Carioca - definition of carioca by The Free Dictionary Carioca - definition of carioca by The Free Dictionary Also found in: Thesaurus , Medical , Wikipedia . Car·i·o·ca 1. A native or inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. 2. carioca a. A dance similar to the samba. b. The music for this dance. [Portuguese, of Tupian origin.] Car′i·o′can adj. carioca 1. (Dancing) a Brazilian dance similar to the samba 2. (Music, other) a piece of music composed for this dance [C19: from Brazilian Portuguese] a dance based on the samba. [1930–35; after Carioca ] (sometimes l.c.) a native or resident of Rio de Janeiro. [1820–30; < Brazilian Portuguese < Tupi] ThesaurusAntonymsRelated WordsSynonymsLegend: 1.

Carioca - a native or inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro Rio , Rio de Janeiro - the former capital and 2nd largest city of Brazil; chief Brazilian port; famous as a tourist attraction Brazilian - a native or inhabitant of Brazil 2. dance music - music to dance to 3. carioca - a lively ballroom dance that resembles the samba ballroom dance , ballroom dancing - any of a variety of social dances performed by couples in a ballroom Want to thank TFD for its existence? Tell a friend about us , add a link to this page, or visit the webmaster's page for free fun content . Link to this page: Rio de Janeiro References in periodicals archive ? This initiative resulted in the production, in 2004, of a specific TAC on employee health, in which Shell agreed to adopt measures such as soil and underground water monitoring and remediation of the internal area of the Vila Carioca terminal.

MAN BY MAN this chapter could have and should have been much more informative, and its limitations reveal the narrow focus of the author's view, which does not move far beyond the South Zone (rougghly speaking, the beach neighborhoods of Botafogo, Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon) and its middle class, omitting the North Zone and the suburbs, arguably more culturally important and determinant for the growth of Carioca musical culture. Spartak's Emery: Rubin Taught Us a Lesson To that extent he has decided to focus on a few critical areas namely programmes such as Porto Maravilha (revitalisation of the port area); Morar Carioca (urbanisation of all the favelas); UPP Social (development of social programmes in pacified favelas); the Rio Operations Centre (a nerve centre that monitors all municipal logistics); and the establishment of the BRT system (four express corridors for articulated buses that will connect the whole city).

Project MUSE - Cadela Carioca: Bishop’s “Pink Dog” in its Brasilian Cultural Context Bishop’s “Pink Dog” in its Brasilian Cultural Context Elizabeth Neely (bio) Down the hill from Samambaia, Elizabeth Bishop’s first Brasilian home an hour away from Rio de Janeiro in the mountain town of Petrópolis, lies the Instituto Samambaia de Ciência e Ecoturismo (Samambaia Institute of Science and Ecotourism [ISCA]). Its mission is to raise the environmental awareness of school children in particular; they come to stay on its extensive grounds and to participate in a series of outdoor workshops. The grounds include a main house that dates back to the late eighteenth century, a century before the official founding of the town. The house once belonged to the parents of Lota de Macedo Soares, Bishop’s companion during her Brasil years. In November 2011, its interior included the “Elizabeth Bishop bedroom” where Bishop slept on occasion, as well as a local art exhibition on the ground floor in honor of the hundredth anniversary of her birth (1911).

1 The small exhibit contained few works that referenced Bishop directly, with the exception of a simple oil painting that opened the exhibition. It portrayed Bishop in profile from the chest up, a pose copied from a well-known photograph. To her right on a raised sidewalk was a garish hot pink dog, also in profile, panting. A hot pink mask lay in front of it on the sidewalk; between it and Bishop rested an empty green glass bottle. Bishop’s face appeared much more angular and rigid here than in the photograph that must have inspired it; in fact, for viewers who know this photograph, the painted face is a mask that must be removed to reveal the customary softer curves of her face. Perhaps this is her own Carnival mask (or máscara), something from the culture that allows her to withstand the realities of Rio from a separate stance. After the more pristine rural mountaintop setting of Samambaia, Bishop was challenged by the poverty and incessant buzzing activity of the city.

Yet the mask also allows her to participate in the cultural life of the Cariocans, those Brasilians from the city of Rio (as opposed to the state of the same name.) In a larger context, she could wear it in her mind’s eye years later in her apartment on Lewis Wharf in Boston, as she finally finished what she started in her late Brasil poem “Pink Dog.” As Lloyd Schwartz has said so succinctly, “Having given up Brazil, she could finally become a [End Page 99] Brazilian.” 2 While in Brasil, however, despite Bishop’s very measurable acculturation as traced chronologically through poems like “Arrival at Santos,” “The Riverman,” and “Under the Window: Ouro Preto,” she never fully “went native.” As the speaker in “Pink Dog,” Bishop occupies a liminal position: she separates herself from the Cariocan culture in her keen observations of an animal off the street and in her desire to find a place for it, yet in her final conclusion, fueled by the carpe diem of Carnival as “cover” for the dog, she employs a wholly Brasilian solution in an attempt to find a survivable context for it.

