, vest top, black havaianas and bug eye sunglasses of course.
the bus takes a regional route, snaking its way through the streets of the nearby towns. as we climb further up the hills of Belo the rain starts to fall, and fall it really does.
he drops me at the church on the lake, which I think is stunning. the roof curves beautifully over the church mirroring the water line of the lake.
oh and did I mention that I had run out of credit on my classy pay as you go mobile? otherwise I could have just phoned junior for a lift I guess... but I also didn't want to be beaten.
the museum staff tell me that there are no buses nearby and I would need to walk a little bit down the road.
I should mention that the brazilians have no sense of distance. I guess because their country is so big, but they will always say, oh it is just down the road...
the bus stop turned out to be about a forty five minute walk. fortunately the rain had stopped so the skirt wasn't going to become see-through. all I wanted to do at this point was jump in a cab, but remember that I only have twenty five reales left in my purse at this point and I was about another forty five minutes from home...
eventually I found a bus stop on a very busy highway and tried to make myself understood when I explained where I was going.
I have to say that I love the brazilians, they will go out of their way to help you. I was told when to get off, then I was walked to the bus stop some four blocks away by a very sweet young man, was left with some more helpful and friendly brazilians who made sure I got on the right bus, then again explaining where I was going, was helped off the bus again, and walked to the right road by a lovely lady.
I eventually made it home just as the sun was setting over Belo Horizonte. I was very proud of myself for making it home on my own, without having to put junior out and ask for a lift, and without getting stuck in the outskirts of a city I did not know without a penny to my name.
I headed out to see some of Oscar Niemayer's architecture. of the architecture I had seen so far, I really liked what he does. the guy is one hundred and two years old and still designing!
so I jump on the bus and head out in my best sight seeing gear. cute white skirt, vest top, black havaianas and bug eye sunglasses of course. the bus takes a regional route, snaking its way through the streets of the nearby towns. as we climb further up the hills of Belo the rain starts to fall, and fall it really does.
I have managed to befriend the bus driver and conductor. and they suggest that I wait at the end of the line with them as they prepare the bus for their next journey. by then the rain would have passed, or so they say. but in actual fact the rain falls heavier than ever, and vaste rivers have formed on either side of the carriageway.
the bus driver and conductor switch with the next shift, who I also manage to befriend, in my desperate bid to stay dry and not see through! they tell me that they will drive me to the nearest taxi rank. so I hitch a lift with a bus driver and four conductors. all the while answering questions about the rain in england, manchester united and what I am doing in brazil.
we snake the streets some more, and the rain does not let up. eventually I jump out in my white skirt and hop over the rain rivers in my flip flops to the nearest taxi.
he drops me at the church on the lake, which I think is stunning. the roof curves beautifully over the church mirroring the water line of the lake.
at this point the skies seem to be clearing and I glimpse blue chinks above me. so I decide to head on out to the museum of modern art, that Oscar also designed. my guide book tells me that this is just opposite the church on the other side of the lake. what it doesn't tell me is quite how big the lake is...
when I eventually manage to hail a taxi, I watch as the metre creeps up and up. with no museum in sight I start to pà nic. I only have fifty reales in my purse, the metre is at twenty five already and I still have to get back to the bus stop and then back to the centre of town, some forty minutes away, let alone pay to get into the museum...
I tell a little white lie and say to the lovely taxi driver that I only have twenty five on me, which quite unsurprisingly by brazilian standards, he tells me that it is no problem at all, that would do.
the museum is mildly disappointing, especially after the drama of my journey here, and knowing that I still have to get back to adela and juniors, preferably before sunset...
oh and did I mention that I had run out of credit on my classy pay as you go mobile? otherwise I could have just phoned junior for a lift I guess... but I also didn't want to be beaten.
the museum staff tell me that there are no buses nearby and I would need to walk a little bit down the road.
