Notes from the TEFL Graveyard

Wistful reflections, petty glories.

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Location: The House of Usher, Brazil

I'm a flailing TEFL teacher who entered the profession over a decade ago to kill some time whilst I tried to find out what I really wanted to do. I like trying to write comedy (I once got to the semi-finals of a BBC Talent competition, ironically writing a sitcom based on TEFL), whilst trying to conquer genetically inherited procrastination... I am now based in Brazil, where I live with my wife and two chins.

Tuesday 29 January 2008

CARNAVAL - DENTAL FLOSS AND WET SHOES

Having recently tracked me down over a longstanding debt, when a long lost school chum learned I was living way down south, he opined, “When I think of Brazil, I think of scantily clad women in feathers and stuff.”
“So do I”, I quipped back, ducking instinctively. But there’s much more to Carnaval than simply food for socks-and-sandal-wearing northern European men to get overemotional about – it’s not just the best use humankind has yet found for drums, sequins and G-strings (or fio dental – dental floss). Oh no.

Hardly has the smoke cleared from the New Year’s fireworks than the annual saturnalia of flesh, samba and more flesh is upon us, when largely conservative Catholic Brazil lapses collectively into up to a fortnight of hedonistic tumult, making you wonder if there hasn’t been some kind of countrywide mix-up involving mushrooms.

The Rio de Janeiro carnival is, of course, the most famous for its lavishness, followed by poor cousin São Paulo, but other regions of Brazil interpret the festivities in their own unique manner. Salvador, the capital of Bahia, leaves aside floats, samba schools and the perfectly choreographed drumming in favour of a free-for-all that takes over the city’s streets, turning it into the largest street party on the planet, regularly attracting around 2 million participants. Ignoring the official carnival dates of Friday to Tuesday, baianos spend at least a week following the “trio eletricos”, more or less open-top buses on which famous bands and singers perform for the delirious populace in tow.

Show’s cousin went there last year and spent the first few days in a hospitality box, before being persuaded to join the multitude jumping around in the streets below. The first two or three hours of this bouncing along was alright, she reported, but as the day wore on she became increasingly disillusioned by the fact that it was impossible to leave the throng due to the sheer numbers involved – even to find a public convenience. The resulting collective letting go in the middle of the crowd created an acrid stench of human waste products strangely at odds with the sweet, sweet music. Arriving back at the hotel after dark and weeping, she threw away her shoes and elected to stay in the comfort of the air-conditioned hospitality box for the rest of the week.

When I first came to Brazil and saw Carnaval, I must admit I was ignorant of the complexities involved. I didn’t realise, for instance, that the parades went on all night, nor was I aware that each samba school has to tell a story using its various components – the floats, the samba song specially written for the occasion and the various choreographed groups of dancers in costume. The carnavalescos, responsible for designing and building the carros alegóricos (floats) are creative genii - many of the materials used are recycled household waste.

Strict time limits are also in place and there are various pernickety rules - the porta-bandeira, a woman charged with carrying the samba school flag, for example, isn’t allowed to let the flag roll. It is a deadly serious business for those involved, especially when the results are announced a couple of days later, overshadowed by the threat of the weaker performers being relegated to the second division.

Being genetically unused to such practices, coming from a country where popular festivities amount to pancake races, morris dancing and one town where people chase a circular cheese down a hill, I tend to watch the first two or three schools from the comfort of my bed, after which I flake out and usually have some strange, but stimulating, dreams.



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Now playing: Alceu Valença - Bicho maluco beleza
via FoxyTunes

9 Comments:

Blogger No Good Boyo said...

Fascinating stuff. I doubt that many North European know about the Hogarthian toilet arrangement either.

Any attempt at this sort of hijinks in Britain tends to dissolve into violent crime around the fringes. Is it all relatively peaceful at carnaval in Brazil?

29 January 2008 at 16:57  
Blogger M C Ward said...

It's a bit of a mixed bag, really. Inevitably there are acts of violence, but relatively few per capita compared to what there'd be in Blandford Forum or Slough, I imagine. The favela mafia in Rio generally call an unofficial ceasefire, mainly because they're financing things, although there are isolated incidents of bloodletting between samba schools in the run up. All works along the same principles as the 'Ndrangheta.

29 January 2008 at 17:49  
Blogger No Good Boyo said...

The Slough Carnaval. I can picture it now...

29 January 2008 at 19:53  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shit. When I did capoeira (in UK) I seem to remember being told how utterly hedonistic and spiritual the Brazilian carnavals are. But I guess where there's heaps of fun there's also heaps of human excrement and mafiosi creaming it.

Slough will have it's carnaval, I'm sure - kinda like running before you can walk, but at least it'll give them all a proper excuse for throwing a sicky on a Monday ;-)

30 January 2008 at 08:00  
Blogger M C Ward said...

Seja bem-vindo, GadjoDilo.

I didn't mean to denigrate Carnaval by focusing on the medieval lavatory arrangements - Brazilians take it all in their stride, literally as well as figuratively.

As for Slough, I'm sure somebody's working on it. Maybe the Poles with get their act together?

30 January 2008 at 11:48  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

:-) Don't worry, I don't think it came over as denigration. I just wish I was there to see it. The excrement situation can't be worse than at a rock festival with torrential rain and inadequate toilet facilities, and presumably it dries faster. A Polish carnaval in Slough - Gołąbki instead of Feijoada, Chopin instead of Olodum, then Ricky Gervais in a g-string as samba queen? Hmmm!

30 January 2008 at 13:18  
Blogger M C Ward said...

Er, yeah. On second thoughts, I think I'll stay here.

30 January 2008 at 13:23  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dental floss? I'm lost here. Or does it get used as a sort of rough-and-ready cheese-cutter for those white dairy things rolling down the hills/valleys?

I think I've got my wires/floss crossed again...

30 January 2008 at 15:07  
Blogger M C Ward said...

Whilst you probably wouldn't want to use them as dental floss and clean your teeth with them, G-strings are so named because of the small amounts of material employed in their manufacture, which, somebody decided, resembled dental floss.

31 January 2008 at 11:39  

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