My experience as a spectator at Rio’s 2012 Carnaval
While I’m big on parties and dancing, I’m not usually game for big crowds and chaos. That’s why I never had the desire to attend Rio de Janeiro’s carnival. But when the opportunity to go as both a spectator and a participant presented itself, there was no way I was going to miss it. What greeted me in Rio was surprising–considering the hoards of travelers who descend upon the city from Brazil and the rest of the world for Carnaval, Rio manages to remain fairly organized and relaxed. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; it’s a beach city, after all: how can anyone remain high-strung with beach waves and fresh coconuts a few minutes away? I ended up attending the 2012 carnival parade at Rio de Janeiro’s Sambadrome over the course of two nights: on Sunday night as part of the parade in one of the wings of samba school Mocidade Independente de Padre Miguel, and on Monday night as a spectator. This blog post describes the experience of being a carnival spectator; photos and explanations below are grouped by samba school (Unfortunately, my camera died halfway through the night). The experience will stay fresh in my mind for a lifetime.
I watched four schools on the Monday: União da Ilha, Salgueiro, Mangueira, and Unidos da Tijuca. It was great viewing from my frisa (open box seats down in the front). Frisa seats are pricey, but they’re worth it– you’re practically on top of the action, you’re close enough to make eye contact with people in the parade, and the restroom situation is very manageable as there are restrooms for your section a few steps away (maybe some people wouldn’t care about #3, but it’s a major plus in my book!). I must confess, however, that while my seat was awesome, I didn’t use it once during the night — I danced the entire time that I was there.
Elation and awe — these are the two words I would use to describe the experience of watching Carnaval unfold. When you watch the samba schools parade down “the Avenue” in the Sambadrome, you are watching true artistry. But you are also watching the culmination of efforts by regular people from the samba schools’ neighborhoods who have volunteered their time over the course of a year to pull off this event.
The samba schools illustrate their themes through their allegorical floats, costumes, dancers & revelers, and song. Some themes are fairly straightforward while others are more convoluted. Rio’s Special Group samba schools (the top 13 schools who compete for first place) have a maximum of eighty-two minutes to tell their stories and get their entire procession down the 700-meter “avenue” of the Sambadrome. During this time, the school’s samba-enredo (theme song) plays continuously, performed live on-site by the singer. Every school has five to eight floats populated with destaques (awesomely costumed people who dance in VIP positions on the floats or in front of certain wings or floats), wings of revelers in costume, a bateria (drum and percussion section) consisting of 200 to 300 musicians, a queen of the drums, a godmother, standard-bearers who carry the school’s flag, muses (really beautiful, charismatic women!), passistas (a samba school’s most skilled dancers capable of rapid, intricate footwork), Baianas (generally older women of the samba school who are dressed as traditional aunts from the northeastern state of Bahia and are easily recognizable with their big hoop skirts that twirl so nicely while the ladies spin down the Avenue), a Velha Guarda (Old Guard) composed of older samba dancers who danced with the school long ago, and the singer who not only sings the samba-enredo, but displays great showmanship in rallying the spectators and the participants.
União da Ilha‘s procession was themed From London to Rio: Once upon a Time, There Was an Island… Ilha’s official colors are red, white, and blue, like the Union Jack. One major element of the plot was the symbolic passing of the Olympic torch from England to Brazil. The school featured references to the history, legends, and culture of the British Isles. Ilha is a school noted for its joyously irreverent nature, and much of its procession was very comical. Many of the song’s lyrics were funny: “I’m gonna put Worcestershire sauce in the Feijoada (Brazil’s national bean stew dish)/ I’m gonna mix tea with Cachaça (Brazil’s national liquor, similar to rum)… My island is gold and silver, and has the bronze of the Mulatta…” Floats and revelers portrayed the country’s military and naval might, and its history of exploration and conquest; literary and musical contributions were also the subject of certain floats. See pictures below for examples.
Samba school Salgueiro‘s theme, Cordel Branco e Encarnado (“Red & White Cordel”) was a celebration of northeastern Brazil’s traditional cordel genre of literature, which translates literally as “string literature.” This folk literature was very poetic, and usually centered around fairy tales, legends, popular traditions, and current events of the northeastern region. It was written in poetic verse by poets and troubadours, and printed as small booklets. The authors would set up a stand at the local markets and squares, and hang their booklets on string so that passersby could get a look at them, hence the term “string literature.” Salgueiro’s procession illustrated many elements of northeastern Brazilian culture, as well as certain well known Cordel classics. It had a strong “Wild West” feel to it, and a mood of adventure, as much focus was given to the bandit culture of the northeastern semi-arid backlands.