Bishop (1911–1979), who won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, the National Book Award, and multiple Guggenheim Fellowships during her lifetime and whose reputation has only risen since her death, spent her most enjoyable years living and writing in Brasil out of the American literary mainstream. During those seventeen-odd years she composed the poetry collection Questions of Travel, stand-alone poems, and fragments; she also co-edited An Anthology of Twentieth-Century Brazilian Poetry, featuring first-time English translations of modern Brasilian poetry. American critics are only just now becoming more aware of the Brasilian critical reaction to Bishop’s Brasil-based poetry. Among this output, no poem has reached the pitch of enthusiasm from her Brasilian audience that “Pink Dog” has. This is Bishop’s direct route into not only Brasilian culture and attitudes at large, but specifically into the Carioca culture of Rio. “Pink Dog” was the last poem she completed before she died in 1979, although the original impetus for the poem had been brewing since Rio’s Carnival in 1963.

However, the Brasilian literary audience only gained access to the poem in the early 1990s, first with the translation of Horácio Costa and later that of Paulo Britto, while American critics have been reading it since 1979. As one of Bishop’s most often anthologized Brasil poems (second to “The Armadillo”), it has caught the imagination of American readers who are attracted to the tropical setting, the exotic in references to Carnival, or to the shock value of learning how some of the undesirables in Rio once disappeared. Certainly readers experience simultaneous curiosity and repulsion toward the poem’s protagonist: a garishly pink naked dog trying to survive on the streets of Rio. American critics, however, tend to minimize the cultural aspects of the poem and instead concentrate on the gendered animal body. Costello notes, “We are embarrassed here by nakedness and by its opposite.

In ‘Pink Dog’ [Bishop] urges a costume on a naked dog (a dehumanized image of the body) or the sake of its survival in a culture that wishes to deny the mortal body.” 3 Goldensohn points out that the pink dog is “only the second major [End Page 100] female animal emblem allowed into Bishop’s work,” 4 while Mitrano goes further: “Bishop’s female dog, clothed in nothing but the socially offensive pink bareness of its/her aging body, is not simply a dog but a signifier that keeps the poem (and us) oscillating between two semantic clusters: ‘woman’ and ‘dog.’” 5 For these critics, the significance of the female body (and its ramifications for Bishop) receives emphasis rather than the whereabouts of that body, which actually moves between three cultural contexts in Rio. Brasilian Bishop readers believe they possess a unique connection with “Pink Dog” that is denied to American readers.

At the Bishop centennial conference in Ouro Preto in 2011, Regina Przybycien, Brasil’s first Bishop scholar, claimed, “’Pink Dog’ is a Carioca poem that many Americans don’t like and don’t understand.” 6 Elsewhere she states, “Paradoxically, it is in this poem, in which the person sympathizes with outcasts and shows extreme forms of rejection, that Bishop has gone native. She finally wrote a Brazilian poem.” 7 Bishop’s long-term Brasilian translator, Paulo Britto, labels the poem “exceptionally powerful” and “well-realized” and proceeds to find explanations for this, including the way “‘Pink Dog’ [. . .] is paved in geographic, historical, and Brasilian and Cariocan cultural references.” 8 While he gives a few of these references, the preface of Poemas do Brasil, his translation of Bishop’s Brasil poems, does not lend room for their extensive development.

9 Lloyd Schwartz, Bishop’s main American editor who has spent time in Brasil, has stated, “[T]he attitudes that Bishop expresses are more thoroughly Brazilian in this poem than anywhere else in her poetry.” 10 The issue, however, is that most Americans don’t know what Brasilian or Cariocan attitudes are, nor are they familiar with the kinds of geographic and historical references to which Bishop alludes rather cryptically in this poem. To date, no single analysis corrals and explicates these references or endeavors to bridge the cultural gap between American and Brasilian perspectives of this poem: the Americans’ preoccupation with the dog’s gender and appearance that Bishop observes so acutely, and the Brasilian solution to the dog’s homelessness in Carnaval.

When “Pink Dog” appeared in The New Yorker on February 26, 1979, Howard Moss timed its appearance quite strategically: “the closest to Carnival on one hand and to Ash Wednesday on the other.” 11 Bishop referred to it as “a rather ghastly Carnival poem” in a letter to Ashley Brown dated January 8, 1979, 12 but two months later in another letter to him was concerned that her meaning not be misconstrued: “Well, I meant my Carnival poem was ‘ghastly’ as to subject matter—not such a bad poem!—at least I hope not.” 13 This, for Bishop, was actually high self-praise; perhaps she even liked the poem. [End Page 101] Her poor hairless subject, negotiating its way across an avenue in Rio but failing miserably to go unnoticed, is not the only female dog that Bishop wrote about in Brasil.

During her Amazon trip in February of 1960, she stopped in the town of Parintins and noted, “[A] female dog-passenger started out in the boat and jumped over and swam the rest of the way—then immediately (like Mimosa) found a place in the grass and relieved herself with an air of great pleasure—I suppose she had been down with the hammocks all night long, poor dog—.” 14 This dog was probably a far cry from the Cariocan dog “so bare! / Naked and pink, without a single hair . . . ,” but she observes both dogs with empathy regardless of their circumstance. 15 Bishop is decidedly not Cariocan, in how she observes the pink dog, strangely attracted to it and its predicament, while the passersby recoil from it. Once they recover, the Cariocans will ignore the dog and go about their business; the speaker, in contrast, will continue to muse about the dog’s appearance and welfare and then address it directly.

