Tag Archives: Salvador

Second day in Salvador–part 2

How cool is this house?  How annoying is that graffiti? Oy vey! The graffiti! Salvador didn’t seem to be quite as rife with it as Rio was, but it was still everywhere. On overpass supports and such, there were often elaborate pictures and designs painted there, and many were fantastic and beautiful. That’s really a different thing altogether than the graffiti above, isn’t it? But it kind of begs the question: “What is ‘acceptable’ public art?” Did some official in the government of Salvador allow the overpass artists to paint unmolested? Does somebody regulate that kind of thing? Did the government know about it, or was it a surreptitious creation? In the case of the graffiti above, it could just as well be something by Basquiat, but it’s still graffiti.

On this little excursion, Jean wasn’t there because of her massage with Luciana. Carol was going to show us her gym, the Villa Forma, which was extensively renovated by her architect friend, Arilda Cardoso. The gym is in an old colonial-era building that is incredibly beautiful, especially now that it’s restored. Note the building next door that has not been restored. It’s almost like a bad Photoshop job.

Arilda’s modus operandi is to use an eclectic array of not only local materials, but many recycled materials, and incorporate them in an artful fashion with as much of the original interior as possible. Some stairs were colonial, but the ones that weren’t were treated differently, one with a random adornment of tiles.

Tiles are everywhere in Brazil, and I was totally enamored with the look. Arilda’s combinations were fantastic, because of the total random placement. It made them blend with the natural elements of the place.

In the pictures above, you see the entrance viewed from the aerobics studio that is above the pool. The pool and aerobics studio above are shown on the right.
By the time we finally went in the front door from the courtyard, I had already shot several pictures. The two young Brazilian hardbodies working the desk informed me that I couldn’t take pictures without permission. I meekly put the camera in duffel position #2 and continued to gawk at the imaginative renovation.

Carol, who is from Indiana, politely doesn’t take any shit off of anybody. She did or said something, and within a few minutes, I had permission to take pictures. Carol remarked that it’s amazing how low level people with a modicum of power usually wield it. At any rate, her incredible Portuguese, and my usage of “beleza” and “suado” won us the keys to the kingdom.

Here are those stairs I mentioned, and here’s Robo not only making me feel bad about myself with his fitness, but being in a terrible backlight situation. It’s just like him to do that.

First night at Carnaval, Salvador–part 1

We got back to the house from eating blackeyed pea fritters, and I chugged another couple of glasses of water. Since there was no Meyers’s Rum to be had in all of Bahia, Robo and I had settled on Bacardi Gold made in Brazil. Mixed with club soda and a bunch of lime, Meyers’s is pretty dern good. The Bacardi was a sad substitute, and drinking it kind of creeped me out sort of, with my tender gullet and all. But it became the staple drink. Kind of. At any rate, we packed it up to take with us to Carnaval.

One thing about the limes: they don’t have lemons in Brazil. Only limes. And they’re dirt cheap. They’re called limão, I think. Carol had a grocery bag full of them in the bottom of her pantry. It was like the motherlode to me, because I love limes. LOVE!!!! (exclamation marks with hearts instead of dots)

Everybody began to prepare for the trip over to Bahia Flats for our first night of Carnaval. This was going to be strictly observation, but observation is pretty great in itself. Especially when you’re shedding water at a quart an hour. I was trying to imagine what it was going to be like the next night when we actually marched in one of the parades. Aiee!!

Carol had advised me about my camera earlier, so I decided not to take it this first night, and only use it sporadically on the next night. What the HELL was I thinking listening to my cousin the gol-durned Cassandra?! Okay, she has a right to be cautious. Everyone in the family except Patricia has been robbed in one form or another, and she’s rightfully vigilant. But I just wasn’t thinking properly at that moment to relent. There was ALWAYS duffel position #1.

Bahia Flats is a condo that is right on the parade route, and overlooks the water. Carol and Nelson have a unit there that they rent out during the year, but reserve for their personal use during Carnaval. Did anyone say “cushy”? Yeah. I did. There are about 10 million people in Salvador for Carnaval, and they’re all lining the streets to watch the blocos, and bathrooms are at a premium. It’s like 2 times a New Orleans crowd, and there are two parade routes. The city is PACKED to the gills with mankind during Carnaval. At the Bahia Flats, we had an enclosed terrace that had a dead-on view of the trios elétricos, and the stars performing on top of them.

