Coffee Cultures are not Always the Same

The other day I found myself very distracted in my yoga class.  Beside her mat, this woman had what appeared to be a cup of Starbucks coffee. A clarification to my foreign-based readership: there are no Starbucks in Brasilia. I meditated over that cup while we were doing breathing exercises, wondering about the reasons of my disturbance. I mean, I am not a Starbucks lover. Even if crowds love them, I have never found their coffee amazing; the various coffee mixes and drinks they proposed never were my thing.
But in many other countries, Starbucks coffee shops are merge into the urban landscape. They have invaded cities like Paris, London and Moscow, they are a place to retreat, read, surf the web, more than just a place to get a drink.
In Beijing these stores would inhabit the lobby of many towers. Affluent Chinese would splurge to get a coffee that could cost them 4 times less in a local shop.
In Vancouver, I remember a street corner with 3 Starbucks shops kitty corner from one another. And in the streets, hardly no passerby's hands, strollers or backpack was without a Starbucks thermos-mug.
Here in Brasilia then, no Starbucks.  Nope, none. Zero. (There is no Ikea either, but that is another topic entirely).
My years in Africa were also Starbucks-free - but this was no surprise as neither Senegal, Congo or Liberia rhymed with coffee culture, nor popular destination for American imperialism. And I was not there looking for places to hang out, I was far too busy with my work then.
But the absence of Starbucks does not mean a place is not a coffee culture, at the contrary.
As an example, Italy is entirely Starbucks-free. But in Italy, the coffee culture is strong, and with like any Italian things, its making and serving requires precision. No frapuccino latté with soy milk topped with cinnamon is allowed passed the Italian border. Here, tiny cups of creamy and smooth coffee are drank quickly standing at the bar. And cappuccinos are reserved for late afternoon, when there is time to leisurely savor the beverage.  In Italy, coffee is so good that even an expresso is drank without sugar. Now Starbucks cannot compete with that.
Here in Brazil coffee is available almost everywhere. It is no surprise since the country produces about one third of all the world's production. The coffee culture is deeply linked to the history of the economic development of the country and slavery.
Yet for my North American eye, this local coffee culture is full of contradiction.
Today, years after the abolition of slavery, coffee is very present in Brazilians' lives. I like to think it is expressed by this interesting linguistic fact: When having their breakfast, the Brazilians say "tomar café de manha", literally to drink a morning coffee, even if there is no coffee involved, or even if they are solely eating their breakfast.
In daily life, coffee is usually available for free in popular restaurants, those buffet "by the kilo", from a thermos, in a self-help form. The super strong and sweetened brew is also available for free in grocery stores, gas stations, doctor's office and other places with waiting involved. It is available in about every grocery stores, even in the dodgy ones, maybe hiding at the end of an aisle. And at best you might get three sips from these baby size plastic cups. Not really the best way to enjoy it I guess, but certainly a good way to get a coffee fix.
When we arrived here, I tried to find where I could go for a coffee. Even if i quickly found the stand in the aisle of the grocery store, it did not really feel like my kind of hangout. But coffee shops did not pop in front of my eyes the same way they did in Italy, France or New York, yet this could initially be attributed to the unique quirkiness of Brasilia. I found them in malls and small shopping complexes. But what I found most often were pastry shops serving coffee. And while these shops would serve all the unimaginable types of local and foreign cakes and pastries, coffee was usually a very simple, black, bitter expresso (which I love).
In some of them, I sat with my computer to work, but in most occasions I felt at odd, either stealing valuable seating place for those rushing in and out. Laptops in these pastry shops were not a common sight, or even just people sitting for more than 20 minutes after they finish their drinks. Probably nobody said anything because I was obviously a foreigner. Or because my portuguese was null at the time. These places were not coffee shops in a anglo-saxon world, Starbucks way. I eventually just gave these up.
In any cases, the other day I just walked into one of these restaurants, those that have their breakfast buffet open early. I was seeing people walking out with what I assumed was egg sandwiches. I ordered a coffee, to go.
Just the Starbucks way, right.
The waitress firstly expressed some kind of surprise but produced the desired beverage in a styrofoam cup, without lid. When I indicated that this was not going to work in my car, she just simply covered the cup with a plastic film. I stood there puzzled, at the cashier, wondering how to address this situation, how to drink it while driving.
I was just reminded again there is no Starbucks way here.
I just picked a straw into the film: Ready to go!

