South America: Carnival - Venture Magazine Issue #1 Pages 12-13
28 Days to Carnival
There are quicker ways to Rio, but Kevin Schluter finds a month-long expedition by overland truck the ultimate scene-setter for the party of a lifetime.
It ended here, in darkness. Sirens screamed, explosions burst overhead, people quivered, shuddered and shook, all to the rhythm of the Latin American heartbeat: samba.
The biggest party in the world had just kicked off – Carnival. It’s celebrated all over Latin America and the Caribbean, but nowhere is the pitch quite as pure or the beat quite as powerful as in Rio de Janeiro. It simply consumes the city. Twenty-four hours a day, for five continuous days and nights, samba is sovereign. This is hedonism at its most colourful and intense. Carnival is the most important cultural event in Brazil and regardless of the time of year, Rio is always getting ready for it.
At the heart of all this sweat, noise and mayhem is the sambódromo, a tiered street specifically designed for samba parades, where the top samba schools each have their hour of glory. And here we were – lost in a swirl of pulsating humanity, celebrating the end of a very long and winding journey across the South American continent.
It seemed like an eternity, but just 28 days ago, one truck, two drivers (Hot Rod & Kris), one tour leader (Smelly), and 12 passengers (myself included) set off from La Paz, Bolivia on the road to Rio.
TOP OF THE
WORLD
Landing at La Paz airport is breathtaking – literally.
At 4000m above sea level this is the world’s highest
capital city and by necessity it boasts a runway that is
twice as long as normal due to the lack of air resistance
to slow the planes down. Make no mistake: the possibility
of stepping off the plane here and dying from altitude sickness
is very real.
On leaving the airport I was welcomed by a big friendly
smile from one of the local taxi drivers. “Hi Gringo,
welcome to La Paz. Let me enlighten your wallet,”
he grinned. It was cold and wet, and I’d just spent
30 hours in transit, so I smiled right back and went along
for the ride, paying twice as much as I should have. From
the Altiplano (airport) you drop almost vertically to the
city centre, and the view that greets you is spectacular.
It seems La Paz is one big sprawling network of Indian street
markets, with big, colourful Campesinas hawking their wares
on every available inch of pavement.
The Fiesta De Alasitas was in full swing. This festival
honours the Virgin of La Paz and Ekeko, the God of Abundance,
and it is unique to the city of La Paz. It has been celebrated
since colonial days and is a great example of the symbiosis
and religious harmony that exists in La Paz. Between January
24 and February 10, people buy all types of objects in miniature,
and have them blessed by a priest in the hope that they
will become a reality within the year. The miniatures include
houses, vehicles, furniture, university degrees and money
– objects that reflect their desires for a better
future, a better life. Being a child of western consumer
culture, I was drawn to the miniature US$1000 notes –
it’s amazing how many will fit into an already-crammed
backpack.
THE DEPTHS
AT THE EDGE OF EARTH
A few days later we descended three thousand feet in altitude
(trebling the temperature and humidity) to Villa Tumari
in the eastern jungles of Bolivia. Parque Machia is a rehabilitation
sanctuary housing sick, abused and neglected wildlife. Their
menagerie includes monkeys, colourful birds, large cats
and dreadlocked hippies – mostly foreigners recovering
from cocaine addictions.
As we crawled up out of the dense eastern jungles and into
the southwestern highlands (stopping at cocaine checkpoints
every half hour) we passed a truck that was virtually exploding
with bananas. “Business Class” was written on
the side of the truck, and about two-dozen passengers clung
to the top of the precarious cargo.
According to the United Nations, 97% of rural Bolivians
live below the poverty line. You can understand why Bolivia
is one of South America’s poorest nations –
since gaining independence 170 years ago, Bolivia has endured
more than 190 different governments.
Flying along on the Salar De Uyuni in a four-wheel-drive was like visiting the edge of the earth. At an altitude of 3660m this massive salt lake (12,106 km2) with its perfectly still surface is an amazing spectacle, reflecting the sky like a mirror. Amazingly, the lake is barely covered by a foot of water in the wet season. Even more enchanting is Isla de Pescadores (the Island of Fishermen), an outcrop of cacti-covered volcanic rock which protrudes like an oasis into the endless miles of salt water.
The terrain around our next destination, Potosi, could have been the surface of Mars. The red, iron-rich hills were topped with patches of snow and the streams ran silver. This was surreal, high altitude desert and at 4070m Potosi is the world’s highest city and one of Bolivia’s poorest towns. But it hasn’t always been like this. Towering over the town is the orange-grey cone of Cerro Rico – The Rich Hill. In 1573, just 28 years after the discovery of silver, Potosi was one of the world’s largest and most prosperous cities, with a population as big as London then: 120,000. This was all thanks to Cerro Rico’s status as the biggest silver mine in the world. However, since the collapse of world tin prices in 1985, desperate miners have barely been able to scrape a living out of the exhausted rock.
The Cerro Rico mine tour provided a unique opportunity to see the harsh conditions the miners work in. As I pulled on my protective clothing – jacket, boots, helmet, battery pack and light – my fear of confined spaces became very real. Rows of small shops sell the necessary equipment for those about to plunge into the depths of the mine: Sengria (50% proof wine), cigarettes, coca leaves, matches, pure alcohol, nitro-glycerin, dynamite and detonators. I didn’t feel entirely safe carrying this explosive mix around, and handing it over to a group of drunken miners at the mine entrance didn’t make me feel any better. Our guide Pedro explained that their intoxicated state was due to the local soccer team’s victory in the day’s game. With cheeks stuffed with coca leaves, they swaggered about singing, shouting, play fighting and urinating.