But we had to get there first.

Good grief, you absolutely should have been there to see us get to Bahia Flats. Nelson had opted out for this first night, so there were 7 in Carol’s SUV. Festivals, fairs, any kind of hullabaloo that involves traffic and parking and logistics make me extremely nervous. I hate to be in charge. But with Carol behind the wheel of the SUV, I felt like a baby in the womb. They had let me sit up front, so I had the air conditioner blowing on me, I was able to take off my Crocs and put my sock feet on the dash. I really had no idea where we were gonna park, and how we were gonna get to the condo, but I just blindly followed along.
Between she, Daniel and Patricia, they plotted a path to the Bahia Flats that involved driving through throngs of people that glutted every street. Carol was completely unfazed. She had a RIGHT to be at Bahia Flats, and had the papers to prove it. There were a couple of Checkpoint Chickies, with Brazilian military stopping cars. All she had to do was show her tax records for their condo at B.Flats, and the guys would give the thumbs up for her to plow through the throng.

Which she did, with the delicacy of somebody cooking a soufflé. People would see her coming through, and most would part with either a thumbs up or a smile. WHAT?? WHAT the HELL was THIS?? In America, the car would have been overturned and set on fire by an angry crowd at the get-go. But not here. Oh, a couple of people would slap the car and holler some
Portuguese party phrase, but I saw not one iota of malice anywhere. Was Carol freaked out? Not at all. She’s from Indiana. During our slog through the crowd, she would often turn to tell us some factoid about this or that. We passed the hospital where Patricia was born, and heard the stories of a freaked out Aunt Mollie calling from America. Ha ha!

After a 30 minute trip through what was like either some kind of birth canal, or the longest colon on record, we arrived at the vertical gate to the underground garage at Bahia Flats. That’s exactly right. We were able to park underneath, take either a well-used elevator or the stairs to the third floor, and we were at the place.

On the first floor was the front desk, lobby and terrace, replete with food, drink, and a bunch of incredibly benign-looking, happy people!

Carol took only one picture that night, and it’s of the four of us, but I’m going to illustrate this night with pictures from the next night. You really won’t mind, will you? The same people were there both nights, and they acted just the same.

Here’s the picture Carol took of the four of us.

I don’t look sick. I look deranged. It’s always bad to be on the ends of: a) a hot flash; or b) a wide angle lens. Disaster.

Second night of Carnaval in Salvador–part 1

Whee doggie! Carnaval! The thing we came for! And I was feeling human again!

Yep. In retrospect,
• I’m sure that my sensitive stomach cells were shocked by the brash Bacardi Gold molecules, when it’s used to the smooth liquor stylings of the Meyers’s Rum.
• Being up late the night before with aforementioned Bacardi Gold, intense heat, sweating out the ass, and lingering water damage in my system all contributed to my feeling like an old jackfruit that had fallen off the tree before summer, exploded, then gradually rotted during the oncoming summer and was eventually consumed by huge ants. I didn’t make this up. We saw it in Rio, and it was so very cool to see, because by then I felt better.


But let’s not forget what really made me ready to live. The wonders of Brazilian TV with Daniel, Patricia and Robo were enough to make anybody feel better.

YEAH!! It was that MTV Brazil show I saw the day before, Covernation! And look, I found the link for you to enjoy it and the twin hosts and EVERYTHING about it! No wonder I was ready for Carnaval. And notice, also how closely the video matches my description from an earlier post. I was so accurate! More brain cells are there than anyone would believe.

And then came the next Brazilian TV mind-blower: on an episode of South Park, which was in English with Brazilian subtitles, every time Cartman would utter “crap, shit, sonofabitch, Jesus Christ” or any of his other oaths, the subtitle would read “Caramba!” THIS from the network that allows the casual muthafucka to pepper other programs. I can see them censoring the “Jesus Christ” with the large Catholic population, but the other words? CUR-I-OUS-ER and CUR-I-OUS-ER!