Before the dog even appears, however, Bishop places us in the first of a series of three Cariocan settings with their distinct cultural features—the beach: The sun is blazing and the sky is blue.Umbrellas clothe the beach in every hue.Naked, you trot across the avenue. (lines 1–3) The beach is more than a backdrop for the action; it is the first cultural context for the dog before it crosses the avenue into a busy commercial district. It is also the first scenario in which the dog has presumably tried to blend without success. The fact that “clothe” is the first active verb in the poem creates a great irony. The poem will soon be full of the dog’s appearance: “naked,” “bare,” “naked and pink, / without a single hair,” “a- / n eyesore,” and “depilated.” The “[u]mbrellas [that] clothe the beach in every hue” are a direct foil to the dog. And if the stereotype about Brasilians on their beaches holds true, “clothe” appears to be an odd choice of diction. As a setting, the Cariocan beach has its own rules and characteristics.

Rohter notes that of Brasil’s 200 million people, more than three-quarters still lived within a hundred miles of the coastline in 2010; 16 undoubtedly this number was even higher in the 1960s when some interior cities such as Brasília were only just becoming established. Of all the Brasilian places to see and in which to be seen, the beach is the most public, and according to some, the most “democratic” as “[t]he beach has traditionally [End Page 102] been seen as a great social leveler.” 17 The Brasilian anthropologist, Roberto DaMatta, has commented about the Brasilian beach: “There, bodies [are] all made equally humble” by the near naked proximity of “one body with others, all of them without defense or disguise.” 18 This sounds like a safe haven for the pink dog to go about her business; here she might not be gawked at nor have to “dress up and dance at Carnival” (as the poem’s final line advises) to survive.

However, things are not so bare on the beach as they appear; the Brasilian puts great emphasis on the difference between “near naked” and “naked.” 19 Rohter refers to the “toasted golden brown” shade idealized by beach goers and how those who are too dark or too light miss the mark. 20 So the beach does, in fact, have its own dress code and skin tone ideals, as “democratic” as it might appear, not to mention the associated brutal sun rays than can harm the fair skinned and overexposed. The dog, already pink (from its skin disease, but a sunburn is also possible), cannot survive here despite the potentially egalitarian setting. The umbrellas can “clothe” the beach, but nothing can clothe the dog. When it “trots across the avenue” to the next setting, its presence on the city block will hopefully be less obtrusive.

In Bishop’s handwritten notes for “Pink Dog,” before the official “Draft 1” (as designated by Vassar College), she double underlines and brackets two phrases at the top of the paper: one is “my good dog” which is the only mention of the dog in the draft other than the title. The other is “Avenida Princesa Isabel.” This is the street where Bishop apparently spotted the dog. By Draft 1 the specific name disappears, but knowing its identity reveals something about the boundary the dog has crossed. Avenida Princesa Isabel is one of the largest avenues in the Copacabana area. It runs perpendicular to Avenida Atlântica (the main beachfront avenue) and its central median makes it a boulevard, grander than the small streets that feed into it. It is a commercial street of tall buildings; specialty stores line both sides of the street, with businesses and apartments on the upper floors. Residents and visitors are fully clothed, going about their shopping and daily business, despite the proximity to the beach. Here the hairless dog will jut out in marked relief.

“Naked and pink” conjures up an image of a newborn baby, but this dog is not “a baby found in the garbage” (as Bishop titled an unpublished poem); it is on display in the midst of one of Rio’s bustling districts. When the passersby “draw back and stare” the dog is already an “other,” which makes the narrator’s extended personal address exceptional for the setting. The image of the dog crossing the avenue with all eyes fixed upon it creates an ideal parody of “The Girl from Ipanema,” the second most recorded pop tune ever recorded. 21 Vinicius de Moraes, who wrote the [End Page 103] lyrics in 1962, became a good friend of Bishop’s during her later years in Ouro Preto, and she translated some of his sonnets for her Anthology of Brazilian Poetry.

Both Przybycien and Schwartz have commented on the possibility of this parody, 22 but neither has examined the translation of the original Portuguese lyrics alongside “Pink Dog.” Of note, the lyrics with which Americans are most familiar (“Tall and tan, and young and lovely / The girl from Ipanema goes walking / and when she passes, each one she passes / goes A-a-ah”) are not a translation of the Brasilian original, but were penned a year later by Brooklyn native, Normal Gimbel. “Pink Dog” inspires the polar opposite of each adjective, and “each one she passes” can only go “A-a-ah” if that utterance is a scream. The parody works just as well when juxtaposed with this loose translation of the original Portuguese: Look, such a sight, so beautiful,So filled with grace,It’s her, this girl who comes and who passes,With a sweet swing, on her way to the sea.Girl with a golden bodyFrom the sun of Ipanema,Her swing is more than a poem,Is a sight more beautifulThan I have ever seen pass by. 23 Here the beauty of the woman and her graceful movements supersedes the power of a poem.

Bishop, on the other hand, finds a poem a suitable vessel to immortalize the pink dog, but the inspiration is the dog’s shocking appearance and utter homeliness. However, in her writing on Brasil, Bishop mentions the bossa nova musical style in which “The Girl from Ipanema” was composed less than she does samba. This fusion of jazz with Brasilian samba was at its peak in the early sixties (it began with João Gilberto’s Chega de Saudade in the late 1950s), but Bishop gravitated toward the traditional samba rather than its newer successor. As early as the Carnival season of 1954 she notes in a letter to Ilse and Kit Barker, “We’ve been hearing the sambas for this year’s Carnival. They make a new batch every year, all the samba clubs, and sometimes they are terribly clever.

