Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/26434
FOR INTERESTED SAMBA-GOERS, CARNIVAL FILLS UP QUICKLY AND RIO FILLS UP EVEN QUICKER, SO PLAN FAR IN ADVANCE. IN ORDER TO DANCE WITH A SCHOOL, ONE IS REQUIRED TO PURCHASE A COSTUME THAT RUNS AROUND US$100-SUNGAS NOT INCLUDED. THE SAMBODROMO HAS BOX SEATING, WHICH IS THE BEST VIEWING FOR THE BIG PARADES BUT REQUIRE RESERVATIONS AND OFTEN COSTS MONEY. SMALLER PARADES KNOWN AS BLOCOS CAN BE FOUND THROUGHOUT THE CITY AND REQUIRE ONLY SPIRIT FOR SAMBA TO JOIN. CRIME IS RAMPANT, SO CARRY FEW VALUABLES. But Carnival is not reserved for the elite. Many of the thou sands who fill the Samb6dromo with magic for three nights a year come from Rio's favelas, the shanty towns that dot the steep landscapes above Rio's five-star hotels and wealthy neighborhoods. Brazil is a culture of mixing and Carnival reinforces this with abundance as black, white, rich and poor dance in a medley of cos tumed fantasies. For many of the poor who partake in the festivities, samba is a celebration of their resiliency. The exuberance with which Rio celebrates Carnival is a testament to Brazil's spirit, which remains undaunted in light of the country's many recent economic crises. When it came time to parade with Portela, I donned my blue and-white-feathered three-foot-high headdress, feathered shoulder pieces and the accompanying wrist and ankle bands. Then came the infamous feathered skirt. Since everything is closed during the week of Carnival, I was unable to purchase the required sunga. But I figured going sunga-Iess would be more Carnivalesque anyway. The airy skirt offered a seductive skimpy feel and at first glance I thought it wouldn't be too revealing. "I might as well," I said to my friend. "It's Carnival." However, when I crouched to adjust my sandals, the skirt's feathers crimped and as I stood, I flashed a Brazilian Full Monty. In a hurry to salvage the scenario, I borrowed some Jockey underwear to serve as a less fashionable, makeshift sunga replacement. Over the screams of festive onlookers, the lyrics of Portlela's song soon burst through the loudspeakers, and we danced for a joyous 90 minutes through the concrete street of the Samb6dromo. Sweat poured off my body as screaming fans and the uplift- ing beat of Portela's bateria echoed through my head. Whenever I heard the three lines of our song that I knew, I sang with my best Portuguese accent and attempted to samba like a local Carioca. La Vem 0 trem, Iii vem, Iii vem Here comes the train, here it comes, here it comes. Nesse balanco eu vou tambem With this swing, I'll come along. Com minha "Portela" e voce meu bem. With my Portela, and you, my dear. Unfortunately, all I ever saw of Portela's performance overall were the swirls of blue and white feathers from neighboring dancers in my face. Nor did my limited Portuguese help me understand Portela's 1999 song. Although rumors circulated earlier in the night that Portela might win, we came in last. This was a heavy blow to Portela that, after winning for years in the 1970s, they would drop to the B-school category for next year. Some said corruption played a role in the decision. Nothing new for Brazil. With images of Carnival, shimmying dancers and Portela's song, repeatedly swirling through my mind and a bateria from the Viradouro school pounding out perfect, heart stopping sounds, I left for the airport. It was 5:30 AM, and I was still wearing nothing but the remnants of my cos tume and thinking maybe it was time to buy a real sunga. After all, such easygoing Brazilian leisurewear is pretty comfortable. 26 RODE JAlJ麠 RO,