Wednesday evening, Duck bounced all around me like Tigger until we left for our very first Carnaval experience. He did all the research online and found two blocos (Carnaval block parties) on the other side of our neighborhood (Boston readers: think of our neighborhood as JP, so a smaller segment of the city, but still quite large) that were starting about 2 hours apart: one at 5pm and one at 7pm. I got home from registering for my free Portuguese classes at the University (!) a little after 5. Duck was so eager to go that we got in an Uber and arrived around 5:30.
The street was quiet. Vendors in their bright yellow “Vendedor Oficial” vests stood behind their wooden carts full of ice and beverages topped with a yellow umbrella, and/or a wooden T that holds leis (for men) and flower crowns (for women). We were wondering whether we missed the “parade” but then our excellent powers of deduction showed us that the vendors’ wares were full, the streets were clean, and the municipal cleanup crew were also sitting back, doing nothing. It must not have started yet, we reasoned (after a fruitless conversation with a vendor who I think was trying to explain Brazilian time to us), and so we went exploring.
We wandered past a Jewish cemetery, got some snacks, poked around another livreria, and eventually went down to the other Carnaval site around 6 or 6:30. Again, we watched vendors set up and people start to trickle in; a band did sound-check and then recorded music started to play spottily. Around 7, the official start time of this bloco, people really did start to come and by 8 it was a bit crowded, but the band still had not started. There were lots of teenagers and lots of people wearing glittery eye makeup that Duck joked about getting for me (I gave him my best withering stare). In all, it was pretty boring, frankly – and not even that good for people-watching. Around 8:30 we gave up and headed home because we are old people (also partly because I had a chat date with my cousins, which I try never to miss)!
To be honest, I’m not that into Carnaval. The chaos and the drinking and the costumes – it sounds a lot like Purim, or Halloween, neither of which I have enjoyed for some time now. I met up with another BH Fulbrighter who is here with her family and she said someone scared her 13-year-old into not wanting anything to do with Carnaval but she is going to insist that he experience at least something, which I think is wise. In the US, we don’t get much exposure to it unless you live in New Orleans, so it’s this big mystery, but most of the people I’ve talked to here are not that into it and just estão a toa (doing nothing). I imagine we’ll give the one in our neighborhood on Sunday a go.
In the meantime, we’re going to try again to go to synagogue tonight! We might also come across a bloco while downtown. For now, here is a picture of me working super hard in terrible conditions (before we went swimming this afternoon):
Horntoes in Brazil 