At 7 am on a Monday morning, women on stilts are flapping their feathered wings in sync with the cheerful blare of trumpets and the steady rhythm of drums. We’re making our way through crowded streets where it seems almost impossible to find an exit.
I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed such an exuberant gathering. An exceptionally expectant woman has adorned her exposed abdomen with large yellow petals to resemble a sunflower. Another individual has styled his thick back hair into the form of a cross. As we round a bend, the vista unfolds, unveiling the vast Atlantic Ocean and the distant figure of Christ the Redeemer. This moment fills me with elation. Often in my life, I question whether I’m overlooking greater opportunities elsewhere. However, at this instant, I am convinced that nothing could surpass what I’m experiencing.
Somewhat superstitious about the possibility of spoiling good memories, I’ve rarely returned to a place I’ve been on holiday. But two years ago, I had the best week of my life at Carnival in
Rio de Janeiro
.
I desperately want to replicate it, yet I’m not optimistic. Success seems to hinge on a mix of luck—good weather and friendly folks—that comes together for a great vacation. Since I’m traveling alone again, I realize I won’t have much say in whom I meet and spend my time with.
The largest celebration globally
“Carnaval” – the period of celebration leading up to Ash Wednesday has its roots in pre-Lent indulgence, and takes place all over Brazil. It lasts days, weeks or arguably a month, given the national aptitude for revelry. For visitors, it’s a bucket list opportunity to join a party like no other.
Rio’s skyline is a juxtaposition of favelas dug into mountainsides with rainforests, islands and city lights. Imagine the biggest party in the world – Rio Carnival attracted more than 8m participants this year – set against that backdrop. On my first visit, I’d been amazed by the scale of joyful street parties or “blocos” under sunny skies. This year, the carnival expanded by more than 30 blocos, to 482.
Two years ago, I found myself staying up late every night to watch the parades at the Sambadrome, an enormous, specially constructed venue spanning 700 meters where about 70 Brazilian samba schools vie for the coveted carnival championship title over several days until dawn. These schools spend nearly a full year preparing for this event (though tourists have the option to join one of these schools with minimal notice and participate in less demanding roles). Returning now might not evoke the same feeling of wonderment.
I’ve chosen to embrace the risk. The flights were costly, and despite booking ahead, lodging within the city spikes up to five times the usual price during carnival season. However, I understood that this journey had been long awaited and with turning thirty, I realized that starting a family might complicate such adventures later on.
A truck of nuns
The previous time, I lodged at a hostel located within Favela Vidigal. To make my way down the twisting lanes of the community, I needed to call for a motorcycle taxi, followed by another one to reach downtown. Notably, the accommodation ran out of running water before my departure.
This time, I am staying at the Fairmont hotel overlooking
Copacabana beach
From my balcony, I observe children playing soccer while vendors walk back and forth on the sand, offering the famous green-and-yellow Brazilian bikinis and crafts. The location is convenient for using the subway nearby, where riders consist of samba dancers adorned with sequined bustiers and men transporting decorative items throughout the town, as random individuals join in song.
I head directly for Santa Teresa, a section of town I missed during my previous visit. This tree-lined, artsy neighborhood sits atop a hill where I mingle with throngs of people and dance along to the music from street bands as they play on stone-paved lanes flanked by 19th-century manors. From here, I take in the view of the city sprawled beneath me, with the recognizableSugarloafMountain rising prominently in the background.
At this event, known as the Carmelitas block party, participants celebrate an urban legend about a nun fleeing from the Santa Teresa convent, with attendees attempting to hide her identity. As a truck adorned with women wearing pink habits cruises down the narrow roads, men dressed provocatively as nuns perform lively dances beside it. Overhead, large jellyfish-like lanterns drift in the air, adding to the festive decoration.
Being familiar with an area also means I stress less about dressing appropriately or staying safe. Apart from pickpocketing (a notorious street crime in Rio),
during Carnival
The primary day-time gatherings arrive with an exuberant feeling of hospitality.