Their political wit and love-affair wit here is better than ours, I think, but the Latin approach to LIFE in general is much more serious—less self-conscious, I suppose.” 24 While one can hear the strains of “The Girl from Ipanema” in what could be Bishop’s parody of a non-preferred musical style, the wit in the poem—including the [End Page 104] retelling of a contemporary joke—along with the tercet rhymes, make “Pink Dog” much closer to a samba. Back on the avenue, the speaker, after noting the general effect of the dog on the people of the city block (“Startled, the passersby draw back and stare,” line 6), separates herself from the other passersby in how she interprets what she sees: Of course they’re mortally afraid of rabies.You are not mad; you have a case of scabiesbut look intelligent. Where are your babies? (A nursing mother, by those hanging teats.)In what slum have you hidden them, poor bitch,while you go begging, living by your wits?

(lines 7–12) Since the Cariocans are “mortally afraid of rabies” they withdraw in fear, but the speaker’s curiosity transcends that fear and allows her to draw closer, at least figuratively, to the animal. Her reaction differs from those around her in several ways: 1) She observes that the dog is not mad, and therefore is unaffected by rabies; 2) She identifies more accurately the dog’s affliction, scabies, which affects the skin, not the brain; 3) She judges the dog to be intelligent; 4) She takes the time to identify the dog’s gender through its “hanging teats”; and finally, 5) She addresses the dog’s motherhood with sympathy: where are her puppies while their mother is out fending for their survival? The speaker’s tone here differs from that of the earlier speaker in Bishop’s “Going to the Bakery” (one of Bishop’s early Rio poems), who would have only registered the dog’s sickness and would have gone quickly in the other direction. One can argue that the speaker would not extend the sympathy she does toward the “poor bitch” if part of herself were not also marginalized.

Costello has noted the following in some of Bishop’s carnivalesque poems: Bishop takes on the stance of someone living within the fragile norms of the dominant culture, but susceptible to the challenge of the misfit, who embodies the expelled elements of the speaker’s life . . . [Bishop’s misfits] are ‘eyesores,’ like the deviations of nature itself, in a cultivated garden . . . They are not strictly antithetical but rather live within the community, not across some well-defended boundary. 25 This explains quite aptly how Bishop was able to write a poem that on one hand invests in Brasilian culture and on the other, separates that [End Page 105] speaker from that culture because of her attention to the poor dog, which stands as both a metaphor for the poor class and for whatever Bishop finds “poor” in herself. In aligning the pink dog with the beggars of Rio, Bishop makes it susceptible to the beggars’ potential fate, the seemingly sensational but true details of which occupy a third of the poem: “Didn’t you know? It’s been in all the papers, / to solve this problem, how they deal with beggars?

/ They take and throw them in the tidal rivers” (lines 13–15). Bishop’s initial notes for the poem, pre-Draft 1, center on this very issue, and offer proof that it was the impetus for the poem. Though all the words are not decipherable, enough of them point toward the content of this stanza: be careful, the policeDon’t you know they are _______ing beggars? They pick [most?] & throw them in the river.— if they do this . . . what will they do to you, a single bitch? beast? animal? 26 The fact that this act is documented in 1960s Rio is almost unbelievable, and Bishop, in anticipating this disbelief, reiterates, “Yes, idiots, paralytics, parasites / go bobbing in the ebbing sewage, nights / out in the suburbs, where there are no lights” (lines 16–18). Brasilian Bishop critic Maria Lúcia Martins comments, “In an ironic tone, the poet [. .

.] registers a black page in the history of Rio.” 27 Britto, in translating “Pink Dog” into Portuguese, goes a step further in registering this black page: he names the actual river into which the beggars were thrown. The stanza, translated literally back into English reads, “And not only beggars were those flung / in the River of Guarda: idiots, the crippled, / vagabonds, alcoholics, drug addicts” (lines 16–18). 28 Now the act that inspired Bishop’s poem has an explicit location. By adding the name of the actual river that received the bodies, Britto wants his Brasilian audience to recognize this more sinister chapter of their history. A Brasilian and an American reader at this point in the poem will have different experiences: the former will view the fate of the undesirables as part of history, while the latter will probably relegate it to rumor. Bishop never identifies the “they” who “do this to anyone who begs,” so the American reader has only a sense of a disembodied act.

The Brasilian reader knows the culprit and the history, which makes the act even more ominous: [End Page 106] One of the scandals of Governor Lacerda (in 1962) was the discovery that the Beggar Recovery Service was “recovering” in a style that was not orthodox: drowning them in the Rio da Guarda—one of the many episodes of summary execution common [. . .] in the suburbs of Rio de Janeiro. Except in this case there appeared to be an official sanction to this practice of “sanitation” in the problem of begging. The international repercussion of the scandal motivated investigations on the part of the government and the punishment of some of the guilty. The event, however, gave ammunition to Lacerda’s enemies who began to refer to him as the “governor [who] kills beggars.” 29 The fact that a government agency, rather than a street crime group, was behind the drownings, constitutes a scandal that Bishop does not fully explicate. This marks a local reference, the full impact of which is often lost on American readers.

