Day 2: So rone-ree!

My second day in Salvador was spent fazendo de gato zapato, although I didn’t know it at the time. We’d gone to buy a place in a bloco for the next day, and after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, went for Bloco Cheiro at R$120 (£30ish) each. The girls were so busy haggling and discussing what they could afford and so on, that I had very little idea of what was going on amid all the rapid, slang-ridden Portuguese and unexplained changes of plan.

It was only when we finally went for dinner that they explained that fazendo de gato zapato means just going along with everything without question. I'm not sure whether it would translate better as 'easy-going' or 'brain-dead', to be honest, but thought it might be better not to know. Anyway, it usually works out fine; in the restaurant, for instance, they ordered moqueca, a local speciality of saffron-spiced prawn stew that I’d always wanted to try, and it was gorjus.

The girls were tired and anticipating a long day tomorrow, so they decided to stay in that night. There was no way I was watching any of what could be my last ever Carnaval on TV, though, and to be honest I was very happy to spend one night doing exactly as I wanted. This was to return to Barra, the area where M2 and I had stayed in 2004 and one of the two big circuits, and the only one next to the beach.

I got the bus back into town quite easily, apart from attempting to flag one down from the wrong side of the road. Briefly puzzled by the driver’s blank stare, I then felt like an utter spazz, as everyone else politely ignored the waving nutter and boarded the bus which was now pulling up on our side. MEH.

But it was a longer ride than I’d expected, and I didn’t get to Barra till 9.30. The girls had said that the best bands would have gone by about ten or eleven, and I started to wonder if this was really such a good idea. More so when the first thing I saw at the main Avenida da Barra was a crowd of people and paramedics; obviously the aftermath of a fight. I peered through and saw a man and quite a lot of blood, although luckily he was conscious and moving. For some reason, this failed to lift my mood, as did being briskly shoved aside a moment later. The street had started filling up with the surge of people that always precedes a float, a bit like when Arwen calls up the river waters in Lord of the Rings.[/geek moment] I stepped up onto the pavement among the beer sellers to avoid the crush, and began to sway rather listlessly to the end of a tune I didn’t know.

Seconds later, the first bars of possibly my all-time favourite Brazilian tune, the undisputed anthem of 2004, crashed out from the sound system. The float was Daniela Mercury’s, the song was Maimbê Dandâ, and I was over the moon. I’m embarrassed to say I was actually blinking back tears… it felt like 2004 all over again, when all this was a shiny new adventure and I danced all night and came home on a quiet bus as the pearly dawn light coloured the entire bay a delicate rose-pink, while a group at the back softly sang this same tune.

So it all came right in the end, and I danced alone or with randoms for a few hours, drank beer, and cheerfully dodged three or four nasty but short-lived fights and a rather persistent cordeiro. I have to admit that the police, humourless vicious bastards as they are (more on this later), are also so ubiquitous that they are there in seconds when a fight breaks out. Also, the men in general, being typical South American machistas, are pretty protective of the women and I was shielded by complete strangers the only time a minor stampede came anywhere near me.

It was still in full swing at midnight and I was *dying* to stay, but had promised Aline I’d be back by 12, so reluctantly went to get a taxi. The taxista was shocked that I’d refused to kiss the guy who’d showed me where the taxi rank was, and spent the whole ride telling me how I couldn’t leave without sampling the local negrinhos (just about translatable as ‘homeboys’).
Those very male double standards - you can't really call it logic - about the fidelity of other people's girlfriends made me laugh so much that it was actually quite a good end to the night. I always seem to forget how little of a language I know when I'm blasting people... it's very odd. ;-)