Carnaval

Ouro Preto (Black Gold) is a scenic colonial town nestled in the mountains of Minas Gerais (Rich Mines). The city is rich in history because of its riches. In the late 1700’s the city was teeming with gold rushers looking to profit from the town’s newly discovered treasures. Slaves were sent into the mines looking for gold to send to Paraty (see P-A-R-A-T-Y) on its way to Portugal.
The cobblestone-lined streets are steep and windy with abrupt and exciting turns that lead into alleys lined with robin-egg colored houses that cling to the earth. The numerous exquisitely gold-laden churches are of the best examples of Baroque architecture in the world. However I was in Ouro Preto for Carnaval and Carnaval in Ouro Preto is another story entirely.
Despite the colonial, majestic, touristy charm of the city, Ouro Preto also hosts the University of Ouro Preto which is the best technical school in the country, or in other words its like one big frat party hosted at William and Mary College in Williamsburg, Virginia during spring break.
My colleague/roommate Roman and I booked tickets on a direct 12-Hour bus ride from São Paulo to Ouro Preto. We arrived at the central bus station and received free condoms while getting off the escalator. The central station was a madhouse with people scurrying in every direction. Many people were preparing for a week of drinking, some were drinking and a few were already drunk. We found our bus terminal where rowdy bunches of twenty-somethings were anxiously awaiting the debauchery that was waiting for them in Ouro Preto. Roman and I booked our tickets at the last minute and much to our horror we were placed in the very last two seats on the bus directly next to the bathroom. But it turned out not to be so bad.
I made some friends with a guy named Thiago from Sao Paulo and some girls he was traveling to the Carnaval with. Side note it seems like every guy here is named Thiago and my friend Roman thinks every guy looks like some guy named Thiago. Anyways the bus ride was somewhat spoiled by the fact that everyone besides me had taken a vaccine for yellow fever because of the risk area we were traveling to in Minas Gerais. The overnight bus stopped three times and arrived early the next morning in Ouro Preto.
Many people on the bus bought a prepaid package that included room, food, beer and entrance to parties. These packages were hosted by republicas that are basically like dorms. Most college students in Brazil live with their families, however the University of Ouro Preto is such a specialized school with students coming from all over the country the students live in republicas. We went to the republica that the guy I met on the bus and his friends were staying at but there was not any room left, besides it made a squalor frat house in the states look like the Marriot.
We found a nice pousada our taxi driver recommended for R$200 per night that included breakfast but we decided to keep looking. A guide in the street immediately approached us. He offered to put us up in a room above a local restaurant that the owner of the restaurant often rented out to tourists during Carnaval for R$100 per night. The price was right so we decided to take a look. I mistakenly told the guide we were Uruguayan brothers hoping it would cut our gringo tax down but I didn’t think about the fact we would not be speaking Spanish to one another. The restaurant was named Casa do Poeta or House of the Poet yet the Dona of the establishment was certainty no poet.
The house was a two-floor structure that used rocks for much of the building materials. The first floor, where the kitchen and dining room were located was constantly busy preparing a buffet for hungry drunks and tourist families alike, such as Roman and myself. There was a charming outdoor patio that overlooked the houses our residence sat on top of. We were shown our room on the second floor thatwas plain with two beds. Unfortunately the Dona of the house only wanted to rent the room out for 4 nights and we were only staying for 2. We compromised and we agreed to stay in a smaller room that had one bed and she said she would find a mattress for the floor. She never found a mattress for us so she offered an additional room.
The residents and staff were a colorful collection of local Ouro Pretanas, Brazilians from across the country and a traveling Argentinean tango band that had been trading music/labor for a spot to place their tent in the outside area and free food. The Argentineans were the warmest bunch I’ve met to date, which isn’t saying much. In comparison to Brazilian’s warm, welcoming and affectionate demeanor Argentineans are vastly more reserved, unapproachable and quiet. However these Argentineans could play some tango, and play some tango they did! In between sets they had to bus tables and sort out beans to see which had been corrupted by worms, but I think that grit and deprivation really came out through their music. We lucked out and at every meal we had the pleasure of hearing their unique instrumentation of two nylon string guitars, cello and of course accordion. I’m not sure if they were speaking Portuguese but I communicated well. I bought a CD and we made plans to meet up in Buenos Aires.