30 Bishop’s recounting of the beggars’ enforced drownings is shocking enough for American readers, but the joke she retells at the beggars’ expense projects from a vein of humor that is even more so: “In the cafés and on the sidewalk corners / the joke is going round that all the beggars who can afford them now wear life preservers” (lines 22–24). First there is the passing irony that in the midst of the thriving beach culture of Rio de Janeiro, a large number of citizens apparently cannot swim. However, as Armando Olivetti notes, there is a big difference between swimming in the Atlantic and swimming in a turbulent river, not to mention the fact that the beggars were killed or mortally wounded first before being thrown in. 31 Making a joke in the midst of life and death matters seems unpardonably gauche. Martins gives some cultural context for this: “Irreverent humor in the face of tragedy [is] common in the Brazilian soul” 32 and shows the interest of Bishop in the joke as a cultural phenomenon. 33 Bishop understands the Brasilian soul here.

Such a keen appreciation of humor in a borrowed culture usually arrives late in an ex-patriate’s stay, or not at all. Britto observes that this cruel joke and its power at this point in the poem would inevitably be lost on a foreign reader. 34 But for Bishop to listen to something as individualistic as this particular shade of Brasilian humor, process it, and replicate it within its cultural context shows a sophisticated understanding of the Cariocans. By now, Bishop has painted the potential fate of the dog in great detail; it is time for a solution to the problem, at least as a means to protect the dog from threat of the Beggar Recovery Service. Only a Brasilian solution will work for this uniquely Brasilian problem: [End Page 107] . . . the sensiblesolution is to wear a fantasía.Tonight you simply can’t afford to be a-n eyesore but no one will ever see a dog in máscara this time of year.Ash Wednesday’ll come but Carnival is here.

(lines 28–32) Bishop’s split “a- / n,” of course, illustrates the most graphic line break eyesore to appear in any of her poems and comes across as a tongue-in-cheek jest. The solution she outlines may share this tone, or on the other hand, it may be a deadly serious, culturally-mandated necessity. Perhaps it is no accident that upon the point of giving a solution Bishop chooses two first-time Portuguese words: fantasia (costume) and máscara (mask). In the poem’s drafts, fantasia appears early, in the margin notes on the second page of Draft 1 where Bishop handwrites, “Where are your clothes? Where is your fantasia?” and it remains until the final draft. Máscara appears later as a more conscious but debated decision. In Draft 4 Bishop handwrites “máscara” over “costume” in “dog in costume,” while in Draft 5 she plays with “a masquerading dog” but crosses it out and keeps “dog in máscara” until the end of the drafts. This forces the reader to dig further than face value in processing the poem’s cultural context.

Eliana Ávila points out that Bishop’s use of these two words “invites any reader, indeed all readers—including herself!—to do some learning about the foreign culture. This is to say that Brasilian cultural contexts are central to this poem, which implicitly instructs the reader to share the poet’s acknowledgment of the specificity and untranslatability of the words fantasia and máscara.” 35 While Bishop does provide an asterisk and the phrase “Carnival costume” for fantasia to assist the reader, she does not share the other meaning of the word: “illusion” or “fantasy,” although this can be gleaned from the English cognate. Indeed, the creation of an illusion is key for the dog to escape its reality, at least until Ash Wednesday. Bishop lets máscara stand alone without English translation, however. Under everyday circumstances, wearing a costume makes someone stand out; in the context of Carnival, ironically, the only way to blend in is by donning a costume. Carnival has the power to transform an outsider into an insider.

Bishop has at least figuratively taken the dog from the beach, across the city avenue, and into Carnival, the third Brasilian cultural context of the poem, where the “poor bitch” might be able to stay for five days of festivities. After all, samba, which dominates Carnival, began with [End Page 108] the poor, in black neighborhoods in the 1930s. “Samba schools” from each neighborhood “took their rhythms, their songs with satirical lyrics, and their elaborate costumes to the streets and quickly found favor with the city’s other residents,” eventually making samba synonymous with Carnival. 36 In competitions in each neighborhood, composers submit their samba de enredo, the theme song that will eventually premier for Carnival each year, and the crowds learn these songs quickly by rote during Carnival. And what sambas could the pink dog dance?

While there are eight to ten different styles of samba music, the top sambas de enredo in 1963 had minimal comment on social justice: “The Exultação da Bahia,” (about the Northeastern Brasilian state), “Três Capitais” (about the three capitals of Brasil, including the new capital of Brasília), and “Xica da Silva” (about an 18th century slave who rose to be rich and powerful, a rare event). It is surprising, considering the context of the Portuguese fantasia and máscara, that Bishop does not use the Brasilian Carnaval spelling the four times it appears in the last three stanzas. Ávila posits that the English equivalent of the word “reflects the very Carnival of consumption” 37 that Bishop outlines: They say that Carnival’s degenerating—radios, Americans, or something,Have ruined it completely. They’re just talking. (lines 34–36) In this stanza Bishop switches for a moment from her second-person address to the dog to the third person, “they.” Those who say Carnival is degenerating are probably the Brasilians, especially if the Americans are possible culprits.