I should mention that the brazilians have no sense of distance. I guess because their country is so big, but they will always say, oh it is just down the road...
the bus stop turned out to be about a forty five minute walk. fortunately the rain had stopped so the skirt wasn't going to become see-through. all I wanted to do at this point was jump in a cab, but remember that I only have twenty five reales left in my purse at this point and I was about another forty five minutes from home...
eventually I found a bus stop on a very busy highway and tried to make myself understood when I explained where I was going.
I have to say that I love the brazilians, they will go out of their way to help you. I was told when to get off, then I was walked to the bus stop some four blocks away by a very sweet young man, was left with some more helpful and friendly brazilians who made sure I got on the right bus, then again explaining where I was going, was helped off the bus again, and walked to the right road by a lovely lady.
I eventually made it home just as the sun was setting over Belo Horizonte. I was very proud of myself for making it home on my own, without having to put junior out and ask for a lift, and without getting stuck in the outskirts of a city I did not know without a penny to my name.
Monday, 25 April 2011
a stroll around Belo Horizonte
mid week through all of the packing of boxes I felt I deserved a short break. so I went to explore the city of Belo Horizonte.
adela and junior were impressed with how beautiful I was able to make the city look.
in actual fact I think it had a certain amount of urban charm, but don't tell adela I said that...
adela and junior were impressed with how beautiful I was able to make the city look.
in actual fact I think it had a certain amount of urban charm, but don't tell adela I said that...
Sunday, 24 April 2011
back to belo
from Rio I head back to Adela's for some quality time together.
she assures me that the city does not have a lot to offer and that I would be much happier staying in with her helping her pack boxes in preparation for her move to Vitoria. I am looking forward to discovering it for myself... if she lets me out of course!
my journey from Rio to Belo is the most comfortable I have ever been. step aside Virgin Upper! executive brazilian coaches are the way to go!
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
rules of the road - Brazil
- at night do not stop at a red light, just roll on through
- don't slow down for pedestrians, although they won't get out of the way, somehow you just won't hit them
- use as many lanes as you need
- if you realise you need to turn left or right, just do it, no need to check for traffic or slow down
- you can drive the wrong way up a one way street as long as you reverse the whole way
- don't slow down for pedestrians, although they won't get out of the way, somehow you just won't hit them
- use as many lanes as you need
- if you realise you need to turn left or right, just do it, no need to check for traffic or slow down
- you can drive the wrong way up a one way street as long as you reverse the whole way
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
the Brazilian pedicure
like the wax, the Brazilians like to take off a little more than we do... the cuticle clippng was, one could say, agressive?
fortunately the nail varnish colour that I had chosen matched the colour of the damage done around my nails perfectly...
fortunately the nail varnish colour that I had chosen matched the colour of the damage done around my nails perfectly...
does this make me less of a traveller?
catching a cab to the coach terminal, not a bus.
storing my luggage so that I don't have to wheel my trolley dolly behind me for 3 hours.
getting a pedicure whilst I wait for my coach to leave...
storing my luggage so that I don't have to wheel my trolley dolly behind me for 3 hours.
getting a pedicure whilst I wait for my coach to leave...
Monday, 18 April 2011
leaving lapa... again
it seems that Christo agrees with me, after ten minutes and one guarana of sitting by the beach, admiring the volleyballs and sand art, it starts to rain. so I head back up to Santa Teresa.
this time I will take more notice of the advice from the cariocas, especially as Lapa has come alive since I was frog marched out.
as the bus passes through, a scuffle breaks out in front of us. to the left there is a mini blocco that looks slightly out of control. so as I disembark, I walk purposefully towards the rattling furnicular railway making its way up the steep hills of Santa Teresa. I really want to experience the hopping off and hopping on for myself.
but Lapa had other plans. as I approached the station, the busy dual carriageway became more and more deserted. I started to question my decision as I could see, what can only be described as loony street men lining the path that I needed to take.
so I turned on my heels and retraced my steps, the friendly street sellers that I had asked for directions moments before, looked at me in bemusement. I explained, in my basic Portuguese, that I would take a taxi instead. and she replied, "yes, that´s better".
