Prego Batido, hit that nail!

After weeks of absorbing Brazilian rhythms, I finally got my chance at creating some of my own at Prego Batido percussion school. On the recommendation of a friend, I enrolled in a three-day intensive class to learn basic samba rhythms and instrumentation. I barely scratched the surface, but I had one hell of a time.

The hole in the wall school is located off the Avenida Pompeia on a road appropriately named Morro Agudo (Steep Hill). When you walk through the front door you may think you've wandered into someone's home, and you may be right (I never figured out if the school's owner also lived there). The atmosphere is familial, with children running around and friends chatting between classes. The school has an ample collection of books and CDs available to copy.

Some surdos, a repinique, and a tantan

My class was taught by Gabriel de Toledo (you want to see what this kid is all about, check him out here) a young percussion master who was reared on samba. I think he was a bit frustrated at the slow pace we struggled through the rhythms. We spent the first day working on samba de escola (think big Carnaval samba) and then moved to samba de mesa (the samba you hear at bars and in homes). The instrumentation is different--samba de mesa uses pandeiros (tambourines) instead of caixa (snare drums), for example--but the basic rhythm is the same. I think my favorite instrument was the repinique (the drum Gabriel is playing in the video), kind of like a high pitched tom tom.

By the end of the three days I still didn't know what Gabriel was talking about when he referred to the different signature openings and closings of the major Rio samba schools and I still had a hard time starting the agogo pattern on the right beat, but when the five of us found our groove, even if for just a few measures, it felt great.

Da Farofa ao Caviar

Naughty fashion with a heart of gold...

On Monday night I joined some friends for a very special fashion show. "Da Farofa ao Caviar" (means something like "from rags to riches" - farofa is toasted manioc, a humble food) was the latest collection from Daspu* the line of clothing that raises funds for the Brazilian NGO, Davida which works for prostitutes' civil rights. The unveiling of their new line was hosted at the Vai-Vai samba school in the neighborhood of Bixiga and featured members of the percussion section backing up the models as they strutted down the runway.

I had no idea what to expect at a prostitute fashion show. As it turns out, like most things I've experience here in São Paulo, they're a lot of fun. The first thing I saw when I walked into Vai-Vai's large central performance space was a press area packed with cameras and journalists there to record the event. This was apparently a bigger deal than I realized. We waited around for a while, sipping cheap beer and talking to some of the volunteers that helped produce the event.

Then the lights dimmed, and the show began.... Inspired by prostitute-wear the fashion was pretty exciting: tango-flavored bustiers, a sort of Borat-esque short suit, multicolored strappy platform sandals, hot pants--you get the picture. There was also some menswear--all pajamas. Instead of merely parading across the catwalk, the performers, which included prostitutes, professional models, and university students, danced and acted out in short, sultry vignettes to much applause and catcalling from the audience.

After the show a DJ appeared and a dance party began. My friends got their pictures taken with some TV personalities that had appeared to support the event and we danced our booties off alongside the models to everything from samba classics to the Cure. Not bad for a Monday night.

*Daspu is a clever play on the name of Brazil's poshest department store, Daslu.

Comidinha Baiana

Rota do acarajé

On Wednesday I was initiated into the cult of Bahian cuisine at Rota do Acarajé, a restaurant in the neighborhood of Santa Cecília. Since I arrived in Brazil, comida baiana has been described to me as spicy, heavy, delicious, African-influenced, flavorful, greasy, and strange. I have only one word to describe it: delicious.

Rota do Acarajé (recommended by the evening's convener, M.) reminded me of some soul food restaurants in Harlem. Eclectically decorated with mismatched chairs and vintage Bahia memorabilia, it was easy to get comfortable, especially when the ice cold Bohemia started flowing. I took a look at the menu and quickly realized there were more words I didn't know than words I did. I deferred to my Brazilian friends who selected an appetizer of acarajé, and two main dishes, moqueca de cação e camarão and escondidinho de carne seca.

Acarajé (featured to the right with all its fixins') is one of Bahia's signature dishes. It's kind of like a bready hush puppy fried in azeite de dende, the bright orange palm oil applied generously to all Bahian cooking. For me, the best part of the acarajé were its accoutrements: camarão (little dried shrimp), caruru (sauteed okra, ground nuts, and onions ), and, my favorite, vatapá (a mush of ground shrimp, manioc flour, and cashews). I also helped myself to the pimenta, a salsa made from the devilish malegueta chile, which challenged even my chile-raised, New Mexican palette.