We packed up swiftly and surely for the trip to “the Flats”. I was clearheaded enough to know that there was no fear for my camera, and no doubt that I was going to sweat like a madman. Again, Carol piloted the SUV, with Nelson up front handling the paperwork for when we got to the militia who wanted to bar us from plowing through half of Salvador in a big, imported car. Those magic documents!

One day later, would the people be more rabid? Hell NO! They were just as fluid as they were the day before. It was great watching the whole thing while packed into a glass observation capsule piloted by Carol with the skill of Captain Nemo gliding through a coral reef. Before we knew it we were at the Bahia Flats garage.

In America, we would have sat outside waiting for the “attendant” to open the gate, while he kept us waiting eating a sandwich and talking on his cell phone. Here, we had the smiling Bahia Flats crew sporting suits, ties and thumbs, whisking the gate up before we were even down the ramp good, meanwhile keeping the unauthorized personnel at bay. Un-freeking-be-LIEV-able! I loved those guys! Everybody did!

The elevator remained in the good hands of the Bahia Flats residents and guests. NOBODY overloaded it EVER, anytime I saw. And I’ll bet nobody would let it happen even if somebody wanted to squeeze in. Amazing sense of self control and self responsibility. Up to the condo to put stuff away, liquor up and head down to the plaza, which by now was as comfortable as my own backyard.

We were there just in time to see David come by with Chiclete com Banana, featuring Bell Marques. He was so cool and fun and ready to have everybody party. Dressed all in white with a red and white bandanna, which I believe is his uniform, he casually but firmly whipped a late afternoon crowd into the proper froth for a great evening. Little wonder. Bell Marques was voted best male performer for Carnaval 2008.

Second night of Carnaval in Salvador–part 3

Some of the fascinating faces in the Carnaval crowd

It was becoming pretty heated by the time Timbalada came by. Another one of the Carnaval staples, this group is so much ingrained in the festival that their bloco name is eponymous. Carol had mentioned before we came that if we were going to march in a real bloco, that they were going to pick Timbalada.

This group was hot, hot, hot! Totally percussion heavy, with about 60,000 percussionists on top of the trio, and  participants sporting Afrobrazilian designs in face and body paint. In the next picture, you can see what the end of the bloco rope is like. The guys at the ends had the hardest jobs by far, since they were the keepers of the slack. Woo! I thought I was suado at the time. I’d hate to see my little rubber band arms try to perform that job.

The next group to come by was Cocobambu, the bloco that Daniel, Patricia, Pedro Peral, and Christian Nytun were in. Carol provided this picture of them in their shirts (surely made of that quick-dry fabric that is so popular in Brazil. Just looking at them makes my nipples itchy.)

Notice that they’re standing in the entrance to the underground garage at Bahia Flats. I’m sure they went down the elevator, flashed the sign to the jovial guards, and were released into the crowd with the same amount of love that a mother would give her first-day kindergartner.

The group commandeering the Cocobambu trio was Banda Eva, who was as unfamiliar to me as most of the groups were at the time. I knew Gilberto Gil, Jorge Ben, Carlinhos Brown, and Caetano Veloso from my library. But out of the whole Carnaval roster, I didn’t have a clue about 95% of the entertainers.

Not anymore. Not after the massive amount of Carnaval music I’ve listened to since returning home. It’s like a happy pill for humanity, and my treatise will come later. But this is how I know what I know now. Post-trip study–the best kind.

Banda Eva is the group that spawned Ivete Sangalo, who was to come by later. Carol had again mentioned that we were going to see some really famous acts. Once again I nodded, knowing they’d be great, but not having any idea HOW great, or HOW famous.

This next picture shows the end of Timbalada and the beginning of Cocobambu. The cool thing about being in a bloco is that you can hop into the parade any time you feel like it. All you need is a cross-street to do it in. Otherwise, you’d never make it in from the sidewalk.

The picture above shows Cocobambu on the run. When that giant trio behind a crowd of several thousand starts to move, the crowd starts to move, too. At least they’d BETTER move. And when it happens, it’s quite a sight. The crush of people all holding beer, or their other favorite beverage, are propelled forward at a remarkable speed, and their beverage of choice ultimately shoots into the air. When seen from the terrace, it looks like just a bunch of shenanigans. When seen from inside the crowd as we did later, you find out that it happens because of all the sudden movement. It’s like the popping of a big party pimple.