reassured by my decision not to get attached or mugged or at the very least harrassed, I jumped in a cab along the tram lines. which if I squinted really hard and opened the window wide, could almost very nearly, but not quite at all, be the same as the tram journey. almost...
this time I will take more notice of the advice from the cariocas, especially as Lapa has come alive since I was frog marched out.
as the bus passes through, a scuffle breaks out in front of us. to the left there is a mini blocco that looks slightly out of control. so as I disembark, I walk purposefully towards the rattling furnicular railway making its way up the steep hills of Santa Teresa. I really want to experience the hopping off and hopping on for myself.
but Lapa had other plans. as I approached the station, the busy dual carriageway became more and more deserted. I started to question my decision as I could see, what can only be described as loony street men lining the path that I needed to take.
so I turned on my heels and retraced my steps, the friendly street sellers that I had asked for directions moments before, looked at me in bemusement. I explained, in my basic Portuguese, that I would take a taxi instead. and she replied, "yes, that´s better".
reassured by my decision not to get attached or mugged or at the very least harrassed, I jumped in a cab along the tram lines. which if I squinted really hard and opened the window wide, could almost very nearly, but not quite at all, be the same as the tram journey. almost...
Sunday, 17 April 2011
please leave lapa
when I then head down to Lapa to see what it´s like during the day, I see yet more cool grafitti as well as an old aquaduct rising above the mess that is Lapa.
I am merrily snapping away, capturing the grafitti and colourful buildings, although fortunately not the mediocre sounds of hymns coming from a beautifully colourful blue and yellow church, when I am approached by a man.
he tells me that it is not safe for me here. I thank him and move on, all the while being sensible and aware of my surroundings. but not feeling unsafe. it is not long before I am approached again and told by another man that it is dangerous for me here.
so at this point I decide to make my way out of the area, not knowing entirely of course where I am. which must have shown despite my best efforts, as I was approached for the third and final time by an off duty policeman who insists on walking me to the bus stop for my own safety. so I was essentially escorted off the premises of Lapa!
I was disappointed as my bus took me down to the chic but arogant copacobana. we pass the sugar loaf mountain in all its glory and memories and I get off the bus wondering what I will do next.
I am merrily snapping away, capturing the grafitti and colourful buildings, although fortunately not the mediocre sounds of hymns coming from a beautifully colourful blue and yellow church, when I am approached by a man.
he tells me that it is not safe for me here. I thank him and move on, all the while being sensible and aware of my surroundings. but not feeling unsafe. it is not long before I am approached again and told by another man that it is dangerous for me here.
so at this point I decide to make my way out of the area, not knowing entirely of course where I am. which must have shown despite my best efforts, as I was approached for the third and final time by an off duty policeman who insists on walking me to the bus stop for my own safety. so I was essentially escorted off the premises of Lapa!
I was disappointed as my bus took me down to the chic but arogant copacobana. we pass the sugar loaf mountain in all its glory and memories and I get off the bus wondering what I will do next.
rio by day...
the following day I was up with the birds and monkeys and went for a wander up the hill into Santa Teresa.
I realise I have become obsessed with Brazil´s grafitti. I make slow progress on the walk up the hill as I can´t help but stop and snap the walls and even lamp posts of street art.
the tiny squirrel like monkeys watch on with confusion from their look out points on telegraph poles, and wonder what the hell this blonde woman is doing.
I realise I have become obsessed with Brazil´s grafitti. I make slow progress on the walk up the hill as I can´t help but stop and snap the walls and even lamp posts of street art.
rio by night...
so I spent two nights in Rio and I have to say that I enjoyed the city more than I did last time.
Santa Teresa was beautiful, very arty and friendly. I stayed in a b&b with two brazilian girls of a similar age to me.
the apartment was beautiful with banana trees with ACUTAL BANANAS growing on them, very cool.
following Flavia´s recommendation I ventured down the hill to Lapa. it was full of people in bars and spilly out into the streets. the music was loud and the atmosphere was vibrant.