Footcheeball

Footcheeball! Yes this is how they say this here: Football!  It is a National sport, I mean a National Obsession. Everyone has a favorite team, and nobody is immune. Even our kids, after less than a year in Brazil!
For Brazil holding the World Cup is like a consecration of their passion. The Brazilians are the proud host of the soon-to-come World Cup, and they are scrambling to get things ready on time. The Confederation Cup, which is essentially a dress rehearsal for the FIFA, is being held around the country a year before the WC.  Just on the news yesterday they were showing them buckets in hand, taking water out of a collapsing roof of a new stadium.  Brasilia new stadium, the Mane Garrincha National Stadium, has a crew working around the clock to finish on time. This new stadium, sitting near the city center, would have cost more than US$ 550 millions to the taxpayers. A few days ago, the inauguration went on despite missing seats. Not wanting to miss a historic event, we purchased tickets to attend the first match to be played in the stadium: Santos (SP) vs Flamingo (Rio).  The tickets were horribly expensive. So much for sport being a democratization of the masses. At the price we paid, we could have done a nice trip somewhere out of town for the weekend.
In any cases, this is how it works:
Pay online. Then go line up somewhere in town for a few hours before you get your tickets. The D day, walk over along with about 20,000 others for a few miles, because all the streets around the area are closed to traffic. Then line up in one of the swirling queues all around the stadium. Finally get near security. Pass your bag in metal detector, with the feeling nobody really watched the screen. Don't feel surprise if no one asked you for that pricey ticket yet. Walk further to the precinct of the stadium, climb the stairs, wondering how this can be so easy - people without tickets might also be wandering. Get to your seating area, pass a small gate - finally show that ticket. Grab the breathtaking view, then find you row. There, balancing midway in the stairs, try to count the seats to match the number on your ticket. The stadium is not entirely finished, seat numbering is still in the "to-do" list. Find people in your seat. Happy people that are not going to move. Split your group of friends, get kids to share seats. Swear quietly about what feels like a money scam.
Ok, I sound grumpy, but we had a great time. A really fun time.
We forget about it all when the match started. We later figured that the ticket price comes with a de-frozen burger in a bag, a cola and two bags of chips, to the delight of the kids.
It was fun to see the action, to see how Flamingo (the red and black) are the favorite of the Brasilienses. A few hundred Santos fans were installed in one area, surrounded with massive security protection. Emmanuel's teacher and her family enjoyed the attention! It was great to experience this modern colosseum, to be part of a historical moment like this one. And it was great to see how excited the kids were!

Speed or not

Driving here is easier than driving in China. But one of those driving surprise and distinctive difference here is the "fiscalisaçao". This is a speed control cars are subjected to when driving around the District Federal and more intensely around Brasilia. At every street corner and at about every 500 m there is a surveillance camera recording the cars' speed. Fortunately, the cameras are not really hidden. Large signs announce the coming fiscalisaçao, and their location is often joined with a large portal with a LED sign indicating your actual speed - and de facto telling you if you are going to get a fine. 

In practice, on the road, it also means that cars speed between the cameras and suddenly puts the brakes on and drive very slow for about 200 m after which they will resume speeding again. When arriving here, I saw them as hazardous drivers. Later, I caught myself behaving in a similar fashion. Yesterday, on a local expat's forum, I found a newcomer's question regarding the meaning of this strange driving behavior and laugh; the writer did not know about the hidden cameras. 

