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...