|
 To savor Rio de Janeiro's samba schools from a Sambódromo bleacher (arquibancada in Portuguese) means squeezing into a space similar to that of a canned sardine. During the last "Champions' Parade," the arquibancadas were packed so far beyond capacity that it was almost impossible to turn around. Surviving this nine-hour crunch required going with the flow and creating an improvised kind of intimacy.
These two Brazilian talents allowed those in my arquibancada to adjust to the lack of space, rather than fight over it. Despite arriving a little early, my wife and I had to gently wedge our way into what little room was left on the "yellow strip."
This yellow-painted corridor of steps leads to and from the bathrooms/food stands and isn't meant to be occupied. To accommodate those in transit, strip occupants had to constantly squeeze sideways, an accordion movement that forms cracks in the human wall.
The majority who didn't ram through them helped prevent what could easily have become "arqui-bagunçada" or arch-bedlam.
When sitting on the yellow strip in between samba school processions, being able to go with the flow prepares you for the uncivilized few that prefer scaling the human wall.
An "alpinist" began scaling this wall, using peoples' laps as footholds and placing his hands on their heads for balance as he climbed.
Although everyone cursed him, he couldn't have cared less. And he left the sole prints of his tennis shoes on my bermudas as a souvenir.
The bonds formed through creating an improvised intimacy help fill all the dead time - the wait for the first of six samba-school processions and the five 30-45 minute intervals between them. These long intermissions encourage arquibancada strangers to interact - simply to avoid five hours of sheer boredom.
After my wife and I discovered that a woman from Espírito Santo state next to us shared mutual friends, the three of us started an all-night chat that coalesced into an exchange of confidences.
I also got to know the Northern Zone daughter of a Beija Flor official and her boyfriend, distributing flags for their samba school, this year's champion. They lubricated our chat with beers from their plastic beer cooler whose melting ice leaked onto our concrete seats and turned our butts ice cold.
Some arquibancada bonds came pre-formed. Take the bouquet of two elderly American couples that fled after the second samba school because their seats didn't come close to meeting cruise ship standards.
Other bonds resembled those made at raves. A shirtless, drug-happy gringo and an uninhibited Brazilian woman got to know each by exchanging kisses and squeezes. Other bonding attempts failed: take the aging Argentine who tried to flirt with my wife after those beers sent me to the bathroom.
This arquibancada interaction was more democratic than that you'd find at soccer games. At Rio's Maracanã soccer stadium, the middle class can afford moderately-priced reserved seats, thus segregating them from working-class fans in the cheap arquibancadas.
But the Sambódromo offers either astronomically-priced upper-level boxes and street-level tables below the arquibancadas - or the arquibancadas. So, you're either with the very rich or with everyone else, a mix you'll only find at Copacabana beach on New Year's Eve.
An American friend said that my Sambódromo survival story was a lesson in space management, like living in New York. But adjusting to his concrete jungle and my modicum of concrete step can't be compared. Adapting to the arquibancada is an art: it requires not just a cool and calculating head, but a communal heart.
This article was originally published by daily newspaper Folha de S. Paulo.
Michael Kepp is an American journalist who has lived in Brazil for the last 21 years and who has written for Time, Newsweek and many other U.S. publications. He is the author of the book of crônicas Sonhando com Sotaque - Confissões e Desabafos de um Gringo Brasileiro. For more information on the author and book consult www.michaelkepp.com.br.
 |
Subscribe to this comment's feed
as I was reading your article, I was trying to figure out whether you are a Brasillian with a great English... or not. Now, that I´ve come to its end.. I found out that you´re from the US.
The vision you gave in your article is very realistic. I am writing to congratulate you.
So...as we do here in Brazil... " um beijinho"
luciana
lucianavcunha@gmail.com