In the end, a driver following the flow of traffic will naturally come to follow the cadence imposed by the cameras, and slow at the needed points. A little extra caution is needed to match the required speed, sometimes very low. Indeed, the problem is that the speed limits are often extremely low (some places up to 40 km/h) following areas where the limit is 80.  And there is little mercy, with only a couple of extra km/h of margin before getting fined. 

Indeed, the cameras can catch a car "speeding" at 72 km/h on a 70 km/h zone, and  a generous fine of 85 Reais ($US 43) will follow. It is one of the most effective things here in Brasilia, to my knowledge. The first day I took the car, I also got fined for driving and talking with my cell phone. My first driving month was a baptism by fire, I collected for over 700 reais of fines. Let me tell you I quickly learned to identify these thorny camera spots. A useful tool to know when to slow down is Waze, this iphone crowd-source app where you can know about traffic jams, cameras and other important things. (If I mention this here it is because normal GPS do not really work here in Brasilia, when you input an address you end up somewhere else than expected). 

Once a car plate caught on camera, a note is sent to the mail to advise the driver. It is then possible to "debate" its validity. You might ask what is there to argue, specially when there is a picture of your car with a specific time and date attached to it? But you might not be the driver, maybe someone else. It is useless to take the first note to the bank, it is merely a piece of information, I later learned. A few months later an official note is sent by mail, confirming the actual fine. I learned, after standing in line for one another hour that even if this paper is the final bill, you can't use it to pay, neither at your bank or at the emitting bank. The clerk, who clearly understood I was clueless, took time to explain to me the process, and the impression of a special notice from the internet. I needed to go home, find the internet page, print, take cash with me and return another time during office hours. After standing in line in three separate occasions, for a total of 3 hours (give or take), I had not yet succeeded to pay my fines. 
I have been calling these my banking woes. They are the little thorns in my Brazilian life here. But I assume with time they will get less and less numerous and painful. 
Learning what to do with all these things - which bank, which paper, when, are all part of this "learning curve" an expat has to take to integrate in his new country. It takes time. And patience. 
Rachel here wrote a nice post about similar expat issues.

National Theatre Classical Evening

Brasilia, from the first glance, does not give the impression of a very culturally vibrant city - I mean, no offense, it is not London or Paris or New York, where trends and modes are set and cultural events known worldwide. Yet the city is fairly generous culturally, with a number of venues are of great quality (like at the CCBB, which I have written about a few days before), and now and then very nice show and concerts are presented. This couple weeks, there is a series of events sponsored by the European Commission, with shows, concert, theater and more. We ended up for a free concert at the National Theater.
It is just impossible for me to go to these buildings and have my trained eye to not focus on a number of "bothersome" elements.  It is something we label "deformation professionelle" in French... The experience of the National Theatre, like many other of Niemeyer buildings, feels like if the architect imagined some form and volumes, in this case the entry and the spacial experience - but limited himself to that, not taking much time on detailing. It feels a bit as if the visitor was robbed of something that should have been. In my opinion, good buildings are buildings that are "resolved problems" at all scales - at least this is what I learned in school.
The volume of the National Theater a truncated pyramid with three of its facades covered by a pattern of very large squares evenly distributed on the inclined faces, a work by Athos Bulcao. These patterns create a very nice play of shadows at the end of the day. The theatre is nested in the middle of spaghetti of large arteries in the city center, with a parking lot in its back, on the Exio Monumental. Consequently, the entrance to the theatre is a little strange; one can either enter through a backdoor or walks in the dirt around the building until the main lobby. I prefer using the back door, away from the cars, even if it means walking up and down ramps through a long set of bleak meandering spaces, my way of playing behind Niemeyer's back. Once in the lobby, a pleasant lush greenhouse, the space is filled by lines of very nicely dressed up people (lines are common in the Brazilian system). As with all my previous visits, once passed the doors to the concert hall, I am always surprised to experience the contrast between the lobby and the main space, in terms of finishes and detailing. Once passed a set of "normal concert hall doors", we enter into a fairly dark carpeted space, and rapidly we are brought onto a ramp that spirals down, in the dark, into the concert hall seating area. Scarily enough the ramp has no handrails, and nothing to really differentiate its edges from the ground below (which prompted the current management group to add a set of these cheap plastic floor lights garlands along the edges of the ramp). The spiral twists a full turn before landing at the top of the row of seatings, in a low open space of large dimensions, maybe larger than the stage itself.  People gather in this low volume during the intermissions, in a low lighting and worn out carpet, with a plunging view above the seated crowed towards the stage and the light. Steep steps to the seats, which let us experience the years passed and the fact that each generation gains a few inches in height from one another... Seated, I am able to judge the main volume of the hall, a simple concrete box with wood paneling for acoustic purposes. The stage is also simple and efficient, which pleases my architectural taste buds.
Entering the aztec volume, spiraling down in the dark to the concert hall. Voilà!
Fortunately,  my architectural eye took a little break while we really enjoyed this classical concert.

