Deu no New York Times
Autor: Juca Teles | Publicado: 2012-03-24T17:40:00-03:00










In Brazil, Baby Steps (Literally) Toward a Small-Town Carnival





By SETH KUGEL



Revelers celebrating Carnival in São Luiz do Paraitinga, Brazil.



A young woman in a full-body cow suit danced frenetically across a rooftop to the upbeat march music of Carnival, stirring up thousands of revelers who passed by below, part of a cow-themed procession.

“Why is she so fired up?” asked Adam, who along with another friend, Jon, had flown in from the States to spend Carnival with me in the Brazilian colonial town of São Luiz do Paraitinga. “What is wrong with these people?”

He meant it as a compliment, and I agreed: Brazilians are among the world’s top experts at how to enjoy life. Never is that more in evidence than during the four days leading into Mardi Gras, which the entire country dedicates to Carnival. Carnival in Brazil is one of the globe’s top annual tourist attractions. But its image – primarily bare-breasted women in fancy samba floats — is a bit off, though there’s plenty of that in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo. The real appeal is endless dancing, singing, celebrating, dressing up, drinking, flirting and kissing. And you can find all that not just in the big cities, but in smaller towns around the country.

At the Carnival celebrations in Rio, Salvador and Olinda – the country’s three best known — an influx of foreigners drives prices way up. But towns like São Luiz, wedged into the tropical green hills between São Paulo and Rio, attract mainly Brazilian tourists and provide a generally much cheaper and more intimate experience. (See “If You Go,” below, for more info.) 

São Luiz stands out for a few reasons. First, the town’s “10 Carnaval Commandments” (listed in the official local Carnival flier) include a prohibition on modern Brazilian musical genres like samba (which dominates Rio) and axé (the primary rhythm of Salvador). Instead, the music you’ll hear from the blocos — festive processions that include a band on a raised flatbed truck and thousands of revelers who follow it around town – are marchinhas, traditional Carnival marches with playful lyrics written specifically for each local bloco. (The bloco the human cow was dancing to along with was called “Espanta Vaca,” loosely “Scare the Cow.”)

Second, the town is so small, with a population of about 10,000, that the whole thing takes place within the few blocks straddling the Paraitinga River, which runs through town. And there are only two forms of transportation in town: walking and dancing.

A car, though, does come in handy, since less than an hour’s drive away over the mountains is a tropical coast studded with crescent beaches. Most of the revelers in São Luiz are young and seem to have no problem partying for four days straight. For the rest of the crowd, though, the town of Ubatuba, 35 miles southeast from São Luiz, with some of the best beaches in southeast Brazil, makes for an ideal break from the action.

And finally, São Luiz is having something of a dramatic comeback. Just over two years ago, the normally innocent-looking Paraitinga River flooded the town, causing the main church and several other historic buildings to collapse and destroying or damaging many family homes. No one drowned — quick-thinking white-water rafting guides spent 24 straight hours plucking residents off roofs — but the town was in ruins. Carnival that year was quickly cancelled. Last year, it was held outside the historic center. But this year it was back in full form.

Having covered the 2010 flood, I was happy to see that things had improved. Though some buildings were still boarded up, and most notably, the church was missing, the heart of the colonial center, where multicolored streamers hung from brightly painted wooden poles, looked great.


The author heads out to join the Bloco Bebêbum, or Baby Boom Block

It was also packed. According to a spokeswoman for the town, 120,000 people attended, filling the streets day and night, following the blocos, and hitting bars selling Brahma beer (3 reais, or about $1.75) and cachaça- or vodka-laced shakes made from ice, condensed milk and fresh fruit (from 10 reais). At stands and carts, they fueled up on everything from popcorn and caramel-filled churros to hamburgers, grilled meat and sandwiches. (We became addicted to the pernil, or pork shoulder, served on a bun, for about 8 reais.) The town’s handful of restaurants were also operating at full steam, serving regionally specialties like leitão à pururuca, crispy roast suckling pig.

Not everyone wears costumes. Those who do clearly have more fun, especially those who dress appropriate for each bloco (like the madly dancing cow). This year the town posted a Web page describing how to dress for each one. I translated it and delegated costume procurement to Jon.


He went above and beyond the call, filling half his suitcase with costumes. And that is how, on a Sunday afternoon, we found ourselves in our rooms at Pousada Vila Verde nearly naked, fastening adult-size diapers over our briefs and adding blue bibs, bonnets and adult-size pacifiers – all in preparation for the Bloco Bebêbum, or Baby Boom Block.


Soon, we were hitting the streets as hairy-chested, fully ambulatory infants.
“If we could just avoid severe sunburn,” Jon said, “this will be a huge success.”
He had greatly underestimated the effect our group would have on the crowd. Revelers came up and had their pictures taken with us. Toddlers stared wide-eyed. One older man lectured us on how inappropriately we were behaving — and did so in such deadpan fashion that I thought he was serious, until he ended with: “Now get along, or I’ll call your mommies and you’ll be in big trouble!”
Jon, who had been visibly nervous about dressing as an adult baby in front of thousands of strangers, instantly transformed into a natural performer, approaching women (and men dressed as women) and crying “Mamãe!” – Portuguese for “Mommy!”

When the Bebêbum procession started at the main square, we marched with it, singing along with band to the simple yet catchy lyrics: “Mommy, I want to drink. Give me, give me, give me, give me my bottle, my bottle.” (It sounds catchier in Portuguese.)

Postado por: Enéas M.F.