In fact, Britto attributes the “saudosistas jornalistas” [journalists with nostalgia for the “good old days”] who used to say the same thing year after year. 38 When she lists “Americans” along with “radios” or “something” as a cause of Carnival’s decline, Bishop positions herself alongside the Brasilians, at least for a moment. However, she is again in a liminal position as she quickly notes, “They’re just talking,” making the list a product of gossip rather than full truth. Yet Bishop had much more to say about the changes in Carnival than she expressed in these finite lines.

In Brazil, the informational book she authored for Life World Library, the conclusion of the sixth chapter on Brasil’s arts reads like extended footnotes to the cryptic comments in the poem: “Carnival is one of the greatest folk spectacles left on earth,” she claims, “or perhaps one should say that it was, because in the big cities, at least, Carnival unfortunately is rapidly being spoiled.” 39 She laments [End Page 109] how the government has limited the subjects for Carnival’s satire and how commercialism has resulted in the radio broadcasting the year’s songs before Carnival has even begun: Much of the fun at Carnival has also been spoiled by the government’s forbidding costumes or floats that make sport of politicians, the Church or the military. Some of the cleverest displays of wit were formerly inspired by these old reliable objects of satire. But radio and loudspeakers have done the most damage. The virtue of Carnival has always been its spontaneity and the fact that all the songs, music and dances came directly from the people themselves. When commercial songwriters start composing songs for it, and when these songs are broadcast long before Carnival, all charm is lost.

40 For the degenerating influence of the “Americans,” Bishop cites Hollywood and takes as an example a popular Biblical epic, resulting in “thousands of Davids and Bathshebas samba-[ing] in the streets in monotonous and unoriginal getups.” 41 Considering that the 1950s was the peak era for Old Testament films, she probably refers to David and Bathsheba which premiered in the U.S. in 1951 and arrived in Brasil later. Bishop shares the opinion of the journalists that Carnival is degenerating, but for the purposes of this poem she dismisses that voice to defend Carnival and to urge the dog to participate. She buys into a specifically Cariocan phenomenon: using Carnival as a temporary measure to get the poor off the streets in their present form and into a more acceptable guise. This is the Brasilian solution. Yet she may deplore this solution even as she advocates for it: “Carnival is always wonderful!” is less of an exultation and more of a hollow encouragement in which the speaker is trying to convince herself—even this expatriate who enjoyed watching the festivities and buying records of the sambas.

Britto observes that one of the aspects of the poem that makes it so Brasilian is Bishop’s understanding that below the surface, “behind all the glitter and merrymaking, Carnaval is a wistful, melancholy affair.” 42 Ultimately the dog can only become part of a band-aid solution; there is no other. But for these five days, at least, the dog will have its day. [End Page 110] Elizabeth Neely Elizabeth Neely Elizabeth Neely is a doctoral candidate in English at the University of North Texas, recently returned from a Fulbright Grant for Dissertation Research in Brasil (Belo Horizonte), where she has lived twice before. Her dissertation, “Elizabeth Bishop in Brasil, an Ongoing Acculturation” examines Bishop’s Brasil-based poetry chronologically, showing how her increased attention to Brasilian culture, history, and language reflects her own acculturation. Her poetry has been published in Oak Bend Review, Amarillo Bay, and Colere. Notes 1.

During the November 2011 visit to the Samambaia Institute of Science and Ecoturism and the art exhibit, Jean Charles Barreto, head of the Institute and an aficionado of Bishop’s Brasil poetry, gave me a tour of the house and property. I stopped in Petrópolis on the way to present at the international Bishop conference, “Dazzling Dialectics: Brasil in the Eyes of Elizabeth Bishop,” held in Ouro Preto, Brasil, on November 9–11, 2011. 2. Lloyd Schwartz, “Elizabeth Bishop in Brazil,” The New Yorker September 30, 1991, 97. 3. Bonnie Costello, Elizabeth Bishop: Questions of Mastery (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), 85. 4. Lorrie Goldensohn, Elizabeth Bishop: The Biography of a Poetry (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 279. 5. Mena Mitrano, “Bishop’s ‘Pink Dog,’” Explicator 54 (Fall 1995): 33. 6.

Regina Przybycien, “Dazzling Dialectics: Brazil in the Eyes of Elizabeth Bishop” (remarks, Ouro Preto, Brazil. November 10, 2011). 7. Przybycien, “Elizabeth Bishop in Brazil: Traveler, Ethnographer, and Castaway” in The Art of Elizabeth Bishop, eds. Sandra Regina Goulart Almeida, Gláucia Renate Gonçalves, and Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis (Belo Horizonte, Brasil: Editora Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, 2002), 71. 8. Paulo Henriques Britto, Elizabeth Bishop Poemas do Brasil (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1999), 48. 9. Britto’s latest translation of Bishop’s poetry, Elizabeth Bishop Poemas Escolhidos, which includes not only most of the Brasil poems but selected others, was published in 2012.

This was in preparation for the 2013 premier of the film, Flores Raras (Reaching for the Moon) on the relationship between Bishop and Lota de Macedo Soares by Brasilian director, Bruno Barreto. 10. Schwartz, “Elizabeth Bishop in Brazil,” 96. 11. Elizabeth Bishop, Elizabeth Bishop and The New Yorker: The Complete Correspondence, ed. Joelle Biele (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011), 392. 12. Elizabeth Bishop, One Art: Selected Letters, ed. Robert Giroux (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1994), 629. Cariocas - definition of cariocas by The Free Dictionary Cariocas - definition of cariocas by The Free Dictionary Also found in: Thesaurus , Medical , Wikipedia . Car·i·o·ca 1. A native or inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. 2. carioca a. A dance similar to the samba. b. The music for this dance.