After we unpacked our bags and ate a delicious hearty lunch of (for description of Brazilian food refer to all other entries) Roman and I decided to wander the city. We trekked up the steep hill that lead to the Tiradentes Praça or Teethpuller square named after a famous dentist I imagine. The center square was filled with drunken youths sporting brightly colored tank tops. These tank tops were their admission to the blocos or parties. We found a popular florescent orange bloco called Lajes paid R$55 and were in. The bloco was on the second floor of a large university gathering building. The room was painted black but had significant light because of ceiling high windows. There was a promise of 80,000 cans of beer that were included with entry and we helped ourselves to plenty. Within the hour we arrived, the hall was packed with promiscuous partygoers. The DJ pumped out a foul genre of music called Baile Funk.
The majority Brazilian music is some of the most rhythmically and harmonically sophisticated music in the world. Baile Funk is not one of those types of music. Baile Funk is not to be confused with James Brown Funk; Brazil has its own Genres called samba-rock or MPB. For some classic Brazilian inspired soul check out Tim Maia or Jorge Ben Jor. Baile Funk like much of Brazil’s music originated in the ghettos or as they are called here Favelas, particularly in Rio de Janeiro. The music is loud club based music with pounding 808 drums, slapping congas, piercing vocals and filthy slang all of its own. Needless to say the kids love it. (And in the United States the hipsters love it!) This music makes people go crazy in ways no Puritan man such as myself should ever witness. The most popular song right now that guarantees mass coitus is a catchy ditty called Créu. Which basically means thrust; you can take it from there. Anyways the DJ stepped aside and a Samba Batucada band took over. Batucada is a type of samba that is most traditional during Carnaval. The instrumentation is percussion on top of drums on top of more percussion, its loud, exciting and deafening.
The cans of beers eventually ran out in the mid afternoon and so did the energy of many of the partygoers. Later that night the party carried out into the street where the city had set up stages in various sections of the historic downtown. Every stage had a different theme but the prominent theme was Axé. Axe is an Yoruba African derived word for energy and is originally from Bahia. Axe bands usually have a few guitars, keyboards, bass, drums, percussion, horns and a few singers. The beat is bouncy and palpitating with excessive strumming, the most famous bands are Chiclete com Banana and the singer Ivete Sangala both are from Salvador.
After sleeping off a few hangovers and going to a few more parties over the next few days we were ready to leave on monday. As we were killing time reading in the restaurant dining area the Dona of the house approached me and asked about the rest of the payment. I wasn’t quite sure I heard her correctly but then she repeated, the hospitality payment. I wasn’t sure if there was a misunderstanding but we had paid her the first day in total as far as we were concerned. The place wasn’t even worth the R$100 per night but desperate times call for desperate measures. But she was insistent that we pay $100 per person. I was in no state to be haggling with an angry Brazilian who thought she could pull something over on a couple of gringos. Luckily I had my Ukrainian-born confrontational friend Roman with me to sort the matter out. Unfortunately we didn’t have the chance to take a group photo. After we refused to pay her anymore than we had agreed to up front she gave us the finger and said FUCK YOU in perfect English. I guess that’s the origin of the name House of the Poet.
Understandably we didn’t want to linger around much longer. We fought our way through a different fluorescently, blindingly colored Bloco street parade to catch a cab to the bus station. The bus ride was 12 hours long and there was a woman on the bus who in my opinion may or may have not have had the SARS. At least I wasn’t sitting next to her.
We made it back to Jundiai and even got to see their parade that night. The Carnaval in Jundiai was certainly pale in comparison to Ouro Preto but there were a few highlights. First of all the massive parade floats here aren’t motorized, it’s just a couple of guys pushing the thing from the back. Second the people love their transvestites dancing down the streets in thongs and a bikini top. Love em. Third the motto of one of the Carnaval school’s was Danger: Emits Contagious Germs of Happiness. There was a party we heard about in town that night we and decided to have one more night out before we started work on Thursday. The party was loud and most of the guests were pubescent teenyboppers. Unfortunately they didn’t play any of the beautiful and somber music our Argentinean housemates treated us to this past weekend, however the DJ did treat us to the grimy, filthy pulsating rhythms of Créu.

