Timbalada

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Written 02/19/07 12:57pm by Meli then Leroy

Yes, it’s been three days since we finished the last entry. Can anyone really keep up with blogging or even checking e-mail during Carnaval? The city is taken over… we are exhausted from the aerobics of attending blocos and camarotes. We are fully in the mix, and my only regrets are: 1) that you can’t all be here with us, and 2) that we can’t film it all for you. Let’s see, back to Friday…

Everybody is Finally Here!
The day begins slowly. My first mission is to just be around when Delene gets in. To be honest (as I sit here pleading with Delene to refresh my memory, despite the fact she wasn’t even here yet)… Leroy made me go workout with him. It was hot and humid in the gym, but it got the job done. Legs still tired from last night and having just worked out, Leroy thought it a great idea to take the stair back to the apartment, on the 8th floor. Painful! My face was wet and I don’t know if it was from sweat, tears or both. Lou and Brandee attempted going to the bank and they went grocery shopping, but that’s all about I remember. When the intercom went off, it turned out to be Jak with three of his friends (Adam, Lauren, and Natalia). I let them up and we immediately started sharing stories. Apparently they tried to visit us on Thursday but we weren’t around. They went to the historic center of town (Pelourinho, pronounced “peh-low-REEN-yoo”) to party that night while we were in the middle of pipoca. It was about 2pm but Jak was already well into a couple of eyeopeners. Soon enough, the buzzer rang again, and there appeared Delene. We were finally all here!!!

Getting Ready for Our First Bloco
Leroy, Delene, and I hit the beach to get something to eat, and we ended up eating street food - coxinhas de frango (kinda like chicken croquettes) and empadas (empanadas). Our first bloco, called Timbalada (pronounced “cheem-bah-LAH-da”), was set to start around 5:30pm, so later, we ladies went to the seamstress around the corner to have our abadá, which looked like a basketball jersey, re-sewn into halter tops. It is common practice for the women to have their abadás altered to actually fit and look nice. Considering that the Friday night Timbalada abadá was bright yellow with pictures of beach umbrellas on it, we definitely had to do something about it. We ran some errands as we do everyday - grocery store and bank.

Timbalada
When 5pm rolled around, I picked up our altered abadás, which was an adventure in itself. An American middle-aged lady was there and they had cut her abadá too small. I helped translate, and they somehow redid it (not very nicely), and the whole time I was praying that ours ended up okay. And they did. They were perfect - except we had all picked the same style but Delene’s ended up slightly different. We got dressed, had a bit of a pre-party, took pictures and headed out… thinking the whole time that the party wouldn’t really start at 5:30pm. Well it must have. In fact, it must have started earlier. When we got to the lighthouse, our bloco was nowhere to be found, and we saw people in similar shirts running through pipoca toward the front of the parade. Little did we know, before we began that run, that our bloco was about a mile ahead of us. Delene and I headed up the run, literally jogging as fast as we could through pipoca, trying not to step into puddles or run into beer sellers. Leroy, somehow ended up in front of us, but not because of his track skills - the fearless adventurer found a shortcut as he always does! When we finally got to Timbalada, we ducked under the rope and joined the throngs. Timbalada is known for its percussion and has a great sound, having been started by famous artists Carlinhos Brown. The minute we entered, we were given can-sized Styrofoam holders for our drinks, big cardboard hands for waving, stickers, and for some of us, white paint designs on our arms. We knew Jak’s group was somewhere around, but it would be a while before we found them.

