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Published: February 15th 2008
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As the world's largest street party, Carnival was never likely to disappoint anyone willing to make the trip to Brazil. Rio hosts the biggest, but Salvador is where alot of the young folk in Brazil head for, and where I landed on the Thursday before the biggest week in the town's calendar.
I had read lots about Carnival, and watched some videos online in an effort to get an idea for what I was about to witness, but despite all that I wasn't prepared for the madness. From the moment I set foot in the Pelourinho, the town's historical centre, it was clear that Brazilians take partying very seriously indeed.
There is a very strong african influence in Salvador's Carnival, taking its beginnings from the slave trade in the post-Columban times. This african influence is clear in the brightly coloured streets, and at carnival time in the abundance of african drumming that echoes around the Pelourinho´s cobbled streets. These groups of drummers
and dancers attract spectators and followers. We joined the masses dancing up the street after one of these mini 'blocos'- makes for great entertainment, and in the intense Salvador heat, it makes for a very sweaty Irishman too!
Just when I though I was getting acclimatised to the Carnival, and I started thinking that I could handle it all, we discovered that the real Carnival centre was a bit out of town in an area called Barra. What we had seen on the first night was the tame, family version of events. So we duly got on a bus (overcrowded has taken on a new meaning for me since that trip) and braved the streets of Barra.
Barra was, as promised, a harder-faster version of what had gone before. The scale of the entire thing for me was hardest to comprehend. We walked for street after street, filled with people dancing,
street vendors selling beers, cocktails and meat-on-a-stick (often precariously undercooked). And you assume the the next street must be where the Blocos begin. About half an hour later you might be lucky enough to turn a corner and hit the main route. It spans for literally miles.
A Bloco, I should explain, is an entertainment centre for carnival. It consists of a large truck with a monstrous sound system, on top of which the music or dance act perfroms. At the front of the bloco is often a group of dancers doing some bottom-winggling, or Samba as its more popularly known. Around all of this is a rope carried by a few hundred men and women that seperates those who have paid to join the Bloco, and are sporting the very fancy singlets that constitute the ticket; from those who have not. Those who have not are referred to as the popcorn. A word that very clearly explains the effect when the Bloco of a few thousand people pushes its way up an already full street - it gets very very squashed, and you feel like you might pop up into the air at any second!
I went
to two of the Blocos - one called Beijo with alot of african drumming and dancig; and the Fatboy Slim Bloco - house music. They last for 6 hours of non-stop dancing, as the Bloco drives a circuit around the city. For Beijo I lasted 3 of the 6 hours before my legs caved in. For Fatboy Slim I lasted the 6 - I think the practice from my previous Bloco combined with the fact that I actually new all the music made the legs a bit more resilant. It has to go down as one of the craziest, if not THE craziest experience I have ever had. Being in the think of a few thousand people singing and dancing our way through the streets of Salvador is a special feeling. It is something I won´t forget for a very very long time.
Intersperced with the Blocos and the city life we had a few chances to escape and relax on some
of the local beaches. They are veritable tropical paradises. No better way to let the feet recover than to relax under a plam tree and drink some cocunut milk fresh from the coconut. Great for soothing a hangover too!
With the good there is also the bad - much of Salvador is extremely poor. Pick-pocketings are pretty standard and muggings are also common-place. Among the 10 of us left in the hostel on the last night we were came to a staggering figure for the muggings and pick-poketings we had suffered. For my part I was pick-pocketed on of the night. I lost about 1 Reais - about the equivalent of 50c. I don´t think it will put too much of a dent in my travel plans! One of the others in the hostel was mugged and also had his sandals stolen. Talk about adding insult to injury - "Give me your money, and now you can walk home bare foot too!". When you consider the poverty that some people live in there you can start to understand the high crime level. As one exaple: there are empty can collectors everywhere you turn that fill refuse bags full of cans and get paid 2 Reais for it (about 1 Euro). Such is the competition to earn this money, that they will suffer beatings from the people holding the Bloco ropes to get inside the Bloco to pick up the cans! On a positive note though, I have been told by all my fellow travellers that Salvador is the most dangerous city they have been in by far. So since I have survived it unscathed, I think I should be fine for the rest of the trip.
Beyond carnival it's been relaxation most of the way. Lencois was the next stop - a town of incedible natural beauty. We swam in natural lakes, showered under waterfalls. The scenery there is really breathtaking.
And I'm now in a little beach resort called Arraial D'Ajuda, taking the opportunity to pan out in hammocks and on the beach. After the frenetic pace of Canrival, life has slowed to a snails pace.
Next stop Rio, where relaxation is going to find its way out the window in a big hurry!
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