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Published: February 27th 2012
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Never in my life have I been part of a better party than the one I experienced in Salvador for Carnaval. Never.
I had originally planned to go to Rio for Carnaval; however, I ended up being invited to stay in Salvador with a friend whom I met back in 2010 on the tiny and mysterious speck of land that is Easter Island. It was one of those moments whereupon you meet someone and an instant friendship is formed. Thus, we have kept in touch in the interim and when Leandro discovered that I was returning to South America, he promptly invited me to come to his homeland in the Bahia region of Brazil and partake in the biggest party on the planet with him and his friends. Such an offer was simply too good to refuse and the more Brazilian people I spoke to in my travels through Argentina and Chile, it became evident that the Carnaval in Salvador is regarded by the locals as the one which is the wildest and, therefore, the most fun.
As soon as I saw the palm trees along the likes of Itapuã beach I knew that I was in for a
good time. Having spent the best part of two months in the mountains, going for a swim in the ocean for the first time since I had been in Australia was top of my agenda, followed by trying some of the local fare. Bahia is the region of Brazil where the African roots are still firmly entrenched from the days of the slave trade. There were so many Africans brought to Bahia and their culture was so indomitable, that they simply formed their own communities which have since thrived and had a significant influence over the religion, food and musical rhythms of the region. Capoeira also hails from Bahia and the instruments played whilst this martial arts dance is performed are also distinctly African in origin. On one day Leandro took us to what is now a market, but was originally the place where the slaves arrived from Africa and were sold off to the highest bidder. Salvador is essentially the oldest city in Brazil and was its first capital, so there are an abundance of historical sites to see, from old Portuguese forts to the colourful old buildings and ornate cathedrals of the Pelourinho district, which is a terrific
place to wander around. The Portuguese influence is evident not only from the language and architecture, but also in the white and black patterned stonework that forms all the pavements in the city, not unlike Lisbon and Cascais.
Anyway, enough of the history and onto the party! I did not quite know what to expect and deliberately did not look up any information on the Carnaval in Salvador. This resulted in wide-eyed enjoyment and a continuous assault on the senses (let's just say that there could never be enough toilets for a million drinking party animals). I guess I should begin from the moment when I entered one of the three designated Carnaval circuits on the first night. Leandro pointed out about 30 people with their hands in the air who were being searched by the military police to see if they were thieves. This presence of authority was something of a relief considering the 166 homicides which took place in the streets of Salvador during the 12 days leading up to Carnaval due to a police strike! We weaved our way through the throng and at one point I found myself standing in a densely packed street just
opposite a gay club. After a couple of teasing squirts from a water pistol and a few boys batting their mascara lashes at me, we moved on to the heart of the festival for my first taste of what it was all about. I quickly noticed that leaving the gay district did not correlate to a decrease in the proliferation of bodies waxed so much that the remaining skin was barely the thickness of the transparent wing of a butterfly. I am certain that I have never seen so many waxed and shaven male torsos in my life. Then again, their bodies did indeed seem to have been produced from the same school that sculpted the Greek gods of yesteryear. Still, I tried not to get too close in case I suffered some coarse sandpaper grazes upon my own flesh.
The circuit we had chosen wound along the coast, with the waves lapping the shores behind the palm trees as hundreds of thousands of revellers danced along to the music, fuelled by alcohol and seemingly raging hormones. The way these people dance is nothing short of overt eroticism and if they find themselves entangled in a sexual escapade at
some stage, I am not convinced that it would be too far removed from the way they were dancing in the street in full view of everyone anyway. Maybe I am just jealous because I am a white boy who would dearly love to have the innate rhythm that these people all seem to have. However, my Brazilian friends told me on the second night that I had attained the Brazilian swagger when I was dancing, so I took that as a good thing after my abortive attempts at tango in Buenos Aires. Okay, I guess I should explain the circuit. What happens is this: there are dozens of semi-trailers which wind their way through the circuit at what must be less than 5km/h. They move about 50 metres and then stop for a decent length of time, which enables you to dance without having to walk at the same time (more fun than just plain old walking, I discovered). These trucks all have live music being played atop of them, which is then blasted out through arena size speakers that consume the entire cargo area of the trailer. The performers are the biggest names in Brazilian music, so the
crowds continually go absolutely berserk. They play for around six hours without a break and you either follow your favourite artist, or find a good vantage point to watch them all go past, whilst dancing and just generally going mental. The African influence is obvious in their music, with even the rock groups having at least three drummers or percussionists, because music here is all about rhythm and dance. I would hazard a guess that every second song seemed to have choreographed dance moves that every local knew by heart. I tried to join in as best as I could and by the time each night ended, I, like everyone else, was in a lather of sweat from dancing for so many hours on end in the humidity of a tropical summer night.
We repeated this for four consecutive nights, spending the days lazing at beaches, drinking out of coconuts, snoozing or doing touristy things like visiting Bonfim Church or trying local dishes such as delicious
moqueca,
feijoada,
acarajé or yummy
queijo coalho - roasted cheese on a stick! This is one party that I hope to repeat...maybe to coincide with the World Cup being held in Brazil in
2014???
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