Becoming more French than the French

Our house has an amazing garden in the back, but we do not go there enough. The kids are happy to have a green and flat yard to play football. We received a set of balls a few days ago, and now the backyard has also become a pétanque yard. By a chance I imported a bottle of pastis from China!

Mastery of the Line

Abraham Palatnik is a Brasilian artist that I just discovered today at the CCBB. Born in 1928, he lived a portion of his life in Tel Aviv before returning in Brazil to become an artist. He contributed to the development of kinetic art, or a type of art that moves and transform itself mechanically. He experimented with various ideas, creating little machines with springs and pendulums, mechanical boxes moving shadows and lights, all very different from one another. The portion of his work that I found really mesmerizing had less to do with mechanics and movements, but more with movements created by the shifting and juxtaposition of textures. Very narrow bands of textures, all stemmed from the same board, and therefore having initially very little variations one from another, are laid side by side. Their positions are shifted a few millimeters, creating the impression of movement in the newly created texture. The craftsmanship of the work is extremely accurate, precise, leaving an impression of perfection. Very architectural too. Really inspiring.

The Best Birthday

There is one spot near our house we should have visited earlier: the Jardim Botanico. It is ridiculously close. I mean it is next to our neighbor's house! The entrance is a little up on the main road, so we need to take the cars (if we want to go with the kids), but it is really near when comparing to any other Brasilia distance.  And this is where today Noam's classmate had her birthday party. You already know how much I love these already. Yet I have to attest, this was the best birthday ever.
First, it was held in a garden. It means no fancy bars, bartenders. Out the overload of foods and beverages. The mom had covered a few picnic tables with plaid cottons, a few homemade cakes and snacks, and some juices. The tables were set near the playground. There was a couple of fabric banners - not your typical plastic ones with the effigy of a popular hero like Dora or Hello Kitty - but one made of fabric cut out and assembled by hand. And a couple playing guitar and interacting with the kids. That was it. No big table with a million candies. Rather, a great idea, a gingerbread house, that kids smashed with haste and happiness after the required "Parabens" (the local happy Birthday song). A few pieces of "real cake" were distributed from wicker baskets to all the parents who wished. And the thank you gift to the departing guests was a tin can with a few cookies and a few sunflower seeds to plant. An awesome idea!
The best is that this low-key, full energy birthday was a real hit with our kids. They loved it. And parents too, for once!

More Japanese Food

It is probably not a well-known fact, but Brazil is home to the largest community of Japanese outside Japan. Yet the first Japanese immigrant only arrived in 1908 (thank you Wiki). Most of the descendants today do not master the Japanese language properly and are fully integrated in the Brazilian culture. The owners of the Nippo restaurant, both of third generation Japanese descent, returned to Japan to take proper cooking training before opening their little restaurant. Despite its cafeteria looks and its neon ambiance, the food is really what one would hope for in a Japanese restaurant! The kids love it, as you see!

PS: my kids are usually (force) fed three times a day.