I wandered around a bit soaking up the energy before deciding on a relatively quiet bar to sit and eat a pizza. from here I had a great vantage point for watching the street´s hive of activity as well as the samba schools carnival final on the tv.
Santa Teresa was beautiful, very arty and friendly. I stayed in a b&b with two brazilian girls of a similar age to me.
the apartment was beautiful with banana trees with ACUTAL BANANAS growing on them, very cool.
following Flavia´s recommendation I ventured down the hill to Lapa. it was full of people in bars and spilly out into the streets. the music was loud and the atmosphere was vibrant.
I wandered around a bit soaking up the energy before deciding on a relatively quiet bar to sit and eat a pizza. from here I had a great vantage point for watching the street´s hive of activity as well as the samba schools carnival final on the tv.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
things I have received for free so far contd...
x1 caipirinha
x1 all over sun burn... despite...
x1 bottle of SPF50
Itacimirim
x1 all over sun burn... despite...
x1 bottle of SPF50
Itacimirim
Monday, 11 April 2011
what more could I ask for???
a banana tree outside my window, with actual bunches of bananas growing on it!!!
Sunday, 10 April 2011
cama e cafe
although originally not on my itinerary I have decided to spend a couple of days in the "uber" chic city of Rio de Janeiro.
what I love about visiting a city for the second time is that generally you have already ticked off the obligatory sights and can therefore take in and soak up some of the city's more real and intimate atmosphere.
so with a little help from my personal travel agent in Belo Horizonte, I book myself (with her credit card, her phone bill and her Portuguese) into the bed and breakfast that I will call home for the next 2 nights. I hope that my hostess Flavia, along with her self proclaimed skills of making Honey Cachaca, might also be friends with a Vincent and can dance the tango. what more could I ask for...?
what I love about visiting a city for the second time is that generally you have already ticked off the obligatory sights and can therefore take in and soak up some of the city's more real and intimate atmosphere.
so with a little help from my personal travel agent in Belo Horizonte, I book myself (with her credit card, her phone bill and her Portuguese) into the bed and breakfast that I will call home for the next 2 nights. I hope that my hostess Flavia, along with her self proclaimed skills of making Honey Cachaca, might also be friends with a Vincent and can dance the tango. what more could I ask for...?
again I have lovingly stretched and rolled my beautiful blazer, my cream maxi and my white peg leg trousers, just some of the many ludicrously inappropriate clothes I have packed for Salvador carnival and a bus trip up the coast to a cheap hostel.
but despite my best efforts and being two weeks worth of contact lenses lighter (surely that should help?), somehow I just couldn't quite fit everything in as successfully as the last time.
so my "hand luggage" (anna bag of course) is becoming more like crane luggage.
but despite my best efforts and being two weeks worth of contact lenses lighter (surely that should help?), somehow I just couldn't quite fit everything in as successfully as the last time.
so my "hand luggage" (anna bag of course) is becoming more like crane luggage.
London bound...
and so I find myself London bound. after much gesticulation, broken Portuguese and frustration, I hope tat I have made myself understoot that I am jumping ship at Rio, and would like my luggage to join me. who would want to keep going to London so soon anyway! been there, done that and I'll get the t-shirt later in the year.
but right now it is time to turn this jaunt from a two week holiday to the start of a longer adventure...
but right now it is time to turn this jaunt from a two week holiday to the start of a longer adventure...
Saturday, 9 April 2011
random conversation with lovely old Brazilian lady
on a bus to Salvador airport...
old lady: "what a lovely haircut you have"
laura: "me? oh thank you very much!" whilst stroking the back of my head modestly, somewhat surprised.
old lady: "turn around, let me see the back"
laura: [I duly turn around]
old lady: "it's really lovely, when did you have it cut?"
laura: "a month ago I think"
old lady: " wow! really? where are you from?"
laura: "England"
old lady: "how far is that on the plane? two hours?"....
