See You on Ash Wednesday!

Carnaval is in full swing. So, we're allowed to forget what ails this beautiful place...at least, til Ash Wednesday! The streets have been taken by clowns, ballerinas, hula dancers, pirates, and lovely butterflies. Drums, assorted percussion, bands...leis, masks, hair adornments, and confetti for sale everywhere. Mercifully, someone thought of prohibiting those awful cans of white foam. But, since there aren't any chemical bathrooms for the thousands of men drinking beer on the streets...you know what's going on behind every tree, bush, and on car tires...Women manage, of course, somehow...

I've been going out and checking a few blocos, the neighborhood street dancing groups. They all have hilarious names that reference a landmark, like Sovaco do Cristo (Christ's Armpit, because the statue is right up there from us); a profession, as in Imprensa Que Eu Gamo (Squeeze Me And I'll Fall in Love With You, because imprensa happens to be also the word for "press" and the group was founded by journalists); or a favorite bar. Some are now so gigantic, it's become impossible to join them. Others are still more or less limited to people in the general area and I tend to favor these.

One of my favorite carnaval songs is called "See You on Ash Wednesday." It's about a couple that last year didn't go out dancing in the streets, and their costumes, which were left hanging, unworn, in the closet. This year, though, they're taking a different approach: each one is going his or her separate way and they'll be back together on Ash Wednesday, no harm done. The last verses go something like this:

If my bloco runs into yours, by chance
No harm done, no one has died...
There are three days of fun
You there, me somewhere else
See you on Ash Wednesday!

Well, that's it, then: See You All on Ash Wednesday! Have a great Carnaval everyone!

PS - That's my Simpatia É Quase Amor t-shirt from 2005, maybe, and my necklaces from Mardi Gras in New Orleans...quite a few years ago, for sure!

PPS - I found out to my dismay that women don't manage, actually. Thanks to a young lady with her panties down, crouching next to my building, peeing behind a parked car.