Grand-Papa is Here!

If there is something that makes the kids super excited - apart from another plane ride - it is the visit of their dear Grand-Papa. And what a treat this visit is! Arriving on Easter weekend, we did a round of the friends and their best tables. We toured the monuments of Brasilia (more here here and here and here) and we also went to Pirenopolis, the little colonial town near by. A mandatory stop in the sanctuary of Vaga Fogo, where we splurged in a luscious lunch made of local treats and delicacies. It was nice to have my dad around, and to spend time with his girlfriend June.

Sunsets are Girls Colors!

At times, we have pretty deep and interesting conversations in our house. My 3 and half boy has been asking me why he is not a girl, and when he will be one. I have tried to explain to him that he is what he is, yet he comes back regularly with the question. When I ask him why, he tells me it is because he wants to wear skirt and dresses. These are pretty, he says.
So after repeated pleas, mommy went out and procured him the simplest, straightest, frilly-less one. He obviously insisted on wearing it to school the next day. I cringed but decided to let him have his own learning experiences. And I also assumed that his little classmates could not really be too mean towards his difference.
Later that week, my boy's teacher took on to help him understand what is socially acceptable, afraid he would eventually get bullied. She conducted activities in class talking about what is appropriate for each sex, in terms of clothing.
I am not yet convinced it was the way to go - ingraining him with a very "sexist" and binary view of what is right or wrong, of what is acceptable - and not embracing his desire to dress as he pleased, not embracing who he is. In any cases, he is no longer talking about dresses and skirts. And the other day, when me and his brother we were talking about the colors of the sunset - yellow, purple, pink - he plainly said: "these are girl colors!"

Seder

Juggling this religion multiplicity in a multicultural family and environment is a balancing act. And at times there are friends or organizations who are able to provide a lifeline, making the exercise one that is meaningful and fun.

Here it is where we celebrated the best Seder with another mixed faith family. The selections of songs came from a american kids book, and we measured our success when my boys were caught signing the songs in the car the next day! My big boy also loved the fast track approach, making the entire meal a rather pleasant one. 

I guess it is not mine

Here in Brazil, there are things I cannot hold.  Time is a commodity that is elastic, ever-expanding and without limits. It is really hard to imagine something like this when we are outside Brazil. Even for us who lived in places supposedly "less hectic " or more "laid back" such as Africa. That, combined to a real love for useless administrative procedures and paperwork, you are well served.
What does it means in practical terms?

• It means that a person who tells you that he will come at your place (to fix something, to deliver something) might show up 3 hours late. Or 2 days later. Even 3 weeks later. Yes it happened to me. 
• It means that if you call to inquire about their delay, people tell you they are coming, and still never show up.
• It means that, at the grocery, in the Express line, you are bound to take longer than the other lines. I mean, other normal lines in other countries. If there would be such things as cashier speed competitions.
• It means that the cashier might stop in the middle of your transaction to discuss holidays or other important issues with her supervisor.
• It means that while you wait at the cashier of the hyper/super/normal market you can make friends with your fellow consumers waiting with you.
• It means that if you stand in line at the cashier, the person in front of you might as well go back to her car pick up her wallet she forgot while the cashier (and you) patiently keep waiting for her to return to complete the transaction.
• It means that the person in front of you in line might not become your friend after all.
• It means that if you go take an appointment to the dentist, and need to see the hygienist, the secretary will offer you two different times on two different days, with no understanding of what you are trying to ask for when you say you want to see them at the same time - meaning the same day.
• It means that if you ask your staff to do something, it might get done, but certainly not right away.
• It means that if you buy something and you need to return it, you might have to go through a loop of a few counters, papers and wait before being able to retrieve your money. If.
• It means that if buy things that need to be picked up in the store room, you are bound to wait for a few minutes. And that if the person at the counter is also the one fetching things for you, you are bound for an even longer wait.
• It means that when it is a national holiday it is a really bad occasion to do what all Brazilian are doing, whether it is going to the beach, take the plane or rent a car. The later two specially as they involve waiting in line.
• It means that if you go to a show, you might see it the next day. I swear, it happened to us last nigth! (see below).
• It means that if you imagine completing a number of errants in the morning, you are bound for failure, either because they are out of the specifics (how can a city be out of red onions?), because you wait at the cash (read above), or because you can't find parking (always). Combine the three in various order of importance and multiply by the number of errants = FAIL.
• It means banks only open at 11 and close at 4. And that after 3 there are a number of transactions that cannot be done anymore. 
• It means that if you go to the bank you might half of their opening hours to complete all your transactions. (I will write a full post on banking very soon). 
• It means that if you are invited to a party (specially a birthday party) and you arrive 30 minutes late, you might be the first one.
• It means that if you invite people home, if they are Brazilian, they might come with more than one hour late. They might also come with other unannounced friends.
• It means that if you invite expat guests they might come one time, a bit late or very late, and it is impossible to know. The same when you are invited to an expat dinner. How late should we come to not be the firsts ones to arrive?

