Carnaval in Bahia
Salvador, Brazil
The word ‘festive’ does not even begin to describe Brazil during the time of Carnaval. Before I even stepped off the plane, I experienced the excitement that Carnaval generates when a section of passengers on my connecting flight from Rio to Salvador started the party prior to it’s official opening. On the most exhilarating flight of my life, I joined the coach-class rhythm section in gearing up for the world’s biggest fiesta. Exhibiting the warmth that I would regularly find in most Brazilians, other passengers noticed my confusion with the words to the recently released songs for this year’s Carnaval and instructed me to the point that I could actually get by – saying quite a bit about their patience.
In between songs, my new friends reassured me that, indeed, Salvador’s Carnaval is the best in Brazil and that people from all over the country flock there to be part of the most authentic celebration of them all. Two weeks earlier, I had never even heard of a city in Brazil outside of Rio and Sao Paulo and laughed nervously when my friends wondered why, if I was going to go all that way, that I wasn’t going to the more heralded bash in Rio instead. As the wheels touched down skittishly on the runway, I was primed to get the party started.
In an unfamiliar land, I was both comforted and captivated by my first Brazilian sunset as it dipped below the Atlantic Ocean while a gentle, warm breeze swirled through the rear windows of the taxi. Greeted by a friend at the apartment that I would share with six people for the next two weeks, I relaxed a little bit from my cross-continental trip. My friend, who also made the trip from Boston, reserved my space with her friend, a teacher in a nearby Pan-American school. The American teacher’s roommate was a colleague in the school, a local guy who would soon become my roommate, friend, local guide, and medic for my two weeks in Salvador.
Unbeknownst to me previously, Salvador da Bahia is a city of vast historic and cultural significance. For some 300 years it functioned as a central figure in the sugar trade, importing Africans to perform arduous labor. Today, the impact of these actions initiated over 450 years ago can be seen in the densely populated African community that accounts for approximately 90% of the population of Salvador. For a traveler, a must-see performance and absolute jewel is that of the capoeira, a spectacle dominated by rhythmic drumming and dancing in which the colorful dancers square off as foes, flying across the stage like world-class gymnasts with an impressive arsenal of movements. Glancing at the program later, I learned that the unique combination of skills, complimented by various exercises involving fire and cult-like chanting, was developed by the slaves in order that they could prepare for their escape to freedom without alarming the plantation owners of their intentions.
Staying thirty or so miles outside the heart of downtown Salvador enabled my friends and I to retreat from the festivities during the day and to relax in a different world on the finest beaches within reasonable reach of the town. Furthermore, the bus or cab ride stoked our fires of anticipation as we could hardly wait to be part of the country’s best party. Arriving on the outskirts of the city, my heart raced at a feverish pace to meet the intensity of the environment. Streets were lined with vendors warming shish kebobs and other questionable variations of beef on a stick, adolescent boys hawking cans of beer from their coolers, and well-dressed restaurateurs waving at crowds to take a respite from the hysteria. Coming upon the pulsating rhythm of the crowd, I noticed the main avenue lined by thousands of predominantly partygoers who outlined the parade of floats, termed trio eletricos. These trucks carried Brazil’s most-celebrated musicians in front of roped-off groups of upper-class partygoers who paid hundreds of dollars for t-shirts that gained them the privilege of reveling behind their favorite artists.
My group balked at the high price tag (ranging from $60-300) of near-intimacy with the in-crowds, so we remained on the periphery for the most part. By not joining one group, we enjoyed more freedom to hear a variety of music and flow amongst the crowd to wherever the action was. During the first night of Carnaval, my group walked the entire parade route several times to soak up as much of the scene as we could – and get some exercise after bumming it on the beach all day. The crowd consisted of a disproportionate number of adolescents and grandparents. Having been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I expected more of a college party scene rather than a family affair. It amazed me to see so many groups of teenagers participating, albeit less promiscuously than those who play in New Orleans – a little less. Grannys escorted younger children through the crowds at all hours of the night, not with stern looks on their faces but appearing as joyful as the kids. Truly, Carnaval in Salvador is fun for all ages.
Sometimes that fun was not clean though. Squeezing through small spaces in the crowd and momentarily trapped against a wall, I narrowly missed a bloody confrontation apparently involving two gangs of boys. Unfortunately, outbreaks such as these were all too common during the week, requiring swift action from the Military Police who could be seen pushing through the crowds hurriedly, clubs in hand, toward some mischief. Looking around, I felt some comfort in the fact that I was a head taller than most of the people around me, standing with a like-sized group on my side.
In spite of those occasional episodes, people were generally good-willed. Another demographic component of the experience could be observed immediately in that few outsiders came to Salvador for Carnaval. Tourists stood out comically in their Panama Jack hats, emblematic t-shirts, and Tevas. Few of these such items appeared and the mystery turned into a scavenger hunt, merely for added entertainment. As I was to later find out, most tourists consider Rio and nowhere else when making their Carnaval plans.
A more relaxing way to enjoy Carnaval is to pay a small cover, sit in an outdoor bar along the parade route, obtain beverages by whistling at a nearby waiter, chat leisurely with friends, and observe the myriad festivities from a comfortable distance. Fortunately, if you do feel compelled to join the crowd for any reason, that option certainly can be exercised as well. Without any threat of violence, I soaked in the atmosphere as if I were at a sporting event – detached from the primary action yet still able to experience the excitement of being so close to the action. My group settled in this way, enraptured in the pulsating music and the roaring crowd, and sipped on caiparinhas until about 2am (no one really cares much for time when the party flat-out ignores it). As the crowd thinned slightly, we joined it and paraded along until the end of the route, taking jolly photos and dancing our versions of samba until we encountered the end some three hours later. Exhausted, I don’t remember how we returned home in the early morning.
After some hard sleeping and light eating (my stomach was still adjusting), I set out for my final night of Carnaval. This night would be different from all others in that I would spend it with a new group of people in another part of town, one which I was not aware of previously. The Pelurinho, or ‘Pelo’ as it is commonly called, is the oldest part of the town, where slaves were auctioned and tortured several hundred years ago. Today, the area is packed with merchants, restaurants, and a small town square. In the town center, a small parade would travel the circuit every hour or so (schedules were not too important), attracting locals and tourists alike to the point that fifty or more people eventually were gallivanting through the street to the rhythmic drumming accompaniment. The Pelo had a small-town feel noticeably distinct from today’s primary business district in that the hysteria seemed more controlled, more civilized. I wondered why I hadn’t been taken sooner by my roommate.
Stopping for a bite in a café, I felt the buzz of Carnaval from the crowd but was in no way overwhelmed by it. Nowhere near the primary festival (well, anywhere that a low-budget traveler would go) could I get a reprieve from the furious intensity of the world’s biggest party, however, in the Pelo, I could actually gather myself for a final all-night surge. Wandering aimlessly through masses of people, I happened upon another small-town square where people impossibly squeezed into the cracks to catch a glimpse of the oncoming floats, or at least hear them coming. Ambling along, I realized that I had completely lost my friends and felt as though I were at my camp’s swimming pool without having anyone’s arm to raise at buddy call. Well, it was time to find my way back. Besides, I couldn’t wait to tell someone about it all.