So, then… four or five hours passed. No, really. Can you imagine four hours of running, jumping, and dancing in the rain with pipoca singing along and camarote people throwing handkerchiefs and beer on you? Can you imagine playing “mob games?” Okay, I’ve coined that term myself… but basically, there were about six men whose job for the bloco was to do dances and tell people what to do—at one point Leroy joined the 6 other guys and led the crowd for a song or two…what a ham! They would do a dance move, and everyone around them would imitate (kinda like the electric slide concept, except the dance moves were more like aerobics maneuvers - really easy to follow, even for the rhythm challenged). Another thing they would do was start walking backwards, pushing and squishing everyone behind them… then, when the song hit fever pitch, they would run full blast into the space they created in front of them. They did this back to front, side to side. It was INSANE. Especially for foreigners who can’t understand the Portuguese instructions and thus are shocked to find themselves either squashed or almost trampled. It was incredibly fun. The music was fantastic, and pretty soon, even though we don’t know them, we end up knowing some words. Carnaval blocos tend to play certain popular songs over and over… by the end of the night, our own group was singing “Cachaça!” and “Te-te-te-te-te-te-te” (I know that doesn’t look like anything, but I’ll sing it for you if you ask!).

Kisses
Another thing about Carnaval (well, it happens all the time in clubs in Brasil, but exponentially during Carnaval) is the random hooking up and kissing. Men will literally come up to you, say something like “você é linda” (you are beautiful), “que sorriso” (what a smile), or to me, “japonesa!” (Japanese girl), and then try to kiss you. Delene didn’t know not to look anyone in the eye and smile - as that seems to be an invitation. She had one guy try at least five times to kiss her and she successfully said no and threw up the hand every time. Lou and Leroy had to save her on a couple of occasions. I have my evasion maneuver for dive bombing down… What’s really funny is when they actually try to talk to you. “You’re beautiful, kiss me.” - “No!” - “Why not?” - “I have a fiancée” - “Where is he? I don’t see him here.” No respect! The grossest thing about it is that when you see the Brazilian girls succumb to it, it’s a ghastly sight. It’s like junior high level making out. Sloppy! Then, the girl pushes the guy away and walks away without a word. End of encounter. They must think we Americans are the ultimate prudes.

Meeting Jak
Midway through the parade, Jak found us. We met up with his group of eight, plus three Canadian girls they met. Now we are a true posse, although we kept getting separated. Any time someone wanted to go to the bathroom, they had to make their way through the crowd to the support truck. I luckily have a power bladder, and an intense fear of gross bathrooms. The rest of the parade is a blur - there was lots of dancing, jumping, laughing, running, pointing, kiss evading, singing, drinking (lots of water too - must stay hydrated!), sweat and rain wiping, and screaming.

The Trek Home
When the bloco ended, we were about three miles from home in the middle of a big square. We hung out a bit. I tried out the port-a-potties and nearly got into a fight with a Brazilian girl who said something racist about me being Japonesa. But Leroy just told me to pee and ignore her. I guess I got a bit defensive and aggro. I walked home at first with Lauren and Natalia, which was a lot of drunken girl talk… Somehow, and I don’t know how, everyone got separated again. Delene and I stick together like glue, so we ended up as a group of three with Leroy, who has a supernatural sense of direction. So, I let all navigational worries aside and enjoyed the walk, which was along a parallel street to the parade (still going on since there were many blocos in back of us) filled with street vendors. We ate acarajé, pastéis (pastries), queijo coalho (white cheese on a stick grilled over charcoal), and I don’t know what else. The three mile walk was brutal on my neck, what with my bathing suit and abadá being halter tops. I actually ended up with wounds on my neck and chest - Carnaval battle scars to match my mosquito bites. When we saw the Banco do Brasil sign, we knew we were close! We got home, dumped our disgusting sneakers in the bathroom near the door (the 3rd bathroom, mainly what the maid uses to clean). We showered and then hung out in the living room, but Delene was falling asleep in her chair. Do we really have 4 more nights of this???

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Photos

Timbalada
Everyone is ready to go to Timbalada!

Louis Models Timbalada
Goodness, does that shirt really have a beach umbrella on it? We have to wear that???

Risk
Meli must be losing...

False Start
On Delene.

"Before" Photos
Meli and Delene getting ready for the photo shoot.

Comments

[sam]

nice abada...
"spongebob squarepants" but not... :D can't wait til boracay!