So, my friend Maria and her traveling company, Magdalena, were arriving back today from traveling around Colombia, after a quick phone conversation it was clear that they were very tired and in no fit state to go out. So. I had found out about a salsa night in Pelourinho (the old quarter) at a certain Sankofa African Bar which apparently had a live salsa band. I rang up and the woman assured me it started at 10 sharp. So I got a taxi for just before 11, I arrived…to find myself the only one in the place. Hoohum. My first lesson on Brazilian timing! However, outside was a riot of noise and colour as the city was heating up for carnival. You could almost smell the anticipation in the air. I began to wander around the streets taking in the sights, smells and sounds. The streets were already pretty busy, so was lucky that I am so tall. I am not sure why but most of the men seemed to be of the very short skinny boyish build variety, so I felt rather grand striding through the ranks. Lol.
Gangs of men and teenagers filled the streets, loitering round the beer stands, or leaning against walls, often just standing without talking, if they were immersed in conversation, this was quickly faltered if a female (of basically any age) walked past. The gender ratio was about 3 to 4 men to every female. Loud carnival/samba, funk, reggae (pronounced heh-gae) and pagoda blasted from every corner. I have noticed throughout my travels in Latin America that a sound technicians job is generally to make everything as loud as possible, especially the bass. The louder the better. The few woman that were around were generally with their boyfriends, there were small groups of younger looking women (around 14-18) but very few older. Although of course, appearance of age is very deceptive here. A boy appearing to be about 19,20 will probably be in his late 20´s.
After about half an hour of wandering around, following a samba procession, watching a group of exceptionally good dancers,and generally soaking up the elevated fiesta type atmosphere, I happened to follow a girl of about my height with the most AMAZING afro though an archway tucked away in a side street. It opened up into a medium sized courtyard rammed with people. An 8 sq foot back stage had been erected and was filled with a 5 piece band playing a mix of Pagode and other regional Brazilian music (Pagode is a kind of slower Brazilian reggaeton meets dancehall) I danced for a while in the centre of the crowd, feeding off the endless unsurpassable energy that a crowd of Brazilians always seem to give out. A cold drink quickly became very desirable, so in heading in the direction of the nearest large SCHOL sign (a Brazilian beer) I passed the group of dancers i´d seen earlier. One purchased bebida (drink) later I made my way back to stand closeish to the group of dancers to watch. I wasn't even dancing, more concerned with the much needed refreshment. To my delight a more´latiný sounding track came on and on of the dancers suddenly grabbed me, almost spilling the rest of my drink in the process, and started dancing with me….dancing salsa! No joke. I mean to him it could have been a faster Forro (its similar in places). To me, well the big fat smile of my face said it all. It was one of those ´I feel like giving a big thumbs up to God moments´. Layan (the dancer) was pretty good at Cuban too! And surprisingly strong too (seeing as he was only 5ft 6) before I knew it I was being flung onto one hip and then the other (rocknroll styley), flipped around and then over his back, over 360¨and then dipped, before continuing dancing. I normally really don’t like people I don't know flipping me as lots of men do not know how to do it properly. However with Layan I felt surprisingly safe. Layan is a classic example of what I was talking about earlier, he has a short slim boyish build and quite baby looking face. It turned out he was 27. Humph? I was later introduced to the group and we all proceeded to dance away until about 1am when about half of us headed to Sankofa – and salsa :)
Climbing the stairs to the venue up to where the salsa band was situated was like approaching a hot and steamy shower room. Once actually on the darkened floor it was difficult to breathe it was SO hot. The room was absolutely jam packed with darkened writhing bodies. Think a bigger Cubanas with the lights off (Sheffieldonians), the Casa but with about 5 times as many people (Liverpool dwellers), or La Floradita times 10 (Londonites). The air felt thick, wet, and hard to swallow, the humidity and heat pressing in from every angle. We'd arrived in between sets so the DJ was currently spinning a mix of carnival, samba, funk, pagode and dancehall. When the band did come on about 20mins later they were actually really good and I managed to find a corner where it was actually possible to dance as opposed to grind and shuffle. At about 3am I pleaded exhaustion to my nearly found danceros, and so two of them accompanied me to the nearby taxi rank to be swiftly winged home to bed. I could feel the fatigue drenching my muscles. I believe my last conscious thought before my head hit the pillow was ´ah well, there’s salsa, I can survive in this town´. Zzzzz.
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