The rickety mine entrance could have easily been the gate to hell. Pedro stopped in a small cavern just inside the entrance, and pointed out an inanimate figure seated on a throne, El Tio. The name literally means Uncle, but the colour, horns and endowment of El Tio betrayed his real identity – the Devil. The coca leaves, Sengria and cigarettes were symbolic offerings made by the miners for protection, luck and a safe return from Cerro’s belly. “For the miners,” Pedro said, “these mines belong to the Devil.” You can understand why – so many men have died in these mines from a combination of accidents, exhaustion, collapsing shafts or silicosis.
Around two kilometres below the surface, the temperature was a stifling 35 degrees. Breathing became very difficult as we crawled on our hands and knees to where the miners were drilling for silver and zinc. It was here that my fear of confined spaces began to take control. Common sense told me that freaking out this far from daylight was not a good idea but when, an hour later, I literally saw the light at the end of the tunnel I savoured every glorious breath of fresh air.
FALLING FOR
RIO
Day 14 marked the halfway point in our journey. We descended
into the stunning Humahuaca Canyon, taking time to stop
at the Inca ruins of Tilcara and the seven-coloured mountain
of Purmamarca. Exhausted, we reached Salta – one of
the best-preserved colonial cities in Argentina –
by nightfall.
Argentina has had plenty to cry about in recent times. In December 2001 it plunged into economic and political turmoil after defaulting on a US$132 billion loan repayment – the largest non-payment in history. This financial meltdown doomed Argentina to five different presidents within two weeks and caused widespread civil chaos in which 27 people were killed amid rioting and looting.
Even so, Argentineans are expert at celebrating – something we managed to do a lot of in our first evening in Salta. A night on the infamous ‘tropical punch’ (brewed by our clever tour guide) had one traveller chased by a drag queen, another quoting pick-up lines from a Spanish phrase book and the whole gang doing the tango to a local rock ‘n roll band who played until dawn.
Three full days on the road saw us sweeping across the cotton
and cropping fields of northern Argentina, camping a night
at a local zoo (where a lion roared through the night),
stopping at the biggest supermarket I’d ever seen
and visiting the Jesuit ruins of San Ignacio Miní
before crossing into Brazil at Iguazú Falls.
These spectacular falls lie just east of where the Iguazú
and Paraná rivers meet. Viewable from both the Brazilian
and Argentinean sides, at least 5000 cubic metres of water
per second plunge the 70 metres through 275 separate cascades,
the most mesmerizing being Garganta do Diabo or “Devil’s
Throat”. This was my chance to be a tourist –
and one helicopter ride, a jungle trip, a jet boat run,
waterfall dunking, a train journey and hours of walking
later, I’d succeeded.
Stopping in Paraty, four hours south of Rio on Brazil’s stunning Emerald Coast, gave everybody a chance to unwind and relax after the gruelling 25-hour mission from Foz. After three days, a Schooner trip to the nearby islands, a good dose of vitamin D and some sand between the toes, I was ready for Rio and Carnival.
The Other Party
Though Rio’s Carnival is the most spectacular, its
carefully-rehearsed processions can’t match the exuberant
displays in Salvador, far to the north, where every spectator
quickly becomes part of the carnival – a participant
rather than observer.
Set on the shores of the northern state of Bahia, Salvador has a much more African feel and celebrates Carnival in a week-long party, changing in mood from one part of the city to another. In one area the Carnival takes place around trio elétricos, a semi-trailer loaded with thousands of watts of sound equipment and with a band playing on top. They parade slowly along two circuits, followed by roped areas called blocos, roped areas containing dancers. You can pay to join a bloco: you’ll be given a t-shirt to prove your right to dance with the truck.
Alternatively, you can join the crowds outside the roped-off areas, known as pipoca (literally: popcorn), and cruise the barracas, freelance bars, often with their own sound systems, that turn Salvador into a city of ten thousand parties. To keep yourself going there are vendors everywhere selling beers and batidas, killer-strength mixtures of cachaça and fruit juices. Muvuca! ("madness").
KUMUKA’S
SOUTH AMERICA
We’ve got South America by the scruff of the neck.
We visit all the key attractions and much in between, and
the range of experiences are as wide as the attractions
visited.
Overland tours Kumuka offer a total of 16 itineraries using our famous blue trucks. Some specialise in either the east or west, while others traverse the continent. Durations range from a 10-day Sierra Tour through Argentina and Chile to the 63-day South American Explorer, which takes in five countries down the western flank. And just to make things more exciting, you can also link tours in up to eight combination tours highlighted in our brochure.
Local Transport tours These hugely popular tours use local buses, air transfers or speedboats to provide a rich experience that really gets you under the skin of the community. We take the hassle out of it by organising all the logistics, and you’ll enjoy some flexibility and the comforts of hotel accommodation.
Kevin Schluter took our andes falls and beaches tour:
- Week 1 La Paz – Rurrenabaque – Sucre
- Week 1 Potosi – Uyuni – Tupiza – Uyuni Salt Flats
- Week 1 Humahuaca Canyon – Salta – Chaco
- Week 1 Iguazu Falls – Parati – Rio de Janeiro
KUMUKA’S CARNIVAL
The Andes Falls and Beaches tour is one of four programmes to coincide with the Carnival. Our specialist Carnival Experience tour starts in Rio and ends, 14 days later, in Salvador, taking in some of the highlights of this country along the way.
FLIGHTCHECK:
We offer flights to
Brazil from £490 return.
