Second day in Rio, part 5–Carnaval

Tijuca continued their assault on the Sambódromo, and the floats just got wilder and wilder.
This little number here was a real eye-popper. The first half was a giant psychedelic mushroom with little elves rising from the top in rhythm.

This was followed by two 25 foot tall, bald, topless fairies. Fantastic bodies, but glitter for hair, and slightly menacing expressions. Compare their size to the operator on the ground and the people gawking from the camarotes. On the heels of the dollhouse, this was also visually thrilling and unsettling. The giant multicolored pixies were moving up and down in time to the music as well, due to the people on the float producing sympathetic vibrations, but in other cases from a hidden operator inside. I was beginning to feel the vibe of the Rio designers, and how it compared with Carnival that I’m familiar with in Mobile and New Orleans: gaudy, wild, scary, funny, mysterious, otherworldly. But Rio had them beat, hands down. This was serious, fun and fantastic entertainment.

By now, I had sorted out the three types of Carnival that I had experienced:

  • Mobile/New Orleans: Parade in Streets. Throw Stuff. Have exotic floats and costumed riders. No music, per se. Celebrity riders and officiants in New Orleans.
  • Salvador: Parade in Streets. Throw stuff occasionally, but not as a centerpiece. T-shirts as uniform in a private parade. Incredible music, fabulous music, unbelievable music, party music: the reason for the parade.
  • Rio: Parade in confined area, though smaller festivities are held city-wide. Don’t throw stuff. Floats and costumes with riders, but 50-fold the number of participants. Floats and costumes far more elaborate, and choreography a cornerstone. Music vital, but limited to one original samba theme sung continuously during the performance. The songs are written for each school, each year. Celebrities pepper each school’s performance.

See? It’s a little mix-and-match kind of a thing. But once again, Brazil’s Carnaval was superior to Mobile/New Orleans in its orderliness, not only from the participants, but from the crowd as well. This was not a wholesale drunkathon like I pictured.

Here’s a famous pair of Brazilians. I don’t know who, or if they’re linked or what, but each school had these power couples as an important part of their parades. Notice the Tijuca flag. This group was founded in 1931, and is one of the oldest in Rio. It is named for the Tijuca forest, which abuts Rio in a particularly great way: total forest and nature blends into the botanical gardens, and it’s all within a manageable distance from the city folk.

The next float was populated by sexy girls, guys in top hat and tails, and a chandelier with human candles. I believe this float represented time, or elegant furnishings, one. I don’t believe I could keep up the payments on THAT kind of light fixture.



The display of butterflies was right on the heels of this float. I believe that butterfly collecting is very big in Brazil. Pictures made from their iridescent wings are commonplace in antique stores. I don’t know what the modern Brazilian thinks of the hobby, but I suspect it’s become un-PC by now with extinction and all.

Speaking of extinction, next came my favorite bunch of samba steppers in the Tijuca show, and probably the whole thing: the dinosaur guys! Their bony heads and tails produced a delightful synchronized wiggling with the music that was funny and mesmerizing.


The dinosaurs in the picture above look like Luciano Pavarotti and Placido Domingo belting out a big tune. In reality, they were probably just a couple of fun-loving Brazilians with a wife and two kids, who had a pleasant buzz. Their direct contact with the crowd was not only part of the big picture, but a neat micro-view as well. Each of the samba-stepper groups had this type: the real hams that brought a potentially homogenous group to life.

The last float was dedicated to art, and featured a gigantic Winged Victory surrounded by artists with canvases that rotated to reveal two different images. When they flipped them in unison it was dazzling. The twirly artists were flanked by statues, who were sometimes topless.


All of Tijuca’s blinding excess came to an end just as all the schools did: with the cleanup crew. I couldn’t help but flash to the end of “Peabody’s Improbable History” on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show.

It was at this point when Robo paused his video camera, turned to us, and said in a tone dry as sand, “I’ve seen better.” I thought I was gonna fall off the bleachers. But our new friends, somehow having no trouble understanding what was said, completely missed the hilarity of the understatement. They whipped around to look at Robo with faces that were very easy to read.

“No! No!” Robo protested, hands and video camera up. “I was kidding! Kee-deeeng!”
My gigantic Cheshire cat grin, with Pettus and Jean laughing in the background defused the situation instantly. Robo began to explain that we had never seen anything like this in our lives, which to our new pals must have sounded like “dilekns gop0-nslliosj lsdjpiagpj;l sgkjgjsgj”  delivered at lightning speed and covered in flop sweat.

Tijuca had moved on past Sector 7, to Sector 9, 11, 13, and finally out under the arches and into freedom–either to go home, or come back into the stands as many samba-steppers did. The next group up, beginning at the far end in about 20 minutes, was Imperatriz. A breather was required.