For tips on getting to Carnival next year, check my handy-dandy How to Get to Carnival Guide on the Fly Brother blog.
Shoot me your comments, questions, suggestions, requests, or just a shout-out: flybrother [et] rocketmail [daht] kom.
*Not the original musical selection, this song is a fusion of styles associated with samba and the Brazilian martial art of capoeira, representing both Rio and Salvador Carnivals. I just ain't feel like re-recording fifteen minutes of talking.
Carnival, the annual celebration of debauchery preceding 40 days of disciplined abstinence leading up to Easter, is in full swing and last year, I posted tips on how to become part of the party. Well, if you can't make it this year, or you'd like to see how things go down in Brazil before you go down, you can catch live streaming video of the six-day bombastic madness in Salvador da Bahia, and the blinding glitz of the two-day samba competitions in Rio and São Paulo (yes, they have Carnival there, too):
Jam with Radio Raheem-sized sound systems day and night in Salvador, from this afternoon through Tuesday night.
It's that time of year again where folks in Latin America, Louisiana, and the Mediterranean are prepping for Carnival, which starts next week in most places. In Brazil, the Carnival Muse competition is underway, where judges select a winner from among representatives of each samba school to open the Rio Carnival parade. Unfortunately, it's one of the few times Brazil's darker sisters appear on national television. Fortunately, it's hot.
(If you have no patience for Portuguese, you can skip the interviews and catch the dancing in the last 45 seconds of the video.)
Notting Hill Carnival, London's largest celebration, started 45 years ago among the city's burgeoning Afro-Caribbean community. Peaking at 2 million attendees, the party gets started on the last Sunday of August with parades and truck-sized sound systems scattered throughout the Notting Hill neighborhood and centered on Portobello Road (of flea market and Bedknobs and Broomsticks fame), and continues all day on "Bank Holiday" Monday. Costumed West Indian carnival groups originating in Trinidad and Guyana make up the parades, with the sound systems pumping pan-African rhythms from reggae and calypso to salsa and house. Unfortunately, since many of "us" don't know how to behave, the police have clamped down on the event and often restrict the movement of crowds to certain streets, creating a tight, volitile environment (tons of people + tanks of alcohol + police = volitile environment). Still, it was nice to get my wine ("wind" wit a Trini accent) on for a couple hours on a rare warm and sunny summer afternoon in the English capital.
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One of the traditions of Carnival here in Colombia is the throwing of corn starch and water on unsuspecting revelers. This is the first time in three years that someone has succeeded in tagging me. Leave it to three intrepid Colombianas down from New Jersey...they had been plotting from the moment they saw me.
So you want to get in on the Carnival action but don't know where to start?
Find out when. First, you need to get the dates cornered before embarking on any pre-Lenten debauchery. True Carnivals - be they in Brazil, Italy, Spain, the Caribbean, or any other Catholic-leaning society - occur simultaneously, which means ix-nay on a year-round party binge (unless, of course, you count New York's West Indian Day parade, Calle Ocho in Miami, the Notting Hill joint, or innumerable other Carnival-esque activities that are not True Carnivals and can happen on any random date); you can only choose one event per year. Also, just like Easter, which is always forty days after Fat Tuesday, Carnival jumps around the calender every year: for 2011, the main events run from March 4th through the 8th, with celebrations kicking off a few days beforehand in spots like Salvador.
Find out who. You could choose to hit Carnival solo, which is always a good way to meet new people on the road. Still, heading down with an established group is the best way to maximize your enjoyment and minimize hassles. You may think of yourself as an independent person, but you can always break away from the group for some alone time while still taking advantage of discounted airfares and accommodations, and the knowledge of local tour guides or experienced travelers. Each year, in addition to traditional travel agencies, educational institutions and individuals arrange group packages with which anyone can become affiliated: Dr. Jan DeCosmo of Florida A&M University organizes inexpensive packages to Trinidad and Salvador under the banner of "Friends of the Caribbean" (email her at k d e c o s m o [a t] h o t m a i l [d o t] c o m for more information) and the closer it gets to the blessed event, impromptu travel groups spring up on websites like Meet-Up, Virtual Tourist, BootsnAll, and Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree Forum.
