Aventuras no fevereiro

By now Carnaval has come and gone, and the city of Rio de Janeiro is now at its calmest I've seen so far. Nearly two weeks later, confetti still dots the sidewalks, rainbow glitter is still ingrained in my skin, and all of Rio seems to be collectively experiencing a massive hangover.

I guess I should begin by saying that Carnaval was a lot different from what I expected. I told myself I would make no predictions, but in retrospect I realize that what I was anticipating was a hyper-cultural experience that would show me what it truly meant to be a carioca and probably end up being the best week of my life - no pressure. After returning to Rio from Salvador, I expected the bus ride from the airport to Leblon to take about 4 hours due to the millions of revelers bombarding the streets with extravagant floats and ridiculous costumes involving sparkly bras. As it turned out, the ride took the usual hour or so and was completely devoid of any sign of the so-called "world's biggest party." Okay, I thought to myself, this must be resting time - come nightfall, the city will be vibrating with activity! Dora had informed me that my very own 'hood, Leblon, would be hosting a huge bloco that evening, so as the sun went down I was applying my glitter, adjusting my purple wig, and generally preparing for a night of utter mayhem. Word on the street was that the bloco would be starting in Ipanema and gradually traveling toward Leblon, so my friend and I optimistically made our way over to Ipa only to find that the bloco had already moved to a location that proved impossible to find. In typical Brazilian fashion, everyone we asked, from drunkards in the street to hotel attendants, pointed us vaguely in a nebulous direction, leading us on a 2-hour goose chase for our first bloco. The closest we got was a plaza that seemed to be the meeting place for all the people who were too drunk to continue on with the parade. We were confused; this was the CARNAVAL, and the idea of actually having to search for something to do hadn't even occurred to us before.

The next day proved to be more or less of the same, and when we finally successfully encountered our long-awaited blocos we were disappointed to find that we were spending most of our energy on fending off crude drunk men and trying to move through the packed crowds in search of danceable music or at least a spot of shade to rest in. The more entertaining and festive street parties seemed to take place in Centro (the downtown area), and I did enjoy myself at some of those, but overall I was somewhat underwhelmed by my Carnaval experience. By the final day, I was tired of getting groped, sick of cheap beer, ready for the tourists to leave, and left without a real understanding of why so many people would travel from all parts of the world to spend thousands of dollars on this ordeal.

But then, something wonderful happened: a friend invited me to the Sambódromo, the huge arena in Centro built for the purpose of showcasing the top samba schools in Rio during Carnaval, to watch the top six samba school parades in their last performance. This is one of the most special aspects of Carnaval in Rio; the samba schools spend the entire year (at least) preparing ridiculously over-the-top parades for crowds of millions of people. This was where the huge party I had pictured in my head with thousands of women in sparkly outfits being rained on by confetti was taking place. During the week of Carnaval, the biggest twelve or so schools of samba compete for the top spot in Rio's apparently very important samba ranking. I had previously thought I wouldn't be able to go because during Carnaval the tickets rise to absurd prices of R$500 and appeared to me to be just another tourist trap, but since Carnaval was technically over when I went, most of the estrangeiros had already left Rio and I was about to buy a ticket for only R$25. The celebrations began at 9pm, and as each of best six schools performed for about an hour and a half, we were in the stadium until about 7 in the morning.


(One of my favorite floats, but by no means the most extravagant)

I can't really describe the flamboyance of it all; I'm including borrowed photos, but pictures really don't at all do it justice. Pondering the unimaginable amount of money and resources that goes into financing this party instead of aiding the vast and numerous problems that plague Brazil bothered me a little, but many people have pointed out to me that tourism during Carnaval does bring in extraordinary wealth that is redistributed (however unevenly) back to Rio's various communities, so I'm withholding judgment for the time being. To make a long story short, my expedition to the Sambódromo definitely provided me with a better understanding of what Carnaval is really all about, which I am so thankful for. I was really starting to feel like a downer for not loving Carnaval, and now I feel that I got the full experience of the most extravagant party in the universe.

Now that that's out of the way, I can talk a little about another recent adventure in the life of Eshtephanie: Ilha Grande. Most of the people in my program chose to travel after Carnaval during our month off, but since I'm going to do most of my voyaging during and after the semester, I stuck around Rio. However, the little posse of those left behind (myself included) got a little jealous and decided to make a very last-minute getaway to Ilha Grande for some wilderness shenanigans. To get to the island, one takes a bus ride to Angra dos Reis, a small port town three hours outside of Rio, followed by a 45-minute ferry ride. By the time we arrived to Angra dos Reis it was already 9pm and the last ferry to Ilha Grande had already left, so we slept on a small but exceedingly well-lit beach and waited for the sun to rise. The next morning, we made the first ferry to the island and arrived early enough for a full day of adventuring.


(Oh you know, just floating)

Perhaps I should begin by saying that Ilha Grande is one of the most beautiful places I'm ever been in my life. From a distance, it bears a strong resemblance to Jurassic Park, but instead of dinosaurs the island is crawling with endangered (rather than extinct) species including monkeys, sloths, parrots, and turtles. The beaches are the cleanest and clearest I've ever seen and everywhere you look on the land is pure, beautiful GREEN. Three of us embarked on a hike that was three hours each way and found ourselves in Dois Rios, a seemingly deserted, almost ghost-like little community at the top of one of the island's mountains. After inhaling lunch at the only restaurant for miles around, we saw a creepy old prison and a former leper colony and eventually made our back down the mountain so that we would return before dark.


(Taking a dip in A Piscina dos Soldados on the hike up to Dois Rios)

Upon our return, we met up with the rest of our traveling squad and dined on cheese sandwiches, cookies, bananas, and screwdrivers on the beach. The two men in our clan wimped out and booked a hostel for the night, but we females were determined to camp (illegally, so as not to spend our precious remaining money) and staked out a spot on Praia Preta, so called because of its black sands. After successfully setting up our tent in a semi-hidden local so as not to attract the attention of policemen who might try and kick us out, we noticed that the tide was beginning to rise dangerously close our spot. Left with literally nowhere to sleep, we made our way back to the main beach and decided to just sleep out in the open and simply charm our way out of any hassling we might get from the authorities. This was all well and good (aside from the many obnoxious travelers who spotted us on the beach and came over to try and hang out with us at 4 in the morning) until it began to rain extremely heavily about an hour later, when any hopes of actually getting any sleep were officially extinguished. Not to worry though; luckily we were just delirious enough to actually kind of enjoy the many hours we then spent huddling in the only open café eating more of those glorious bread and cheese sandwiches. By the time we made it back to Rio, we were wet and cold (for the first time since arriving in Brazil nearly two months ago) but filled with longing for more time on one of the most beautiful islands in the world.


(The beach at Dois Rios - our reward after hours of hiking)

Speaking of being back in Rio, classes finally start tomorrow and I wish I were more excited. More contact with Brazilians will be great for my Portuguese, and I am looking forward to starting a volunteer project, but after going so long with no schedule whatsoever, I'm kind of doubting my ability to sit in a classroom now that I know the wonders that await outside. I've been spending so much time exploring, hiking, swimming, and just generally living in the open air that school is failing to muster much enthusiasm. Soon to come:
a) Classes in Portuguese: fail or not fail?
b) Rio being cold(ish) and rainy: will my pants and sweatshirts actually come in handy?
c) Planning a trip to Argentina in the next few months: affordable or not affordable?
d) Confronting the housing market and moving out: can I make it happen?
e) Any suggestions from readers like YOU!