Every Day is Sunday

I found Jesus!

And if you are ever looking for him –or a stranger to make out with– I suggest you head to Rio de Janeiro.

That’s where Paul and I arrived in late February (apologies for the delay in posting this guest blog!), eager to join the Wertkinborns in commemorating Rio’s annual celebration/spectacle-of-debauchery known as “Carnival.” (Think Mardi Gras on steroids, with even more raucous Catholics.)

O Início (The Beginning)

We arrived to the Sheraton Rio, which we highly recommend. (If you are interested in the Starwood family of hotels, Bonnie Prober can provide additional information). There we joyfully reunited with Erin and Jeff, who greeted us with screams of “Carnival!”  

Language lesson #1: Carnival is one of those magical, multi-meaning words, akin to Aloha or Shalom. Not only does it mean, Happy Carnival!, it also means (depending on tone and facial expression) Hello! Goodbye! Let’s celebrate! Let’s make out! and Let’s celebrate by making out!

First things first…I needed time in the sun. Compared to the Cariocas (Rio natives), I look albino. So, we hit the pool and beach, where I quickly learned that the official fruit of Brazil is not, as the guidebooks claim, the papaya. It’s the Banana. Hammock. 

Holy speedos! In Rio, the boys are toned, tanned, and barely covered. Jeff coaxed me through this culture shock by introducing me to the caipirinha, Rio’s signature drink. It’s a delicious concoction of cachaça (very strong Brazilian liquor), lime, and sugar. Es Bon! 

In Rio, it doesn’t take long to experience sensory overload. It’s not just the cachaça. There’s the constant drumbeat of samba music blaring from somewhere (most often a car’s disproportionately large speaker system). Everywhere you look –aside from the favelas (hillside slums)– there’s stunning beauty. The best part is simply the huge green hills at the edge of Rio’s white beaches, which are peppered with warm, welcoming, thong- and speedo-clad people.

To experience the city’s best view, we headed up to Corcovado, the site where “Christ the Redeemer” is perched.  This 96-foot statute of J.C. is one of the seven wonders of the modern world.  It’s impressive.  But the view from Corcovado, which overlooks the entire city, is even better.

Erin and Jeff had arrived a few days earlier and were already well-assimilated.  They pointed out key sections of the city, told us about the local hot spots they’d discovered, the natives and fellow travelers they’d met, and the great food they sampled.  I told them about the Octo-mom.

After this strong beginning, the highlights of Carnival include….

Takin’ it to the streets…and the beach…and wherever else this pack of drunks are leading us. 

A key hallmark of Carnival is the bloco – or block party. Sometimes it’s a roving pack of revelers. Sometimes the pack is stationary. But the key ingredients are always the same: sweaty mass of people, beer, some sort of parade-style float (yes, a 1980’s hatch-back with a 500-pound speaker system strapped to the top qualifies), and a song. A song that is played over and over and over again. While Americans employ this as a torture tactic, Brazilians love hearing a samba song played, without interruption, hundreds of times in a row.  

We made like the locals and arrived to the bloco at the appointed hour (while nothing else in Rio appears to be particularly regimented, the blocos operate on a timely schedule). People assemble at bloco early to “concentrate.” This means drink. A bloco is not a good place to go if you “hate people” (as one of our companions, the lovely Mariza, disclosed when we found ourselves wedged, in 98-degree heat, between sweaty, barely-clothed, semi-drunk strangers while children sprayed fake snow on us.) The only reasonable thing to do upon arriving to a blanco is get the attention of one of the ubiquitous beer peddlers, chug a cold one, pray that no one in the crowd screams “fire,” and wait for the bloco to begin. Once everybody’s a couple of beers deep and go-time time arrives, the music starts, the “float” moves, and the sweaty mass starts dancing and shuffling along behind it. So, along with the girls (and boys) of Ipanema, we went walking. They took us to the beach — the favorite destination of Cariocas.