Part 3 of a 3-part series on lesser-known, but no-less-hot, Carnival celebrations.
On the tiny Caribbean island of Trinidad, four-hundred years of recorded history under various European flags and immigration from the four corners of the globe have shaped and molded the look and feel of Trinidad and Tobago Carnival into one of the most distinctive and flavorful events in the English-speaking world. Like Mardi Gras in New Orleans, TnT Carnival stems from French colonization (though Spain held title over the place back then) and has incorporated elements from Africa, Europe, Venezuela, India, and North America; these elements, in turn, were exported throughout the West Indies and overseas, including London's famous Notting Hill Carnival.
Besides the obvious visual stimulation of a scrumdiddlyumptious backside winin' to some soca, TnT Carnival is an ocular feast of traditional costumed characters that make the Disney Main Street Parade look like an elementary school Christmas pageant. Observe:
The Fancy Indian (based on traditional Plains Indian dress from the modern-day US and Canada): Photo by caribbeanfreephoto
The Moko Jumbie (derived from the Congolese tradition of village protectors who could see trouble before it arrived...basically, security guards): Photo by Withthejameses
The Midnight Robber (inspired by the traditional African storyteller, the griot, who tells tall tales about his exploits, adventures, and prowess...lookin like a piyimp):
Dame Lorraine (a playful version of a typical French aristocratic lady, with her big-booty self): Photo by longdistancelady
Jabs (French patois for "diable" - devil - these firestarters come in various shades and manifestations - wings and sharp teeth and such; as you can see, they start young, the little hellions): Photo by dexout
Cow Folk (based on, well, cows): Photo by shawnking99
*The word "mas" is short for "masquerade" and is used to denote the various costumed bands of revelers during TnT Carnival.
Part 2 of a 3-part series on lesser-known, but no-less-hot, Carnival celebrations.
Growing every year by word of mouth, the Carnaval de Barranquilla on the Caribbean coast of Colombia is more an expression of folklore and regional culture than random debauchery and merriment. In 2003, the festival was named a Masterpiece of Oral and Intangible Patrimony of Humanity by UNESCO, the cultural body of the United Nations. Instead of an ever-shifting theme, this party features an array of signature dances that embody the synthesis of cultures that make up Colombian society, each with a particular set of costumes and its own rhythmic beat. Here are three of the most popular dances performed at Carnaval:
The national dance of Colombia, the cumbia marries the gyrating hands of the Spanish, the swiveling hips of the Africans, and the steadfast foot-shuffle of the Indigenous peoples in a pas de deux of civilized seduction.
The costume of the garabato supposedly symbolizes life and death, while the movements indicate nothing but a joy for living (and drinking).
More traditionally danced at night and in loincloths, the mapalé ("fish out of water") has probably remained the most unchanged from its cultural origins of all the Carnival dances.
Part 1 of a 3-part series on lesser-known, but no-less-hot, Carnival celebrations.
While most of the world looks to its more famous neighbor to the south as the epitome of pre-Lenten debauchery, Brazil’s first capital, Salvador da Bahia, is truly where you find Brazilian Carnival. Or, rather, Carnival for Brazilians. You don’t “see” Carnival in Salvador from the sidelines, you live it for six days and nights, non-stop, eating skewered street meat and getting no sleep. Billed as less commercial than Rio’s renowned festivities, Brazilians from north to south pounce on Salvador to dance in the shadow of their favorite pop stars, and maybe even have a quick fling or two with a hottie from another state. Still, Carnival in Salvador offers ample opportunities for both the innocent and the grown-and-sexy to enjoy the combination of history, culture, and unexplainable magic for which Brazil is known.
The colonial capital from 1549 to 1763 and once the largest slave port in Brazil, Salvador holds nearly three million people, over eighty-percent of whom having discernable African ancestry. And the music and dance and food originating here—more than in any other part of Brazil—is mainstream, not just a subculture. There is no place quite like Salvador. Some places come close: pre-Katrina New Orleans with music on every corner, Havana, where salsa and Santería share equal billing.