Mangueira– unarguably Brazil’s most popular samba school, and an old, established school that is strongly rooted in classic Carnival traditions– chose to honor the 50th anniversary of the beloved samba Carnival band, Cacique de Ramos. Cacique de Ramos is a traditional street carnival block, or bloco. Street festivities are still the most common way to celebrate Carnival. Through their theme, titled Vou festejar! Sou Cacique, sou Mangueira (“I will celebrate! I am Chief! I am Mangueira!”), Mangueira portrayed the festivities of a quintessential Rio-style street carnival.
Sadly, my camera died before samba school Unidos da Tijuca even started down the Avenue, but they were truly a spectacle to behold. Their theme, The Day Royalty Landed on the Avenue to Crown Luiz King of the Wilderness, was a tribute to northeastern Brazilian folk singer and composer Luiz Gonzaga. Various kings and queens from our modern times were represented, recognizable monarchs like Queen Elizabeth II, as well as figures who are thought of as kings of their respective spheres, like Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, Elvis, and Pelé, the King of Soccer, just to name a few. In a plot that reminded me a bit of the Three Kings’ Visit to Jesus, these royal figures were portrayed as descending upon the Sambadrome to crown Luiz Gonzaga as King of the Sertão (a word that refers to Brazil’s northeastern wilderness and hinterlands). Gonzaga, who died in 1989, was a prolific folk singer and accordion player, but he was born of the humblest origins in northeastern Brazil; this imagined coronation was a touching story. Tijuca took first place this year for their homage to Luiz Gonzaga, and it was very well deserved.
I enjoyed every single performance that I watched, but I think Tijuca affected me the most deeply that night. My favorite theme, however, was that of Salgueiro; their theme speaks to the literature fanatic, the history buff, and the dreamer in me. Interestingly, both of these schools’ songs this year strongly showcased the accordion, which is one of my absolute favorite instruments. It should be noted however, that these were my favorites of the schools that I watched, but my allegiance goes wholeheartedly to Mocidade Indepedente de Padre Miguel, the school with whom I paraded down the Avenue!
Watching Rio’s Carnival is exciting and emotional because it’s so joyous, and everyone in the venue seems to be on the same happy page. But as grandiose as the spectacle is, it still feels like a community event. Your eyes might focus on the incredible engineering of a larger-than-life intricate float, but move your eyes downward towards the ground, and you’ll catch a glimpse of the dedicated samba school members pushing the float forward; none of this happens by magic. The other element of Carnaval that I find so moving is that element of tribute. There are artists, legends, historical figures, and pieces of history that are dusted off and brought to light, and they are celebrated and given their dues. In that process, they are constantly re-born and brought to mind.
I had the pleasure of visiting Rio de Janeiro’s iconic Cristo Redentor statue this past February. I’ve seen Christ the Redeemer in so many pictures, but seeing it in person was truly special. Corcovado, the mountain on which the statue stands, is something to behold–over 2,000 feet of solid granite rock rising sharply and steeply towards the sky. I took the cog train up the mountain to the site. It’s a relaxing twenty-minute ride–you get a great view of the city and valleys, and there is lush tropical foliage to see as the train moves through the Tijuca Forest on its climb towards the top.
There were a lot of people up there near Cristo. There was a young priest, wrapping up a blessing– it was the morning of Ash Wednesday: that pensive, quiet day that’s supposed to sober those who are still recovering from days and nights of bacchanalian revelry during Carnaval. True to Brazilian nature however, even an atmosphere of attempted solemnity retains a festive spirit. The priest was grinning and chuckling as he sprinkled holy water over an energetic bunch of people, some of whom were paying attention to him, while others milled around. Standing at that high point, you see much of Rio, and are reminded of the beauty that gives the beloved city its well deserved nickname, a Cidade Maravilhosa, the “Marvelous City.”
There’s a slight sense of desperation as people jockey for a prime spot in front of the statue, eager for perfect shots of themselves with their arms outstretched, imitating the stance of the 130-foot-tall statue behind them. Once one person has gotten a satisfactory photo of himself with arms wide open, he rushes to trade places with someone else in his party, knowing he must return the favor and snap a picture of his friend or relative doing the same thing. Folks lying on the ground are a common sight in front of the statue; they’re not doing penance, they’re just taking pictures.
As for the statue itself… Before seeing it, I was tempted to lump Rio’s Redeemer in with other similar religious works. After all, the world is chock-full of Jesus statues, and after fourteen years of Catholic preschool-through-high-schooling, and a lifelong passion I’ve had for visiting old churches when traveling, I’ve seen lots of Jesus statues. But upon viewing it up close, seeing the delicate workmanship of the piece, the serene expression of the face of the statue, I couldn’t think of it as yet another Jesus statue. Standing before it added a whole other dimension to my perception of the piece; I was so moved. My friends and I were fortunate to have such a beautiful, bright sky on that sunny Wednesday morning. Cristo Redentor is truly stunning, and I think of it as one of the most special sites I’ve visited.