On day 2 of Carnival, there were no less than 75 blocos scheduled all over the city.
On Friday, at 9:30 p.m., we were probably three of the many, many, many Cariocas and Brazilians getting ready for Carnival. For us, it was starting at the Sambódromo.
We’ll be okay, I thought, crossing the tunnel of death once again on the way back. Rio gets a lot easier once you just embrace it.
The city no longer feels dangerous or confusing, although many aspects of life in Bahia remain a mystery—but that’s fairly normal, Brazil is often puzzling to me.
Suddenly, there were tons of things we wanted to do even though an hour earlier, we didn’t have plans for that last day in Salvador.
After ten minutes in Pelourinho, two things became clear. First, if you’re ever going to set a meeting place in the area, don’t say, “by the old church.” Pelourinho is 40% historical monuments, 10% souvenir shops and 50% old churches.
On Saturday night, for the first day de pré-carnaval, Avenida Oceânica was being swept away by a tidal wave of people. Suddenly, the endless beer supply made sense.
Banco do Brasil was boarded up first. We were walking back from the supermarket late…
“Wait, let me get that straight… you’re buying me roses for the first time in twelve years and I have to offer them to a mermaid by tossing them into the sea?”
This is our fifth trip to Brazil. I find Porto Alegre charming. Feng understands basic Portuguese. I think we’re ready for Salvador de Bahia.
An anecdote illustrating what I call “Brazilian logic,” i.e. things Brazilians make more complicated than they should be and mostly, that we don’t fully understand because we’re dumb foreigners.
There are cities within this city, lives lived so differently that it’s hard to believe there are only blocks apart.
You “oi” people to greet them. I don’t know, it sounds cool, right?
“Good night Mark, you gotta sleep now.” “Why?” “… Because it’s way past midnight and…
Pelotas’s got a sweet tooth. The city is famous for the doces de Pelotas, dozens of different bite-size pastries.
“What made someone stop in Chuy and declare ’this is it, this is where I want to spend the rest of my life?’”
Rio de Janeiro is the bimbo, the cheerleader and São Paulo is the not-so-pretty grunge kid with a quirky, artsy and rebellious soul, moody like the unreliable weather.
There were people everywhere, spilling onto neighbouring side streets, marching downhill and I just couldn’t see the end of it.
Carnival and the crowd of revellers had taken over the city centre—or rather, the city centre had been handed over to the people, taken over by craziness of the event.
Anticipation built up all week. The atmosphere was electric, like before a storm. It finally exploded Friday evening.
Here are the people of Rio de Janeiro, a collection of candid shots taken all over the city during the week before Carnival!
From the top of the Pão de Açúcar, you can really appreciate how crowded Copacabana is, how tall the Corcovado Hill, how long the beaches are.
Rio de Janeiro isn’t an easy city. Safety is a real issue and if one street is fine, the other around the corner may not be.
This is the miscellaneous FYI info that won’t be on the postcard’s caption and this is what travel guides won’t tell you.