The main dishes were served family style and one order of each was enough to feed all six of us. Escondidinho (direct translation would be little tiny hidden one, I think) was a bit like a shepherd's pie, except the meat was shredded dried beef (typical of the hot Northeast region) and the topping was mashed aipim (manioc). I liked the escondidinho, but the moqueca, a seafood stew made with coconut milk, vegetables, garlic, cilantro, and tomato, won my heart. The cação (shark) was unbelievably tender and gently perfumed by the coconut milk and herbs. There were a was a tasty side dish, like a manioc polenta, called pirão, and fluffy white rice to soak up the moqueca.

Bahian food was nurtured into being by the West Africans forced to Brazil as slaves over 300 years ago, who incorporated both New World ingredients and Portuguese and Indian preparations into their traditional cuisine. Today, Bahian cuisine is the most distinctive and reputed in Brazil. Compared to the traditional Brazilian fare I've sampled in São Paulo--lots of beans, rice, manioc, beef and pork, and flavored mostly with garlic, parsley, lime, and salt--this meal was downright revolutionary. So many different spices and textures! Add to that lively conversation with new friends (in Portuguese, no less), and a table-side samba trio (trombone, bass drum, and snare) and I was one happy girl. And let's not forget the sobremesa of homemade tapioca ice cream flavored with honey and specked with fresh coconut. Adorei!

Dani Gurgel and Mão de Oito

And so my week of music continues...

On Thursday I attended two performances. The first was part of a new concert series in Casa das Caldeiras, Caldeira Acoustica. They open up the space's cavernous basement up for intimate performances of Musica Popular Brasileira (bossa nova and the like). The venue is well-suited for this sort of concert--low lights, warm brick walls, and gently vaulted ceilings. Thursday's act was Dani Gurgel, a singer/songwriter from Sao Paulo, joined by her 5-piece ensemble and numerous special guests. I enjoyed the show and the very relaxing vibe. My only complaint was the sound mixing, which left me wanting to hear her voice a bit more. That and the keyboard setting, which was a bit too synthetic for my taste.

At Caldeiras I met up with a few friends--a young singer from Argentina, two French artist/producers, and a Brazilian NGO administrator. After the show, we decided to pile into a taxi and make our way up to Rua Augusta (SP's party central) to Studio SP, where our Brazilian friend had a lead on a good concert.

Studio SP, as best as I can tell, is one of Sao Paulo's hottest concert venues and Thursday night's show was proof of this. The band was Mão de Oito, a local pop rock band made up of six talented young musicians. I can't think of how to describe their sound so perhaps it's best if you check out their MySpace page. Their music was easy to listen to, easy to dance to, and well-executed.

The show lasted until maybe 3 am and was followed by a DJ. By the time my entourage and I stumbled out, it was time to think about breakfast. We walked up Augusta towards the Avenida Paulista and stopped off at an already-bustling diner. Lanches (in this context, hot sandwiches) were eaten by all. Mine had perfectly grilled steak, carrots, lettuce, cheese and cream cheese. Uma delicia!

Feijoada on Wednesday

In my recent postings I realize I've been neglecting one of my preferred cultural manifestations: food. Rest assured that this isn't for lack of eating! Today, for example, was my second encounter with feijoada, Brazil's signature dish. Though varying by region, this meal centers around a stew of black beans and meat (usually salt pork ribs and sausage), and is accompanied by rice and other side dishes like couve (collard greens), farofa (toasted and seasoned manioc flour), fried pork fat, and even fried banana. Feijoada is serious eating.

I learned today that feijoada is typically served in restaurants on Wednesday (at least in the Sao Paulo region) and that no self-respecting Brazilian restaurant would dream of excluding it from the menu. Which is how today, after Portuguese class, I found myself ordering a "feijoada medio" (half portion) and a lime juice. When it arrived I wondered what on earth I had committed myself to. The earthenware pot of beans was still boiling, chalk full of pork. The couve was perfectly sauteed with garlic. I ate and ate, but barely made it through half of it. Lucky for me, two of my classmates had joined me and generously offered to help me finish the dish. I'm not sure how anyone makes it back to work after a meal like that, but it sure was tasty.