But no place captures the convergence of African and European cultures as thoroughly and inextricably as Salvador. The city government has even erected statues in homage to the “Orixá,” the Yoruba pantheon of deities celebrated in Brazilian Candomblé, Spanish Caribbean Santería, and Haitian Vodou, the syncretic religions created when slaves were “converted” to Catholicism. This cross-pollination forms the bedrock of Brazilian culture and is manifested at its purest in Salvador, where anyone can add his or her own flavor to the already rich stew. Carnival is a two-pronged event in Salvador. Family-friendly Pelourinho (“whipping-post” in Portuguese), the city’s church-steepled historic district perched high above the sea, plays host to traditional costumed bands of revelers and samba groups that parade over the cobblestones with interminable energy. Unlike Rio, with its ever-changing samba competition squeezed into a specially-designed stadium, Salvador’s groups remain true to historical themes—grandmothers swirling dervishly as hoop-skirted “Baianas,” white-robed men walking pensively as “Filhos de Gandhy” (Sons of Gandhi)—while be-feathered kids and muscle-toned capoeristas frolic in sunburnt plazas. Clowns and mimes cavort on strategically-placed stages, all-Asian percussion sections tap out lightning-fast sambas, up-and-coming ingénues coo bossa nova classics from back alley cafés, and body-painted teenagers grab unsuspecting tourists for a little shimmy-shaking. Starting mid-afternoon, Carnival gets down-and-dirty, literally, in the Cidade Baixa (Lower City), with the “trio eletrico” parades in the downtown district of Campo Grande, or along the beach at Barra and Ondina. Essentially gigantic boomboxes hitched to trucks, trios eletricos are moving concerts, topped by wildly popular Brazilian musical acts that belt out gyration-inducing “axé” music, a bawdy combination of samba and reggae. Timbalada, Olodum, Daniela Mercury, and Ivete Sangalo entertain hundreds of thousands of fans—often drunk, horny, or both—who squeeze into the streets around the trios and are known collectively as “pipoca” (popcorn) because usually the only range of motion in the crowd is vertical. Young people wear the most basic attire, bring nothing more expensive than a disposable camera, and stash their money safely in their undies; older partiers watch the action from bleachers along the sides, a decidedly less-raucous experience but one with a better-stocked bar than on the street.
Yes, I have been smack in the middle of all this humanity. Yes, it's the lick!
Still, the intimate contact of thousands of bodies under an infectious rhythm conjures up a natural high that keeps the place rocking until daybreak. Should an unexpected rainstorm arise, clothes come off and the party don’t stop. You, like the Brazilians around you, just let the wet cleanse you of the sweat.
For the next week, in most of the Catholic-influenced world, millions are enjoying the last few days of fleshly delights before the forty-day pre-Easter fasting and sacrifices of Lent. These celebrations, aptly named Carnival (or "farewell to the flesh," either because of the religious ban on meat during Lent, or because it's the time to indulge in uncharacteristic behavior), have melded cultures and traditions the world over into Earth's biggest, raunchiest, off-the-hookest simultaneous party. Everyone knows about the thonged-and-feathered lovelies of Rio, the chiaroscuro masques of Venice, and the beads and breasts of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to introduce you to three other events - just as bold, loud, and unchaste as their better-known cousins. And then, I'll help you plan your trip for next year.
As Carnival preparations are now in full swing - the blessed event starts February 21 - Rio's busy selecting this year's Carnival Muse, a dancer from one of the competing samba schools who will open the parade. This young lady right here, a 25-year-old professional dancer representing the very popular Mangueira samba school, put it on 'em: the interviewer can't stop complimenting her, the crowd loves her, and one of the judges (a drag queen, I think) even breaks protocol to praise the whole shebang. The short interview is book-ended by a bootylicious entrance and a winning show of her samba skills. All dude can say at the end is "pure beauty." One time for the sistas!
Fly Brother tackles international travel in unabridged, unapologetic, full and complete color. It's also the blog name of writer and educator Ernest White II, a tall, ruggedly handsome, erudite, occasionally delusional Black American male living in Brazil's largest city.
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