For more information about Créu please visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4f78FSSgHk

Tchau Checha

I may or may not have mentioned Joice’s Visa situation. On the 7th of January Joice and I went to the American Embassy located in the Morambi neighborhood of Sao Paulo. I sat in the café across the street cleverly titled “Café Consulado” I witnessed more than a handful of disappointed Brazilians emerge who had had their Visa’s denied. When Joice emerged hours later she had a somber look on her face. She buried her face in my shoulder and began to cry. I tried to comfort her until she began laughing like a mental patient and told me that she had in fact been approved for her Visa.
We assumed the Visa would take a maximum of Six days to receive because my spot is located in the greater Sao Paulo region. But, the day of the 15th arrived and still no Visa so we cancelled the flight and thus continued the saga of Joice’s Visa. I had met a guy at the Café who owned an English school in the countryside of Sao Paulo. I had been staying in touch with him and he told me that his sister’s visa, of whom he was waiting on at the café had been postponed due to technical problems that occurred across the days of the 8th to the 10th of January. Everyone before and after was off the hook. Days and then weeks passed and the staff members of the school got to know Joice intimately. During this time Joice was calling and e-mailing the consulate and post office daily but the automated response was no help. I e-mailed my friend Nick whose father is a longtime employee of the state department to see if he could find out what was going on. Like magic within two days the Visa was ready for departure. So one day Joice was doing her normal inquisition as to the whereabouts of her visa when she saw that the deliveryman had in fact come to the school to drop of the visa. Joice asked the office members if a deliveryman had come by and in fact they had turned him away because they didn’t know of any Joice Furtado Ribero da Silva who would have anything to do with Oxbridge Customized Courses. The one secretary who was out pregnant didn’t know Joice’s situation and she turned him away. Puxa Vida. She ran to the post office to see if the deliveryman was still in the vicinity however the post office told her that if the delivery man had in fact been rejected, than in most likelihood the package would be sent all the way back to Sao Paulo. I wasn’t going to allow the package to come all the way to the same building after all we had been through only to have it get sent back to a dusty office in the basement of the well-fortified American consulate.
Brazilians have a term called Jeitinho Brasiliero which roughly translates to when there is a will there’s a way, I think I’ve picked up this more than anything since I’ve arrived and I pulled a Jeitinho Americano.
So we took a cab to the Jundiai central post office and waited for the guy to come. We stopped every truck, motorcycle and man woman and child on foot entering the post office. The delivery company is called Sed-Ex and their motto should be What Can’t Blue and Yellow Do for You? Amazingly we tracked the guy down and he produced the package with no further problems. It was like Joice had just won the lottery.
We booked the next flight out of Sao Paulo that left the next afternoon. My co-worker/buddy Zhe gave us a ride to the airport and we left early the next morning. The three of us had a farewell lunch that would be a nostalgic culinary reminder to Joice during her time in the United States; McDonald’s.
However Joice’s troubles didn’t end quite there. Joice didn’t know that she couldn’t bring liquids onto the plane and they made her go through check in again and she almost missed her flight. However she made it back to the states she got a student visa that will allow her to come back to Brasil as much as she likes during the duration. It’s an awesome opportunity that I know she will make the most out of. I think we fought more in one month than we fought in the combined two years we’ve been together. I guess this is what spending more than a month together day in and day out 24-7 can do to people. It was difficult to say goodbye. We had an emotional goodbye that even for Brazilian standards of public displays of affection had people telling us to get a room. It was emotional, and I miss her a lot already. Meeting her family and seeing where she comes from was priceless. Despite the fact I cursed her apartment for being too hot or cursed my self for feeling incompetent around her family, it was unforgettable traveling around Brasil with Joice.