On Ipanema beach, many blocos converge.  Our favorite was one we spotted that was sponsored by both the Secretary of Health and the Secretary of Education.  What a worthwhile earmark!

Copacabana, Leblon, and Ipanema (Rio’s three main beaches) are packed with golden bodies, juice stands, and beer carts. You literally have to step over people to make your way toward the ocean. The adorable gays must wake up at dawn to secure the prime beach real estate, as those boys dominate the area closest to the water. The straight boys stick to the back of the beach where, away from the crowds, they can make out with strangers. Or funnel beers, which brings us to…

R.I.P. Corporate Jeff (2005-2009)

Something very strange has happened to our Jeff. Remember tie-wearing, schedule-creating, current events-reading, coffee-chugging, hygienic Jeff? He’s dead. Blame it on the Bossa Nova. Or the heat. But Jeff has given up coffee and news-reading (apparently, staying updated on the state of the U.S. economy is kind of a buzz killer). The nail in the coffin was watching as a group of young, inventive men invited us to drink beer from the well-used funnel they’d fashioned from the bare torso of a female mannequin. Jeff was the only one up for it. That’s right. Not Erin. Jeff.

International Incident! 

Rio isn’t nearly as dangerous as we’d heard. But we did have one robbery attempt. The bad news is that Jeff’s super cool “wallet chain” was broken. The good news is that Jeff thwarted a would-be villain and nothing was stolen. The really good news is that Jeff will no longer be walking around with a long, silver chain linking his wallet to his belt loop.

Bring on the heart attack!

Actually, the most dangerous thing about Rio is the food. Come hungry for meat. That’s what she said. And if you’re really hungry, go to Porcão, a great restaurant we tried that serves every kind of meat (and other organs) you can imagine. 

Everybody Samba! (Seriously, everybody.)  

The highlight of Carnival was going to the Sambadrome, where the city’s top Samba schools compete in an all-night, parade-style dance off. There are thousands of dancers, which is why the Sambodromo lasts from 10pm until 7am.

As you may have heard, this was a banner year at the Sambadrome. History was made. And we were there to bear witness. Brazilian model Dani Sperle wore a samba outfit that covered just 1.2 inches of her body, breaking the world record for least amount of clothing worn.

http://pollianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/dani-sperle-breaks-carnaval-record.html

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2009/02/23/international/i114128S75.DTL

Many thanks to our “cousin” Bret Rosen and our local hosts Zack and Carolina for getting us amazing seats. Here are some great pictures from the night we attended the Sambadrome.

http://www.sacbee.com/static/weblogs/photos/2009/02/019970.html

Abrigada, Erin & Jeff!

We departed Rio on Ash Wednesday. For lent, Jeff has decided to give up practicing law. Erin decided to give up sitting at a desk all day. Yes, it was completely obnoxious.

The Wertkinborns are doing great. They’ve never looked better or more in love. Though we all miss them dearly, they are compiling great stories and incredible pictures. Let’s just hope another camera isn’t lost.

***

Carnival in Rio de Janeiro is an incredible spectacle.   Imagine 5 million people who all dedicate themselves to dancing the samba and having fun for an entire week.  It doesn’t matter if you are young or old, rich or poor, gringo or local, everyone goes wild during Carnival. 

We were lucky enough to enjoy the most amazing party in the world with an amazing group of friends.  Our friends Brin and Paul flew down from Washington DC, Bret came in from Buenos Aires, and Marisa arrived from Los Angeles.  The six of us took to the streets of Rio de Janeiro and had the time of our lives.

The most famous tourist spot in Rio de Janeiro is the Christ Redeemer Statute.  Shortly after Brin and Paul arrived in Rio we all headed off to visit to our favorite Hebrew.  The awe inspiring statue stretches 120-foot tall . . . Holy Christ that’s one big Jesus!

Looking down on the city from the Christ statute was the only time all week that Rio actually seemed peaceful.