• It means that you might see the repair guy that you waited for all morning arriving when you are just getting out to fetch the kids from school, and that you can tell him to wait just a few 15-20 minutes. And that when you return 40 minutes later, he is still there waiting for you. That is when I love Brazil.

This is us patiently waiting for Seu Jorge's show to start. The artist, scheduled for 10 PM did not show up until 1:45 AM. By that time we were leaving to release our babysitter.

Night Out

Despite having a very amazing babysitting, we are not going out enough. Most of the time, we tour our friends places for more BBQ and social evenings. Not doubt, they are always enjoyable. Consequently, when we drive "to town" for a nice meal just for the two of us, it is quite special. Last night we felt like sushi. (Asia saudade?) And since we could not recall where was the good sushi in town, we landed on a random one. And consequently were disappointed. I mean, sashimi should not try to become ceviche, and cream cheese should stay at the breakfast table.

It is almost unmistakable, our random restaurants trials are usually a fail. If that would be only that, we could keep on trying until success, but the price tags are often Ritziesque. In most cases, the meals are overcooked, meat well overdone, full of creamy sauce, with few overcooked greens. Whether it is a typical Brazilian dish, or a French or an Italian one. Or even a Chinese one. The most practical and safe way to eat out is the buffet by the weight. But for dinner, I can't resolve myself to the cafeteria ambiance. Yeap, call me snob just for that.
It is not only the way the food is prepared that is sad, it is often the lack of imagination in the types of produces used and dishes made. Despite all the goodies this country produces, it is often surprising that people have not developed a more evolved taste buds. Our gardener needs to have his feijao (beans) and rice, she cooks him that daily. Maybe this situation is similar to the Quebecers' in the fifties. It must be just a matter of time to see some evolution. 
For us, our excuse for being "food snob" is this common love of food we share. I am pretty sure my cooking skills helped sealing our deal. Further, for my Israeli husband good food means mezzes and fresh produces and a gazzilions of different traditional ethnic dishes of several origins. For me, it is translated by a family affair with food, where meals are often homegrown, discussed and prepared together. And Beijing was for both of us a smorgasbord of flavors and produces far superior to any other places we lived in before. Chinese food is by far more varied than one could ever imagine. And the vibrant Beijing food scene is home to some of the best tables of Asia. And while we tested some (most) of them, we also loved the little unknown corner stall, where we would discover some amazing specialities.
That said, to be fair, we have discovered a few yummy addresses in Brasilia. I will report, I promise. I guess I just miss the infinite freedom of amazing food choices we had in our Beijing alleys.
For those readers who love typical Brazilian food, I would assume you either have Brazilian blood, or were raised here. And if it is not the case, I am ready to offer you a home cooked meal in lieu of apologies. Just email me.