‘A kiss is like the Brazilian version of a handshake.’
I also find myself observing various details this time around. An elderly couple throws water from the upper floor of their apartment to help cool down the people below—the daytime temperature hitting 40 degrees Celsius.
I notice a baby in a carrier being bounced at parades, with memes enlarged and displayed on signs carried by revelers – all without context, of course.
A segment from the reality TV program
Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
A scene of a woman scolding a cat.
They say “a kiss is the Brazilian handshake,” and I often witness this firsthand (I’ve been told that during Carnaval, eight seconds of direct eye contact signifies that you must kiss the individual).
The friends I met during my previous visit introduced me to local delicacies like feijoada—a slow-cooked dish of beef and pork in a hearty bean stew—and farofa—toasted cassava. These meals typically cost under £5 each, so I enjoyed ordering them while sitting at simple outdoor tables. As I did, I watched enormous floats—glittering representations of dragons and wheeled temples—move through the streets of Rio.
A Brazilian friend and their friends invited me to join them for the day. Even though they don’t speak English, some of the women manage to convey important information like how to locate bathrooms at street parties using gestures.
I inquire if life in Rio—with its shores, jungles, and vibrant night scenes—truly embodies the ideal lifestyle, and his acquaintances assure me, “Yes, mostly—it’s quite laid-back.” The idea crosses my mind to leave behind my existence in London for this new adventure. However, after just one day of attempting to match their rhythm of constant drinking and revelry under the scorching sun, I concede defeat. As they continue enjoying themselves, I find myself spending the day purchasing chilled waters to douse over myself, eliciting sympathetic looks from them as they watch.
Football and fearlessness
As I step into the hotel elevator dressed in a hula skirt with tassels for a street party, an elegantly attired middle-aged Brazilian lady compliments my appearance. “I feel somewhat uneasy; I wouldn’t typically wear something like this in London,” I confess to her. She responds, “Here, it’s perfectly fine during Carnival.” Adding, “Whenever I venture out, I dress just as casually.”
Whenever there’s tension—whether it’s jostling for position in a throng or believing oneself to be first in line to purchase a drink—it is swiftly alleviated by a soft touch on the hand or a friendly grin.
To refresh myself after events, I take a dip in the Atlantic which caresses the glamorous Ipanema Beach, just like Brazilian actress Fernanda Torres did in the Academy Award-winning film.
I’m Still Here
.
However, not all joyful experiences are novel to me this time. As I soak in the views,
90,000 Brazilians
Of various skin tones and origins, moving together with their arms intertwined and holding flags high, I find myself on the verge of tears.
The carnival embodies an unwavering spirit of openness toward each other and a celebration of life’s joys.
After the carnival ends, I make sure to take some time to soak up the city’s ambiance. I attend a soccer match at the iconic Maracanã Stadium, where Fluminense triumphs over another Rio-based club, Volta Redonda. Despite having only learned about them an hour earlier, I find myself elated by their victory and invigorated by the energy of nearly 80,000 fans in attendance.
In the bustling streets of Rua Uruguaiana, I negotiate over football jerseys and paisley frocks as I browse through glittering Carnival outfits displayed in shop windows.
Going back to a beloved vacation spot was a smart decision. This revisit allowed me to strengthen my bond with Rio’s customs and gain deeper insights into its residents. Just as happens when you invest more time in something, your affection for a location can grow from appreciation to adoration.
How to get there
British Airways operates routes from Heathrow to Rio de Janeiro. You can also connect through other airlines such as TAP Air Portugal with stops in Lisbon, Lufthansa via Frankfurt, KLM via Amsterdam, Iberia via Madrid, and ITA Airways via Rome.
Where to stay
The author was a visitor.
Fairmont Rio de Janeiro Copacabana,
Doubles begin at $408 (£304).
More information
visitbrasil.com/en
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