I can’t remember what it’s like to wear normal clothes—as far as I’m concerned, Feng has always put on a polka dot skirt to go out and even my micro shorts feel too formal.
My mum used to hate confetti when I was a kid because she claimed you could never get rid of it. Well, let me introduce you to glitter.
Glitter is my new nightmare.
It doesn’t wash off easily, and on top of our own glitter, we collect some more from the crowd all day long—Carnival is the opposite of physical distancing, you’re never less than two feet from a perfect stranger also covered in glitter. I’m finding glitter on undies I didn’t even wear this week. Hell, even my soap bar is suspiciously shiny. I’ve just noticed freaking glitter on a CLEAN alcohol wipe, fresh out of the pack, how is this possible?
Meh. It’s Carnival. Weirder things happen.
Like getting up to join the Bloco do Sargento Pimenta—that’s Sgt. Pepper—a band that offers a mix of Beatles and Brazilian music classics. They rock, and this is one of our favourite blocos, we discovered them in 2018.
Now, this bloco was at the Flamengo Park again, and again it was completely packed and very hot. But fun.
Holy shit, we’re exhausted. Everybody kind of is. Getting around during Carnival is complicated because so many streets are closed, so many subway lines are packed, so many blocos gather or march from morning to night.
We headed to Copacabana, where blocos are typically milder and smaller—don’t want to scare the rich tourists away… In fact, most people were just enjoying the beach.
The guys took the subway back to the Airbnb and I walked. We thought that was it for the day, except… not quite.
When I finally managed to get through, Feng and I joined the bloco, still ongoing.
One more day of Carnival tomorrow. I don’t want it to end but I don’t think I could handle more of it.
[…] He will probably deny it, but I clearly remember hearing Feng talking to a banana, one night in Rio. […]