I have of course paraphrased the old lady and much of what she said was translated by another, much younger, Brazilian lady into much more understandable Portuguese.
old lady: "what a lovely haircut you have"
laura: "me? oh thank you very much!" whilst stroking the back of my head modestly, somewhat surprised.
old lady: "turn around, let me see the back"
laura: [I duly turn around]
old lady: "it's really lovely, when did you have it cut?"
laura: "a month ago I think"
old lady: " wow! really? where are you from?"
laura: "England"
old lady: "how far is that on the plane? two hours?"....
I have of course paraphrased the old lady and much of what she said was translated by another, much younger, Brazilian lady into much more understandable Portuguese.
Friday, 8 April 2011
observation
one of the joys of travelling is the diversity of the people that you meet. you travel so far away from your home and meet such a rich mixture of cultures.
omar is half Pakistinian originally, born and bred in the garden of England, now living in Sheperd's Bush.
joel is from the West Indies originaly, born and bred in the depths of the strange and alien North London...
iticimirim
the hostel that I stayed at in itacimirim was so cute. all hammocks, bright colours and coconuts.
it took us the best part of the midday sun to walk the distance from the bus to the pousada, trolley dolly and all. so as a special treate we decided to take the four seater bicycle to the beach. it looked like a lot of hard work from where I was sitting in the front seat...
Thursday, 7 April 2011
beach bound
and so I leave the city. like a real life independent trepid traveller, I head not for the taxi rank, as I might at home... but for the elusive bus stop.
I wait for one of my travel companions to meet me at the end of my road. as ever my gallant chaperone is late. when I see him, I am jealous of his teeny overnight bag. he after all is returning to salvador after our jaunt, but I plan to continue my adventures directly.
in my pretty white skirt, flip flops, vest and statement earrings, I am back packing personified. but the sixth months worth of clothes are already wearing me down just five minutes down the road. these trolley dollies are hard work to pull along.
unashamedly I allow a man to lift my slightly oversized wheelie onto the air conditioned bus, through the awkward turnstyle and all.
so we are on our way to Itacimirim, what will become my first paradise beach of the trip.
I wait for one of my travel companions to meet me at the end of my road. as ever my gallant chaperone is late. when I see him, I am jealous of his teeny overnight bag. he after all is returning to salvador after our jaunt, but I plan to continue my adventures directly.
in my pretty white skirt, flip flops, vest and statement earrings, I am back packing personified. but the sixth months worth of clothes are already wearing me down just five minutes down the road. these trolley dollies are hard work to pull along.
unashamedly I allow a man to lift my slightly oversized wheelie onto the air conditioned bus, through the awkward turnstyle and all.
so we are on our way to Itacimirim, what will become my first paradise beach of the trip.
what a mistake to make...
helpful vocabulary for this story
morango - strawberry
frango - chicken
you can see where this is going...
I realised my mistake just in time when I asked for chicken on my vanilla ice-cream.
morango - strawberry
frango - chicken
you can see where this is going...
I realised my mistake just in time when I asked for chicken on my vanilla ice-cream.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
the streets of salvador are empty...
the city is bearly recognisable, as scaffolding is taken down, hoardings removed, and rubbish swept up. leaving only the growing stench of the lack of toilets during carnival, drying in the sun to remind us of the debauchery of salvador carnival...
good-bye salvador
it was a lot of fun, but it has been crazy.
it's time to move on and get out of the city...
it's time to move on and get out of the city...
salvador carnival day four part II - samba blocco
free invitation
being accepted with enthusiasm.
hats being worn as abadas.
lifting of ropes to welcome us in.
drums being played and thrown all the while.
samba drums
being thrown in the air.
drummers running, an exodus, along either side of the float.
reappearing in front of me again.
drums being played and thrown all the while.
samba steps
being danced in a traditional afro samba blocco.
dancers taking us in as guests.
teaching us and guiding us in front of the float.
drums being played and thrown all the while.