If I Could Fly

We are just returning from a very interesting exhibition at the CCBB. What an interesting guy. When we lived in Beijing, my students had mentioned this guy who was building the strangest robots, robots that were more like themselves references to art movements: Cai Guo Qiang (蔡国强). His work was installed here in Brasilia. In fact there was several parts to this exhibition. The first one was presenting these funny (and at times spooky) rough-looking animated robots; painting, pulling a rickshaw, playing chess, barking, walking around, spitting water. Emmanuel did not really like this hooded one, which admittedly had the feel of some kind of horror movie when walking rigidly towards him. The staff was having a kick at following small kids around with its tele-guided puppet. Thankfully my son did not have nightmares.

A large room was dedicated to CGQ's "paintings" with gunpowder. As a child who witness the Cultural Revolution, CGQ grew up in a setting where both fireworks and cannon blasts were common. This work is certainly a way to channel those memories. The artist had initially laid large canvasses in the outdoor covered space in the garden, where some tiered stands were installed for the public to witness the performance. Under the canvasses, with specific care, he would lay down certain quantities of gunpowder in specific patterns, and eventually set it in fire that he and a number of his assistant would put out. The walls of this room where we watch a video of this where covered with the results of his experiment.

The last portion of the exhibition was CGQ's curated collection of flying and floating machines and devices made by various unknown peasants in rural China. All this handmade machines presented there at one point flew or floated, which is pretty amazing when you start thinking about it. I really like the story of this one machine who was saved by CGQ and some villagers, as the wife of the constructor was furiously destroying the machine to burn it, upset that her husband wasting all their small income on the construction of devices such as this one.

Sambodromo

I have to confess, this is the most amazing thing I have ever seen! It is seriously out of this world: The costumes! The floats! The music! The crowd! The whole ambiance!
We were initially nervous, wondering how easy it would be to get there, how crowded, how messy it would be to access our seating area. Imagine We rapidly ailed a cab from Copa (maybe our very minimal attire helped), we got to the Sambodromo area without any problems, traffic jam or incident, and were dropped off right at the gate of the stadium. No hassle. No crowd. No mess... It was easy.
As a friend noticed, it was a very well-oiled machine.
We arrived around 9h20, but there it was already started - they were on time!!! We found our little box easily. We had initially discussed a long time about what ticket to buy, and we agreed that for a few more reais, it was maybe worth it to get "frisa" tickets, were we have open air marked seats, in groups of 6, low, near the whole parade, along the samba runaway. As opposed to tickets in the grandstands, where it is first there first served. We could not really imagine how crowded it would be or how difficult for one to hold a seat if in the bathroom. So we dished out the reais and secured ourselves the best seats we could (of course there were the camarotes, those private boxes just above us, but simply out of our budget). And of course those in the VIP area, right next to us, whom were given free flow of champagne and beer.  But I am sure they paid for it upfront, and we literally shared the same view. (here for more technical explanations about how it works in the stadium). Except that watching them, after a few hours of free-flow-boozing, was a great show too.
So when we arrived, the first (of six) samba school was already parading and we felt a hugs wave of happiness and craziness fill us right away. I mean, it is a huge amount of people. Parading. And cheering. With an amazingly happy music. It is a exuberant défilé.
And the Sambodromo is not a regular stadium. Surprise surprise, it is another of Neimeyer's project. In fact it is a very long track (formerly a street) with two very high stands of seats on either way, filled all the way up with a cheering crowd, and illuminated with very strong flood lights. The stretch out length of this outdoor space makes it interestingly odd - it is impossible to meet someone who stands opposite to you, unless you are ready to go out again in the streets of Rio, and walk all around the stadium itself. We were never able to meet our friend E! And it would take 30 minutes, from our seat, for the first dancer of each school to reach us, counting from the moment they left the extremity of the stadium.
The show is in fact a number of samba schools who parade in turns. Each school is composed of a huge number of people, dressed up in groups of hundreds (yes, you are reading well), with variations on a theme. Within each school, you have a drum band and signers, signing in loop their song, usually very catchy. I found myself looking for the lyrics and singing along with the whole stadium. It was fantastic. Each school also has a number of floats, more incredible one from another. The school I preferred, Mangeira, ended up being disqualified because one of their float, with a little floating butterfly, could not manage its way under an arch at the end of the runway. It was a dramatic disqualification, their song and their people were so amazingly fluffy, colorful and joyous!
Indeed there are quite strict rules for each school to follow, a number of people must be in the bateria (band), the various groups of dancers must all complete the entire length of the sambodromo within the required time (more or less 90 minutes) - and while it appears to be plenty of time for a whole school to walk a decent length of 700 m. With several hundreds of people, a few extra large floats and several people playing music, I have not seen one person walking slowly. Rather at times, the dancers looked more hurried (as we were more towards the end) to make sure to complete the walk on time.
Between each school there was a pause of a few minutes, allowing the floats and dancers to line up and prepare themselves. Adds on billboards would be changed before the entry of each school to show their sponsors, with a crew quickly pealing away one add replacing it with the new school's sponsor.
We ended up leaving at 5 AM to go back to the airport to catch our 7AM flight, while the show was still going strong. We missed completely the last samba school - it was only started to walk when we left. I could not have imagined that! We were sure when we booked our flights that all would be fine, that we would have time for everything!
Our walk out of the stadium, while the music was still loud and the crowd cheering, gave it a most eery feeling. We past groups of people sitting on the sidewalk on plastic chairs, in front of large TV, watching the same carnival we did a minute earlier. We saw groups of people celebrating in the middle of some small alleys on the side. We passed a number of floats, dark and unlit, parked along the street after a completed journey, with their drivers lying on the asphalt under them, exhausted by such an intense procession.
And we reach a row of cab, waiting for the hundreds of clients who would follow us an hour or half later. The hardest was to stay awake until we were boarded.
What an amazing night!

