Carnaval is Coming

Eventually I get in touch with my friends, and the next day I move in with them. They have a house in the old town, an area called santo antonio. Their funky green house has ten rooms, kitchen and bathrooms, and no furnishing whatsoever. We are also definitly in the hood. Bars on every window and door, narrow winding streets, 100-300 yr old stone buildings crammed right agains each other with no yards, all in need of some love or at least some paint. Everyone seems friendly though, if a bit curious at the out of towners. The price is right. We get the whole house for same price I was paying for a one bedroom with bath and kitchinette in Floripa. Also a shopping district is a few blocks away and the essentials like mattress, sheets, pillows, fans are quite cheap. My friends have been plnaning a weekend trip to a national park for some weeks, and have finally settled on leaving that very night, so after some brief hello´s and reacquainting, they´re off and I´ve got the place to myself and Salvador to reconnect with. This turns out to be just fine. Our hood is 5 minutes walk from the historical district, a center of action for carnaval and an entertainment destination year round.

Historically, Salvador was the primary port of entry for trade in african slaves for all of brazil. This fact permeates modern culture in Salvador. The richness of the local music, art, and culture derive from these african roots. And the people are dark. I´m noticing it this time more than ever. Even the italians and argentinians with their dark tans stand out as tourists against the local ebonies and mochas. Maybe its because I just came from Floripa. Everyone there is dark too, but they have tans, and the hair is often light and features european- swiss, german, dutch, and portuguese. The port district, or Cidade Baixa, as its called, backs up to a long cliff throughout the dowtown areas. At the foot of the cliff is the Mercado Modelo, the building where slaves were auctioned, a modern day tourist trap of trinkets and souvenirs, with the holding cells in the basement preserved as a museum, a grim historical reminder.

Atop the cliff is where the Portuguese built their city. Here windy cobblestone streets and ancient buildings share space with broad plazas and renaissance chruches. The streets wind up down and around, and there is music around every corner. Centuries ago the Jesuits built an elevator of wood to carry goods and people from the lower city port district, up the several hundred foot cliff to the shining colonial commercial district above. Today a modern concrete structure juts from the cliff and whisks thousands a day between the districts. In modern times, this area, called the Pelourinho, has some of the feel of Havana, with the crumblingly authentic architecture and atmosphere. And like in Havana, the locals are leveraging it to the tourists for all its worth. Its fun, but being my third time here, the hustle and show are wearing a bit thin. The bahianas are set up on every corner selling their acaraje, all day and night. Dressed in huge bustling white skirts in colonial style, they prepare a deep fried local delicacy, which amounts to some kind of fritter, deep fried and sliced open, and served with savory paste called vatapa, some onion/pepper salsa, and little spicy shrimps. I guess I should do some research on what that stuff all is? Anyway, right next to them are stacks of brightly painted berimabaus, musical instruments made for the tourists, facsimile´s of a very real instrument, and another artefact of the slave era.

(Side story here: The slaves developed a secret martial art. They were able to train and develop their skills under the noses of their captors, by disguising the art as music and dance. They would form circles and spar one on one, taking turns, accompanied by song, hand claps, light drumming, and especially the berimbau. A uniquely brazilian instrument, it consists of a piece of wire stretched across a bow, pulled taught and bound to a small gourd. Played with a small stick, rattle, and a flat stone, this haunting rhythmic/melodic instrument formed the basis of the music surrounding capoeira, the brazilian martial art. I´ve heard as well the instrument could double as a weapon, of the bow and arrow variety, though this may be myth. The martial art itself can be seen as a dance. Usually iniated slowly and building in intensity, contact is rarely made, while players flip and spin and spar primarily with kicks and footwork. End side story.)

A step further and a few more ladies fan themselves in colonial bustles and gowns, apprently serving the purpose of entcing the tourist in the souvenir shop they stand in front of. Next up we´ve got the amazonian indians in their grass skirts, funny hairdos and facepaint. Selling indingenous handicrafts, this is a real stretch as we are miles from any jungle or amazonian culture. Moving on there are the usual hawkers with beer, barbecued cheese, gum and cigarettes, trinkets. Their are the beggars, the spare changers, the street kids, the drug addicts, hustlers renting apartments, drug dealers, girls in the doorways, and tourists tourists, tourists.

Oh and there´s music! Everywhere. Drum ensembles parade throught the streets. With membership of 10 to 100 (so far, carnaval has not even started yet), they thread through the throngs playing samba reggae, frevo, samba, and other styles. The frevo ensembles sport full horn sections. The samba reggae bands feature acrobatic performances by the bass drum players, drums over their heads, standing on each others drums, juggling sticks, passing sticks, choreographed movement. Bars hire singers to entertain their drinking patrons with tables and chairs set up in the streets. The singers play six hour sets, accompanying themselves with great skill on guitar, leading sing alongs for hours on end. As a frevo band passes one such player, he recognizes their melody and begins to sing along into his PA. The ensemble stops and the artists play through several tunes together, while people dance in the streets in the rain and sing along. And if perchance there is nothing live going on for a few moments, every bar has its own sound system and DJs, to entertain revelers between roving acts. Its loud, its showy, its touristy, even a bit sleezy, its awesome. Its carnaval.