[Portuguese, of Tupian origin.] Car′i·o′can adj. carioca 1. (Dancing) a Brazilian dance similar to the samba 2. (Music, other) a piece of music composed for this dance [C19: from Brazilian Portuguese] a dance based on the samba. [1930–35; after Carioca ] (sometimes l.c.) a native or resident of Rio de Janeiro. [1820–30; < Brazilian Portuguese < Tupi] ThesaurusAntonymsRelated WordsSynonymsLegend: 1. Carioca - a native or inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro Rio , Rio de Janeiro - the former capital and 2nd largest city of Brazil; chief Brazilian port; famous as a tourist attraction Brazilian - a native or inhabitant of Brazil 2. dance music - music to dance to 3. carioca - a lively ballroom dance that resembles the samba ballroom dance , ballroom dancing - any of a variety of social dances performed by couples in a ballroom Want to thank TFD for its existence?

Tell a friend about us , add a link to this page, or visit the webmaster's page for free fun content . Link to this page: Rio de Janeiro References in periodicals archive ? We will use the proceeds to further develop our proprietary software platform and expand our sales force and network," said Laurent Massa, president and CEO of Cariocas. Cariocas Raises $5.25 Million in Second-Round Funding; Intelligent Promotion Platform Provider Raises Operating Cash To Expand Company's Growing Resource Requirements and to Maintain Market Leadership The Ramos pool, which looks more like a manmade lake than a conventional swimming pool, has attracted 50,000 people some weekends, given jobs to 1,400 people from nearby slums and been feted by reporters, filmmakers and even dozens of cariocas who donned bikinis to vie for the title of pool beauty queen. Pool party.

(Trade Talk) Apart from RPC, Rio's only rap station, which offers mainly what cariocas call funky melody - a Rio version of Latin disco/Miami sound, as practiced ten years ago by artists like Noel and Lisa Lisa, that is produced mostly by local DJs and characterized by endless tracks featuring cheap sequencers, dull drum programming, and talking heads miming embarrassing lyrics - there's little effort to capture the real rhythm and poetry of Brazilian rap on the airwaves. Guesthouse Bianca | Bed & Breakfast | Santa Teresa | Rio de Janeiro | Brazil | The Guesthouse Guesthouse Bianca | Bed & Breakfast | Santa Teresa | Rio de Janeiro | Brazil | The Guesthouse Guesthouse Bianca is one of the only places in all of Rio de Janeiro from which you can enjoy a true bohemian neighborhood, the chic beaches of the south, the bustling city center, the infamous viewpoints, and the non stop nightlife - all from the luxury of a private home surrounded by a tropical garden. The newly renovated home was built in 1932 and is located on a quiet residential street in the heart of Santa Teresa, considered by many to be the most charming cultural and historical neighborhood in all of Rio.

Guests are only a 5 minute walk to countless restaurants, bars, shops, bus and tram stops, and just a 10 minute walk to Rio’s ever expanding metro system. The three rooms are exquisitely appointed and furnished, two of which boast stunning views of the Bay of Guanabara and Sugar Loaf. The private guest entrance is through the lush garden, where you can find mango, coconut and goiaba trees, bromeliads, orchids, not to mention countless tropical birds and the occasional monkey. All of the rooms have elegant private bathrooms, inlaid hardwood floors, air conditioning, ceiling fans, and free wireless Internet. On the ground floor, guests have their own dining room and a self-catering kitchenette where they are welcome to prepare light meals and drinks. Guesthouse Bianca’s gracious host, Guido, is a native Cariocan and has lived in Rio all his life. He speaks English, French and Italian and is always available to give tips on Rio, or join guests for a homemade piece of cake or a cachaça on the terrace.

Show #108: The Spirit of Brazil Comes to Los Angeles—Saturday, May 30 | Rhythm Planet Show #108: The Spirit of Brazil Comes to Los Angeles—Saturday, May 30 Posted May 22, 2015 by Tom Schnabel | 0 Comments Tom Schnabel with (L–R) Viver Brasil Artistic Director Linda Yudin, special guest and keeper of the sacred candomblé tradition, Dona Cici, and Cariocan singer-songwriter, Kátia Moraes. Viver Brasil’s Laila Abdullah. Los Angeles’s premier Brazilian dance company, Viver Brasil , will join forces with Sambaguru founder and singer-songwriter, Kátia Moraes , for a high-energy night of colorful rhythms and powerful movement at the Aratani Theatre in Little Tokyo on Saturday, May 30. As the last of the 2014–2015 Aratani World Series performances, I promise you that it’ll be nothing short of an explosive season finale!