We decided to start the Carnival off with a bang at Rio Scenarium, a club in a trendy neighborhood of Rio called Lapa.  But the night was almost a disaster.  On the way to the club, as we were walking through a busy street party, Jeff felt a strong pull on his wallet.  To prevent pick-pocketers, Jeff wears a chain on his wallet that attaches to his belt loop.  Some guy grabbed the chain and started running in the opposite direction.  Luckily the thief only managed to break the chain and the wallet remained safely in Jeff’s pocket.  Crisis averted!

We were in high spirits after surviving the pick-pocket attempt, but when we arrived at the club we found our evening again imperiled.  There was a HUGE line to get into the club – probably 1,000 people spanning two city blocks.  Jeff and Paul tried unsuccessfully to make generous offers of cash to the bouncers.  Then Brin and Erin went to work.  If you know anything about the fabulous duo, then you know this story has a happy ending.  After only about 20 minutes, they made friends with some locals with connections in the bar and we waltzed right in.

People in Rio know how to have a good time.  The club featured two bands and a DJ playing samba dance hits.  We drank Capirihas and danced all night.  It was nice to see Erin and Brin up to their old tricks. 

During Carnival millions of people take to the streets in informal, around-the-clock street parties called “blocos.”  Most people think that blocos are the soul of Rio’s carnival because they are free and anyone can participate.  They usually consist of a band playing on top of a vehicle, followed by many enthusiastic people dressed in costumes, drag, or just a Speedo.  It’s insanely crowded and hot. Luckily the locals chase after you with their wheeled inventions selling you $1 beers to make the experience a little more tolerable. 

We decided to escape the street for a few minutes and follow the bloco while walking along Copacabana beach.  We ran into a guy with the most interesting contraption — a maniquin beer funnel.  Beer has never tasted so sweet . . . enough said.

If you’ve seen pictures from Rio’s carnival, odds are that you saw pictures from the Sambodromo parade.  This spectacular parade is the highlight of Rio’s Carnival.  Each year, the 12 best samba schools in Rio de Janeiro light up the night when they march in the Sambodromo parade. 

Its almost impossible to get good Sambodromo tickets – its kind of like trying to get lower-bowl tickets for the Super Bowl.  But through a friend of Bret’s, we were able to score six amazing tickets right in the center of the parade route.  

The parade contest is fiercely competitive. For the 3 or 4 blog readers who care about these things, here’s how the Sambodromo works.  The top 12 “Samba Schools” march on Carnival Sunday and Monday, six per night.  The school (or club) selects a theme and a song for their performance.  Each of the 12 schools typically features about 5,000 performers, and spends the entire year designing, rehearsing and refining for their 80 minutes in the spotlight.  Some samba schools reportedly budget around $1 million USD for Carnival preparations.  The winning school usually has the most intricate float, and the most elaborate and wild costumes (complete with sparkling sequins and colorful feathers).

And, of course, it wouldn’t be Carnival without a gratuitous photo our what our UK friends call the world’s greatest bums. 

We were lucky enough to see the winning school.  After almost 7 hours of non-stop samba dancing, we called it quits and arrived back at the hotel just in time to see the sun come up.

There is no direct corollary in English for the word “favela,” but the closest approximation is “shantytown” or maybe “urban poor neighborhood.”  Favelas started to crop up about 100 years ago when thousands of freed black slaves and rural Brazilians came to Rio in search of work.  There was no low-income housing available, and so they went into the hills and squatted on public lands.  The government didn’t do anything about it, and soon the squatters began constructing semi-permanent and permanent housing structures.  Currently, 1.5 million people live in these illegal settlements in Rio.

We wanted to see what the Favellas were like, but we were advised not to go on our own.  So we signed on with a tour company to take a “Favela tour.”  At first we were uncomfortable with the idea of taking a tour of a poor neighborhood and taking pictures as if we were at a zoo.  But we found the tour both educational, edifying, and a great way to see an important part of the city that the government and the local tourist board doesn’t want people to see.  We learned a lot about the people of Rio and felt safe and secure the entire time. 