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
the carnival effect
a friend of mine, who will remain nameless...
walked home from carnival one night and was approached by a number of men trying to sell him a motorbike helmet. he couldn't really understand why. but, not wanting to be conspicuous in his foreigness, he politely declined.
it wasn't until the next day when he was back with the group that he realised they were moto taxis offering him a ride on their motorbike... genius!
it wasn't until the next day when he was back with the group that he realised they were moto taxis offering him a ride on their motorbike... genius!
salvador carnival day four - filhos de gandhi
on my solitary walk to campo grande on sunday night, I start to notice the groups of men in robes and necklaces.
I am aware of sticking out like a sore thumb, so naturally slip into the all important confident stride and ensure I do not make eye contact.
I see these guys growing in numbers and becoming boisterous groups of confident men, not disimilar from our very own brits abroad.
our teacher has filled us with fear of girls being lassued with necklaces, boys not taking no for an answer, pharmacies selling spirigel mouth spray to combat the spread of germs...
as it was I didn't have much to fear, the boys were not going to waste their time and energy fighting with you, so a polite no with a smile did the trick.
that said I did come away with three free necklaces...
necklace one - I gave a guy a light and spoke to him about London
necklace two - given to me by an old woman who liked my samba dancing
necklace three - thrown to me by a filho on a passing float with, what I like to think as, very good aim.
this was an amazing blocco to witness. we walked passed it before it had started on its course, already impressive.
but when it later caught up with us it was insane. thousands and thousands of men. all in full gandhi gear, dancing and singing.
I managed to avoid a dowsing, but the little I did receive I hoped would act as a mosquite repellent at least.
there was one song that came on where all the filhos, all of them, lifted their bottles in the air and sprayed in unison. very odd, and I'm not sure of the meaning and relevance, but it was an incredible sight.
things I have received for free so far
x3 filhos de gandhi necklaces
x1 palm leaf rose
x1 invitation into a samba blocco...
x1 palm leaf rose
x1 invitation into a samba blocco...
Monday, 4 April 2011
filhos de gandhy
a concept which I am not sure gandhi had in mind...
the biggest blocco of them all, I am told eighteen thousand strong, and also one of the most expensive.
men dressed in white robes, with sandles, turbans and amongst lots of other accessories, the all important blue and white necklaces.
in some instances what looks like hundreds of the things strung around their necks and over both shoulders.
the aim of the game?
to give the necklaces away to girls in return for a kiss...
Sunday, 3 April 2011
salvador carnival day three - camarote
saturday night's camarote has a very different flavour.
before I head out I have one very important thing to do, customise my abada. apart from the fact that they only had extra large men's sizes left, I realised on friday night that customisation is key.
you'd be amazed at the effort women had gone to. walking around town on saturday I now notice all of the tailors offering this service. women have turned their t-shirts into dresses, halterneck tops, boob tubes and crop tops.
I have not allowed myself the time for a tailor so with scissors in hand I get busy. I decide to go with a deep backed vee, being careful all the while not to cut off my all important logo, as this is the passport I need for entry into the world of carnival exclusivity.
I'm pleased with my handiwork, although perhaps I should not quit the day job (oops too late...) to become a designer or pattern cutter.
we meet as any western group would... at mcdonalds and head out. it's still early so the parade route is quite quiet. we find our camarote and head in to explore.
amongst the sea of yellow we find the bar (slightly overpriced) and a viewing balcony already full of people so we can't really see the street below.
we end up standing down on street level, still within the safety of our camarote. but the view and atmosphere here on ground level is much more exciting than the somewhat sterile environment upstairs.
the crowd is electric and I just can't quite take in the enormity of this carnival, however much I look around and absorb it there's still more to see.
the floats start moving passed us at a snail's pace. but that's the point, so everyone along the way gets to see and hear the music from the artists on the floats.