A little glance at the crowd.
Here is a collection of images, taken by my friend Fiona Murphy.

My Own Rio

So for many of us, Brazil is synonym with Carnival. So, with our first Brazilian season approaching, I just assumed we would go. But for different reasons, my overworked husband could not make it to the Carnival. Maybe next year. In spite of this, I threw the idea around with some girlfriends - why not go together, just for a night, and catch a glimpse of the craze?!

And before we could think of it, we were there, me and the two Fionas, ready to Samba!
We first walked around Ipanema, posing with a sandcastle architect, buying jewelries from a native, drinking refreshing capeirinhas, people watching, chatting away. When I spotted a lady selling these sparkly sequined sets, hand made, sold on a blanket on the sidewalk, I just encouraged the three of us to "adapt" to the local customs (or is it costume?)! Specially after seeing a number of body types not necessarily benefiting to be exposed as they were (this city is well known for the lack of modesty of its inhabitants on its beaches and sidewalks), our own boldness did not really put our decency at stake!! So here we go, Rio, we are going to the Carnival!

The Street Carnival in Brasilia

Finally the Carnival has arrived! Brasilia's street are getting filled up, the neighborhoods are organizing their own festivities. We took the kids and went to see a parade on the W3, with large speakers and lots of fuzzy hairy dancing people. We went to a couple of quadras; a first one with a girl's drummer band, very powerful and exciting. The other one was more a kids friendly hood, with lots of confetti and color spray thrown around. The mayhem is good, the vibe is happy, people are laughing and chatting, it is really an excuse to make noise, dance in public, drink a bit and just celebrate.

Getting ready for Carnival

In Brazil, Carnival is culturally the most important week of the year. Its festivities last over a week, despite being officially 2 calendar days of holiday. During that period the country functions at low regime for the entire week. Devagar! Deliveries, odd jobs, services, nothing is really moving. Further, the Carnival folly is in the air much earlier, with many pre-carnaval parties here and there.
Our kids were not immune, with a little parade around the school. And we had our own pre-festival party, at the Iate Clube (pronounce Yatchee clubee). Paul was happy, as you can tell.