According to our guide, nearly 20% of the population in Rio live in favelas.  Yet, the government makes no effort to regulate these areas.  Most maps of Rio don’t list the different favelas.  There are no official roads, no government schools, and the people in the favelas do not pay taxes.

People who live in favelas typically rely on a home-made water supply and sewer system, and they steal electricity from the power lines with a gato (a ‘cat’ hook that’s thrown onto the electric supply to siphon power).  I asked our guide why the government continues to provide free electricity to the favelas.  “The government has no choice,” she explained. “If they shut the electricity completely it would cause a riot in the city.”

The poor in Brazil don’t take their fate lying down.  Instead they scratch out whatever kind of life they can for themselves.  With little opportunities in education or work, most of the people in the favelas sell items on the street, drive cabs, clean houses, work in construction, deal drugs, or go into prostitution.    

The favelas are controlled by local gangs involved in the local drug trade.  There are three major gangs in Rio that compete for control of the favelas: the Friends of Friends (Amigos dos Amigos, or ADA), Red Command (Commando Velho CV) and the Third Command (Terceiro Comando).  According to our guide, the drug lords keep tight control of the favelas.  Apparently the gangs disdain crime and violence among the people in a favela because it brings the attention of the police, and so there is very little crime between inhabitants of the favelas.  The drug lords mediate disputes that may arise between inhabitants.  It sounded like the stories we used to hear about the Mafia in certain neighborhoods of New York City.  

Graffeti showing this area controlled by A.D.A

We first visited the Rocinha favela, which is one of the most developed favelas in Brazil.  It has a bank, a Bob’s Burgers (like McDonald’s), a newspaper, and its own TV station.  We also visited a smaller favela called Vila Canoas.

There is a huge disparity between the rich and poor in Rio, and we were glad that we got to see how both sides live. 

We came to Rio to experience Carnival, but Carnival is not the only thing to experience in Rio.  To see all sides of this fascinating city we arrived a few days before Carnival and stayed in the bohemian neighborhood of Santa Theresa. 

On our first night we wandered around Santa Theresa looking for a place to eat.  Typically, we’ll get restaurant recommendations from our guide books, hostels, or fellow back-backers.  In Rio, we found a guy in a red apron and chef’s hat.

Our friend was standing in the middle of a dark street in Santa Theresa.  We were a little skeptical because of his outfit, but he was friendly and spoke a little English and so we took his recommendation to try the pizza at a nearby restaurant.  The restaurant had a nice view of the city and a cool artsy feel to it, and so we took a table outside and listened to local musicians who were playing for tips. 

After only one night we could tell that Rio has a different type of energy than other places we visited in South America.  It is raw and artistic. . . we loved it.

The next day we again we ran into our friend with the red apron and red hat.  We thanked him for his restaurant recommendation from the previous night, and asked him if he any other ideas for tonight.  He told us about a Masquerade party at a club downtown.  We annointed him our Rio sherpa and dutifully followed his advice.  

We took the tram down to the Masquerade party. The Santa Theresa tram, or “bondinho,” isn’t the most practical way to travel around Rio, but it’s certainly the most fun.  The tram slowed enough for us to jump on, and we made our way down the winding roads of Santa Theresa toward the City. 

The tram system in Rio is more than 100 years old, and we felt like we were in back in the 1920s as we rode the tram across the old aqueduct system high above the city.  The operators had to stop a few times because the tram kept disconnecting from the electric lines, but it was well worth the 35 cent fare.

Our sherpa nailed it again – the Masquerade party was fantastic.  We bought masks and got our first taste of the Carnival as we danced the night away.   

We ran into our sherpa one more time and, after we thanked him profusely for telling us about the masquerade party, he gave us a list of street parties to attend during Carnival. 

As we were walking away we started to wonder whether our sherpa was real or imaginary?  Was he a figment of our sun-soaked imagination?  Would anyone would believe that our sherpa in Rio was a guy who walks the streets of Santa Theresa wearing a red hat and apron?