Picture this. It is the middle of summer on a Saturday morning in the downtown area of Rio de Janeiro. It’s only 8:45AM, but the temperature is already as high as 32° Celsius – and later today it will go up to 41°. There aren’t many trees in the business district, which means you find no shade to try and get away from the merciless sun. The heat is unbearable. You think you’re about to faint. Then, as if out of thin – or rather thick – air, a small group of people carrying percussion instruments arrive on the scene. Minutes later few others wearing black and white costumes and heavy makeup join in. Then more. And more. By 9:00AM, there are people everywhere and not one of them seems worried about the heat. Swept away by the general mood, even you forget about it. When the gigantic sound system arrives on top of a big truck the crowd is a huge sea of happy faces. Street vendors show up to sell beer, soft drinks and water. Everyone is waiting for the music to start. And by 9:20AM, when the sound of the tambourine announces that it’s all about to begin, the rich and the poor, the black and the white, the young and the old… everyone goes samba. Same beat. Same sound. Same sweat. You too get carried away. After all, it’s Carnaval in Brazil.
The scene described above was witnessed by this reporter last month at the parade of bloco Cordão do Bola Preta, one of the most traditional in Rio de Janeiro. Created in 1918, this carnival troupe conglomerates local residents and tourists every year during the most popular fiesta of the country. Cordão do Bola Preta is only one of 300 of such blocos that paraded on the street carnival of Rio this year. And the number is on the rise. Every summer, as many as 100 new congregations emerge.

Schools of Samba and their colourful costumes often get the credit, but blocos are the true essence of carnival in Brazil, especially in Rio, where the true carnival samba was ‘born and bred’. Blocos – there is really no English word to translate it – go back a long way. The pagan street party was ‘imported’ by the Portuguese colonisers during the 16th century. Back then only very poor people participated in what was considered an unsophisticated and rather violent gathering. As the years went by the middle classes grew interested in the celebration and the blocos were created.
What are they? Very simply, a get-together with one band [percussion, maybe some brass instruments and a powerful singer], a theme, a samba repertoire, happy, willing people, and a street to parade on. There can be as little as 30 and as many as a million people participating in a bloco [the later number belongs to the traditional Galo da Madrugada, from Recife, a northern city of Brazil]. The nature of blocos is in itself very democratic. Everyone is welcome to join in the spectacle, regardless of gender, age or race. All one needs to do is show up and enjoy. No fees, no dress code. Any group of friends can create their own bloco. Local papers print a list of where and when the blocos are coming and some bloco fanatics follow as many as eight parades a day, as the celebrations go on day and night. 

Some of the larger blocos evolved and mutated into the now widely known Schools of Samba. But theirs has become a more business-like carnival – their parades are more luxurious and colourful, but their nature is less inviting, for carnival lovers are required to pay for tickets both to watch and participate in the parade. Plus, the show is competitive and large sums of money are at stake every year. No wonder that as the Schools of Samba become more and more professional, unorganised and spontaneous street carnival is on the rise in Rio de Janeiro.
Very popular in the 40s and 50s, blocos suffered a decline when the military coup was ruling the country from the 60s through to the early 80s. In those difficult times popular gatherings weren’t encouraged, or even considered safe, and carnival festivities took place mostly on the official processions of Schools of Samba and on private balls, behind closed doors. Carnival troupe enthusiasts could not exercise one of their most entertaining aspects of blocos – their satiric nature. Politicians, personalities and celebrities are usually the main target and no one is spared from ridicule on a bloco parade.
Most blocos have their troupers dance to familiar samba songs. But some take a step further and have musicians compose new songs and lyrics especially made every year. The topics? Current events, the political situation of the country, crime, celebrity faux-pas... But always with an optimistic outlook and lots of humour. For instance, there is one bloco, named Carmelitas, that parades near a convent and has its troupers dress up as nuns. There is one for journalists, another for filmmakers, and so on.

Another funny aspect is the blocos’ names themselves. There are true gems such as Vem Ni Mim Que Sou Facinha [Hit On Me, I’m Easy]; Meu Bem Volto Já [Honey I’ll Be Right Back]; Esse É Bom Mas Ninguém Sabe [This One Is Good But Nobody Knows About It]; Me Beija Que Sou Cienasta [Kiss Me For I Am a Film Maker]; and Suvaco de Cristo [Christ’s Armpit], which parades as if ‘under the armpit’ of the famous Corcovado statue that can be seen on top of a hill in Rio... And these are just a few.

After Christmas’ and New Year’s celebrations, and having endured a usually brain-toasting summer, locals believe it is only after carnival is over that the year really begins. In Rio, the last of the fiesta is celebrated on the day known as Wednesday Ashes. The following year, from those ashes, the phoenix of carnaval rises again. And again…