This week on Rhythm Planet , I was joined at the KCRW Studios by Linda Yudin and Kátia Moraes, who brought with them honored guest and keeper of the sacred candomblé (Afro-Brazilian) tradition, Dona Cici . Viver Brasil is an integral part of LA’s rich multicultural landscape. Together with choreographer and partner, Luis Badaró , Linda co-founded this award-winning concert dance company in 1997, with its mission to honor and increase awareness of Afro-Brazilian music, dance and culture through their performances, residencies, lectures, workshops, and cultural immersion program to LA’s sister city, Salvador, Bahia . Dona Cici with Viver Brasil. I first met Linda back in 1999 , when Viver Brasil famously launched the KCRW World Festival. Her dancers streamed in full regalia down the center and side aisles of the Hollywood Bowl to Afro-Brazilian beats in an initiation rite that brought Brazilian superstar Carlinhos Brown here for the first time. I was the LA Philharmonic’s new Program Director of World Music at the time, and this was truly one of the most exciting shows that I ever took part in.

Dona Cici. Viver Brasil has since become a local institution that also works with young Angelenos of all ethnicities to teach them the beautiful Brazilian music and dance traditions. Linda once told me about some of her at-risk youth being approached on their way to rehearsals by neighborhood gang members inviting them to join. Her students would respond with “No, I have to go to dance practice.” Viver Brasil gave these kids a sense of belonging and purpose, years before Gustavo Dudamel would later bring El Sistema to L.A. The theme of the May 30 show is “Peace Transcends,” honoring the great river goddess, Oxum , and Dona Cici , for her deep contribution to the preservation of Bahia’s historical and spiritual inheritance, and for her role as a peacemaker. As one of the most sought-after storytellers of candomblé , Dona Cici is a sacred daughter of the o rixás (spirits): Obatalá (also known as Oxalá, creator of the earth and mankind); Oxum (goddess of the rivers, prosperity, and beauty); and Ewa —all revered deities of the Yoruba tradition.

So it was our good fortune to have such a cultural treasure perform sacred chants to Oxum and Oxalá on Rhythm Planet . Kátia Moraes—photo by Jorge Vismara. Carioca singer-songwriter Kátia Moraes is a native of Rio de Janeiro. With her sensual, melodious vocals, she exudes the “joy, love, and the spirit that is Brazil.” With her sensual, melodious vocals, she will join Viver Brasil and Dona Cici onstage to invoke the spirit of Oxum and perform some of her own Sambaguru favorites. Aratani World Series Curator and Producer Judy Mitoma certainly knows her stuff. She previously ran the UCLA Dance department and later the Department of World Arts and Cultures. In bringing Viver Brasil and Kátia Moraes to the Aratani Theatre, she celebrates a rich legacy of Brazilian culture, and Los Angeles is the better for it.

Bianca Guesthouse in Rio de Janeiro | Brazil Nature Tours Guesthouse Bianca Guesthouse Bianca Guesthouse Bianca, with only three guest suites, is a stunning and a lovingly refurbished, stained-glassed, 1930s townhouse with a beautiful, antiquated style, located in heart of the Santa Teresa districts. Loading... About Guesthouse Bianca Guesthouse Bianca is one of the only places in all of Rio de Janeiro from which you can enjoy a true bohemian neighborhood, the chic beaches of the south, the bustling city center, the infamous viewpoints, and the non stop nightlife - all from the luxury of a private home surrounded by a tropical garden. The newly renovated home was built in 1932 and is located on a quiet residential street in the heart of Santa Teresa, considered by many to be the most charming cultural and historical neighborhood in all of Rio. Guests are only a 5 minute walk to countless restaurants, bars, shops, bus and tram stops, and just a 10 minute walk to Rio’s ever expanding metro system. The three rooms are exquisitely appointed and furnished, two of which boast stunning views of the Bay of Guanabara and Sugar Loaf.

The Sugar Loaf Master Suite, appointed with a large and charming en suite bath, is a luxurious way to experience Rio. The deluxe room is exceptionally appointed with inlaid hardwood floors and Brazilian antiques, including a large wardrobe and a desk. There is a grand picture window that looks out onto the private veranda - where you will find a hammock, a table & chairs, and of course - breathtaking views of Sugar Loaf and the Bay of Guanabara. The Mango Tree Room is a deluxe contemporary suite with a king sized bed and a spacious en suite bathroom. There is a large window, framed by two original atmospheric stained glass windows, that open out onto the tranquil tropical garden. The Corcovado Room is a breezy corner room with a balcony and its own private bathroom, located outside of the room, just across the hall. The room has herringbone hard wood floors and is tastefully furnished with Brazilian antiques from the period of the home. There is a hammock on the center of the room from which you can gaze out onto the lush garden or through the balcony doors to the spectacular views of Sugar loaf, Guanabara Bay and Corcovado.

All of the rooms have high speed wifi Internet, modern, electric ceiling fans and air conditioning. There is a secure private guest entrance to the home, through a common area. There is a table and chairs and an equipped kitchenette where guests may prepare light meals and drinks should they desire to do so. The private guest entrance is through the lush garden, where you can find mango, coconut and goiaba trees, bromeliads, orchids, not to mention countless tropical birds and the occasional monkey. All of the rooms have elegant private bathrooms, inlaid hardwood floors, air conditioning, ceiling fans, and free wireless Internet. On the ground floor, guests have their own dining room and a self-catering kitchenette where they are welcome to prepare light meals and drinks. Guesthouse Bianca’s gracious host, Guido, is a native Cariocan and has lived in Rio all his life. He speaks English, French and Italian and is always available to give tips on Rio, or join guests for a homemade piece of cake or a cachaça on the terrace. Related Vacation Packages

Question: A Cariocan is a native of which city?
Answer: Rio de Janeiro