these singers and bands perform for the whole length of the carnival, with no breaks and not just for the ten hours tonight, but for the next seven nights.
the crowd goes wild for yvette sangalo, a Brazilian favourite. mine is parangole, who performs the song that Jailson taught me on my first day in Salvador. I like to think that I am a bit of an expert now, although truth be told I only learnt the proper words two weeks later from two nine year old girls.
as we wait for the next blocco to make its way up the street, we wander back in to explore. in the grounds of the camarote we find a stage with a band playing, so we are constantly entertained.
we wander backwards and forwards like this all night. buying our piriguetas on the street, four for five, rather than one for seven inside.
it's an amazing night. so far I have experienced every aspect of carnival; pipoca, free gay blocco, axe samba blocco, camarote... what will tomorrow night bring..?
before I head out I have one very important thing to do, customise my abada. apart from the fact that they only had extra large men's sizes left, I realised on friday night that customisation is key.
you'd be amazed at the effort women had gone to. walking around town on saturday I now notice all of the tailors offering this service. women have turned their t-shirts into dresses, halterneck tops, boob tubes and crop tops.
I'm pleased with my handiwork, although perhaps I should not quit the day job (oops too late...) to become a designer or pattern cutter.
we meet as any western group would... at mcdonalds and head out. it's still early so the parade route is quite quiet. we find our camarote and head in to explore.
we end up standing down on street level, still within the safety of our camarote. but the view and atmosphere here on ground level is much more exciting than the somewhat sterile environment upstairs.
the crowd is electric and I just can't quite take in the enormity of this carnival, however much I look around and absorb it there's still more to see.
the floats start moving passed us at a snail's pace. but that's the point, so everyone along the way gets to see and hear the music from the artists on the floats.
these singers and bands perform for the whole length of the carnival, with no breaks and not just for the ten hours tonight, but for the next seven nights.
the crowd goes wild for yvette sangalo, a Brazilian favourite. mine is parangole, who performs the song that Jailson taught me on my first day in Salvador. I like to think that I am a bit of an expert now, although truth be told I only learnt the proper words two weeks later from two nine year old girls.
as we wait for the next blocco to make its way up the street, we wander back in to explore. in the grounds of the camarote we find a stage with a band playing, so we are constantly entertained.
we wander backwards and forwards like this all night. buying our piriguetas on the street, four for five, rather than one for seven inside.
Friday, 1 April 2011
forgotten memory
when we arrived at the masked blocco the boys soon realised that it was a gay affair. their awareness much more accute than my own.
we were surrounded by a common sight at carnival, men in drag. but one in particular had me stop dead in the crowd.
as we were being pushed along in the blocco, I felt a slight chill and quiet in the air, as a beautiful man, seemingly on points floated past. it took me a moment to realise, but this vision of beauty was dressed and made up as the black swan. the resemblence was not perfect, but the persona and mood as we locked eyes was magical.
I was reminded of a time when my sister and I were at the Venice carnival some eleven years ago. when on a deserted street two men in cloaks floated past us with giant moon faces. again it was as if the whole of Venice stopped still and silent for them.
these moments always amaze me, that we can find such calm and serenity amongst such chaos and confusion.
[image found on zeenie2005.blogspot.com]
we were surrounded by a common sight at carnival, men in drag. but one in particular had me stop dead in the crowd.
as we were being pushed along in the blocco, I felt a slight chill and quiet in the air, as a beautiful man, seemingly on points floated past. it took me a moment to realise, but this vision of beauty was dressed and made up as the black swan. the resemblence was not perfect, but the persona and mood as we locked eyes was magical.
I was reminded of a time when my sister and I were at the Venice carnival some eleven years ago. when on a deserted street two men in cloaks floated past us with giant moon faces. again it was as if the whole of Venice stopped still and silent for them.
these moments always amaze me, that we can find such calm and serenity amongst such chaos and confusion.
[image found on zeenie2005.blogspot.com]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)