Below are Daniel, Patricia, and Christian in the bloco. No telling where Pedro is. I don’t know who the guy is in front of Christian, but when I first put the identifying rings on the picture, they crossed in front of his face. I figured he’s a friend of P, D and C’s, so I took the rings off. It’ll be, like, really ironic if he’s frienemies with P,D and C.

Here’s Banda Eva and their trio. The lead singer, Saulo, was excellent, as was the entire group. Another thing I liked about them was, it reminded me of playing in Chevy 6 for some reason. Saulo with his capri pants and t-shirt, and the whole band gave off the same vibe. They were like a great party band for a gigantic party.

Their bloco was comprised of a much younger constituency than most of the others, and I figured that Banda Eva was one of the reasons. The tickets were cheaper than some of the other blocos, too. Better for a younger budget? Regardless, this is still an interesting, rare case where the centerpiece of the band (Ivete Sangalo) launches a massive solo career, but the spawning group (Banda Eva) remains as popular as ever. In addition, it doesn’t appear that there is anything but love between former front woman and band.



Oh the zany shenanigans! Look in the picture above, right under sponsor logo LG, and see the two people that spotted me and signaled to the camera! I love it when that happens. I mean, these people were having a blast, and once again, NO VOMIT! In the next trio of pictures, you’ll see some clever gang-dancing girls. Notice the rope and security people watching them. How the hell they could do this kind of thing for 6 to 8, even 10 hours, was beyond me, but Patricia had told us how everybody starts really hitting the gym about 6 months before Carnaval because: (a) they wanted to look hot; and (b) they wanted to be able to do the whole parade route. It was obviously a thing with a lot of people to do so. Daniel and Patricia did, I know.

The fever was in the air all right. After the spawn had passed by, we went upstairs to liquor up again, enjoying the interactions with folks in the lobby and elevator. It was universal alegria, that’s all I can say. We sat in the condo for a while to cool off, listened to the entertainment from our balcony, then boa-noite‘d our way back down to the terrace. I was ready to sit down still, and so was Jean. I was sweating my ass off, of course, but was bubbling over with the music.

Suddenly, a young Brazilian woman walked by, grabbed my hand and pulled me up to dance. I don’t know if she thought I was gonna flake out and sit down, but I didn’t. The music was killing me, so I danced with her for a pretty long time. Long enough for her to figure I was either hip or on crystal meth, because she stopped dancing first, patted me on the shoulder and disappeared as fast as she came in. I’ll bet she thought she was gonna play a big gag on the big fat tourist, and ended up having to dance with him! HAR! I wonder if she looked at my teeth and figured I was NOT a meth user.

Robo, meanwhile, had recorded the event on his new video camera, and if I figure out the technology, I’ll post his video. I have no shame. Fat people are very fluid. It’s kind of fun to watch. Like a lava lamp.

After the girl zoomed off, we sat on the bench long enough for me to recover from temporary heatstroke after shimmying my gigantic self crazy with the coffee-and-cream-colored lady. Oh yeah, it’s a beautiful thing to watch. Shudder.  We headed back to the front of the terrace to watch more of the crowd. There was no bad place to be anywhere in Salvador as far as hearing the music, but seeing the unbridled human behavior is always a great video to go with a fantastic soundtrack.

It seems there was a slight altercation in the bloco. Some interloper tried to enter without the proper quick-dry identification. The second layer of security had quashed his attempt pretty quickly, but the military police were Joãos and Joanitas on the spot, and they carted the hooligan off promptly.

Look at this blast of color at the end of Cocobambu’s bloco! I’m sure the t-shirts are heavily coveted by the Salvadorans, and are surely some sort of status symbol to have. There are probably those who have shirts from all the recent Carnavals. Just another argument in favor of the democratic notion of Salvador Carnaval. The workers may be working, but they are a vital part, and I think they realize this and feel that way themselves. The only way to totally take the elitism out of it would be to banish the blocos, or either subsidize every single Salvadoran to join one, even if it were at the city’s expense. That’s the crazy kind of thing we’d do in America.