Hosing Down the Streets

Carnaval officially ended for me the way it began. After returning home a few hours before daybreak, I was up again at ten in the morning to celebrate the last event of the weeklong festival. The sun was scorching, but two American friends and I made our way to the Barra Carnaval circuit, Avenida Oceanica, where much of the past week’s party had taken place. The entire city was calm, mellowed by a mass hangover - fatigue induced by six straight days of pre-lenten celebration. Finally we began to hear the booming bass of the final performance and positioned ourselves behind the trio-electrico of Timbalada, the same band we saw perform on Carnaval’s opening day.

This performance was open. There were no cords and entrance fees. The frenetic dancing that typically followed the trio was replaced by what could be characterized as a festive procession. Hundreds of people making the most of the last bit of the week’s revelry, but also saying farewell to a week’s worth of memories and welcoming the slow end of summer in the southern hemisphere.

As the procession continued, we slowly started to lag farther behind the trio carrying the band. My half-hearted samba shuffle slowed to a slight skip in my step. Then I assented to just nodding my head with the music as I walked along with the hundreds of other Bahians, Brazilians, and foreigners in the streets.

The sun continued to sear down on the pavement and I wrapped my shirt around my head and neck to protect the slight sunburns I had from previous days on the beach. Instead of the typical light Brazilian beer, I opted to buy a pop and bottled water from the vendor on the street. On the side of the road, the camarotes, the temporary structures lining the streets that had housed private parties with prime views of the Carnaval circuits, were literally being dismantled. A few of the camarotes were still partly filled with small groups of onlookers, but most were now only inhabited by construction workers, unscrewing nuts and bolts, jump-starting the city’s transformation back to normality.

The sun was starting to become unbearable when a slight mist began to rain down. It rained almost everyday over the past week, sometimes drenching everyone and everything, but today the drizzle remained light and refreshing. Some members of the procession raised their arms to the sky, thanking God or the spirits of Carnaval, for the rain or Carnaval – perhaps both. The trio continued to outpace my continually slowing steps, and the music, like Carnaval, faded away. After the trio finally finished, an army of city employees with rakes and brooms flooded the streets and began to sweep away the garbage in the streets. Municipal cars and trucks followed with tanks of soap and high-powered water hoses. The streets were cleansed and in a matter of minutes the remnants of Carnaval had been washed away. The music was over. The crowds dispersed.