A few decades ago, Belo Horizonte had carnival parades on its main downtown avenue as well as off-season carnavalesque events such as
Carnabelô, but nothing compared to the famed events happening in Rio or Salvador. Rightful complaints about excessive noise and damage to public and private property, among other problems, caused the partying to cease. There was also a growing feeling of meaninglessness(?) in that kind of carnival gathering with giant packed crowds pushing havoc in search of alcoholic drinks, elusive restrooms and nonexistent perching spots (=room) close to the trios elétricos – treble-deck trucks featuring musicians and dancers who produced very little apart from lewd, sexist songs and choreography to the boring sound of repetitive beats. Many felt that those events detracted from Minas Gerais spirit of introspective culture, poetic tradition and intimate folklore. While this issue still raises a lot of controversy, many locals thank God and the creation of new laws – or prohibitions – which have 'transformed' Belo Horizonte into a quiet metropolis during the Carnival extended holiday, when those who like to party out and loud leave the city towards the hot and crowded destinations.
There is even this misleading Manichean imagery propagated in social circles and networking of "carnival lovers vs. 'art' lovers"; of "samba/axé fans vs. 'learned' people", pretty much like “athletes versus nerds.'” As a matter of fact, during the Carnival break, nightclubs, cinemas and theaters in Belo offer promotions for those who rejected the Carnaval madness happening elsewhere and stayed in the arms of the “silent” city.
Well, well, well, but isn't carnival running in our blood? In the past few years, a new kind of Carnival has started to take shape in Belo. Traditional neighborhood blocos – groups of revelers dancing after a local band – which never really disappeared, started attracting young revelers to a more “intimate” and “back-to-the-roots” kind of party – as Seth Kugel describes so well in a
NYT article. The fanfare starts on the weekends preceding the Carnival week, to attend to a majority of revelers who have already booked their holidays in those traditional carnavalesque destinations where they will soon be heading. Classic blocos which go out onto the streets on Saturday prior to Carnival Saturday include Banda Mole (Soft Band) – when, typically, men dress up as women – and Mamá na Vaca (roughly “Suckling the Cow”) – inspired by a traditional long-standing cow-parade-like sculpture on a local street which revelers dance around in the mode of a light-spirited and humorous
Golden Calf worshiping.
Monobloco performs at Praça da Liberdade, ahead of 'Carnival Week'.
Bloco Mamá na Vaca, in the Santo Antônio neighborhood.
Mamá na Vaca's revelers.
Banda Mole
Finally, during the four days preceding Ash Wednesday, those who stayed behind, either because they don't like the big mess elsewhere or because they couldn’t afford a trip out of town , joined the local blocos and the new initiatives by artistic groups who have successfully been able to bring back the good marchinha*-based Carnival to the streets of Belo. The “love-happiness-peace-and-music-is-in-the-air” atmosphere that I saw in the pictures will surely make me stay in town next year.
*marchinhas = traditional Carnival marches with playful lyrics written specifically for each local bloco.
The 2012 Belo's carnival party that I unfortunately missed.
Aftermath
As feared by many, an event happening prior to the Carnival Week in beautiful
Praça da Liberdade, caused quite some destruction. A massive crowd, who turned out to be too big and careless – and that apparently differ from those more environmentally-friendly folks who stayed in town during the Carnival Holiday – trampled the lawn, littered the place and broke lamp posts and trash baskets.
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