Music on a Sunday

When I left my apartment this past Sunday afternoon I couldn’t have known that I would enjoy not one, not two, but FOUR distinctive musical happenings before I cabbed it back home at midnight. These are the things that happen when you allow yourself the luxury of an unplanned afternoon in a culturally generous city.

My first stop was Parque de Agua Branca, just a few blocks from my house. When I entered the park (this fowl-filled park will have its own entry) I saw a sign announcing Dia da Franca em Sao Paulo (the day of France in Sao Paulo) and heard distant music and applause. Wandering through the park I came across various events: an acrobat hoolahooping atop a swaying pole three stories above the crowd, a parkour exposition and training ground, a puppet show, a troop of clowns miming a raucous busride, and, my favorite, a French brass funk band all of whose members were dressed in trench coats and fedoras. It looked like there would be many good (free) performances to come, but I chose to wander on down Avenida Francisco Mattarrazzo to Casa das Caldeiras, my usual Sunday stomping ground.

This Sunday’s program included three different experimental music workshops and a roundtable discussion on the future of instrumental music in Brazil. One of the workshops performed a few numbers using found-object instruments made from an old metal sink, cardboard tubes, and used computer keyboards.

After Caldeiras I went from low tech to high, meeting some friends for a free concert at the Centro Cultural Itaú, part of the current exhibition, Game Play. I arrived too late to see video games on display in the exhibit, but enjoyed the show. A VJ manipulated old Nintendo and Sega images on a screen behind the DJ who used a laptop, a cymbal, a small key board, and I'm not sure what else to create electronic music out of bits of video game music. It was awesome. And half an hour of it was the perfect amount.  

The night ended with beers at small bar on Rua Wisard in Vila Madalena listening to a woman with a Jobimesque voice croon bossa nova and samba classics. Tudo tranquilo, beleza.

Back to Brazil

I was away. But now I'm back in Brazil and ready to catch you up on my cultural explorations in Sao Paulo. It seems the more I'm doing and seeing, the less time I have to write about it. In the next few posts I'll try to back up to describe some of the things I did and saw in June. 

Here's some eye candy from the three days I spent in Rio de Janeiro with my friend Aline en route to Sao Paulo.  That place is like nowhere else.

MomentoMonumento

A week after my trip out to Morro da Macumba, I had the opportunity to visit a very different sort of urban revitalization project. MomentoMonumento
 was conceived by two French art and architecture collectives, Coloco and Exyzt, to transform an abandoned 22-story glass office building in Sao Paulo’s decayed downtown into a multi-use, multidisciplinary “event building and cultural laboratory” where artists, social organizations, and the public would collaborate. 

By chance, one of my Portuguese classmates was here in Brazil as one of the producers of the project and invited me for a visit. Since the site is not yet open to the public, this was quite a treat. I was shocked to hear that about 30% of usable building space in Sao Paulo's downtown is empty. Walking to the MomentoMonumento building, Edificio Wilton Paes de Almeida, through downtown Sao Paulo, this emptiness was evident. So many beautiful buildings boarded up or falling down. And despite the many pedestrian streets and plazas and parks, there were few places to sit and take it in. 

The Wilton Paes de Almeida building stood out amongst its early-20th century neighbors for its modernity. The idea of MomentoMonumento was to "activate" this abandoned space, once headquarters for a glass company, then property of the federal police. My friend and I were joined by French photographer Franck Gerard  who was in Sao Paulo for the exhibition Arte Fragil, Resistencias.  The three of us explored each of the building's 22 floors. Some were empty, others contained forgotten office furniture, dust and smog-encrusted type writers, boxes of archives (including some interesting contraband!), even an old dentist chair. It all felt very post-apocalyptic. MomentoMonumento hasn't yet begun to occupy the space, but it will be interesting once they do. 

The best part of the climb up was the view from the roof--a panorama of Sao Paulo's never-ending cityscape. 

Morro da Macumba: Art and Community Development

One Friday in June, I took a bus an hour outside of the city to the residential park of Cocaia, one of many low-income communities clustered to the south of Sao Paulo. I was invited by Jonato and Paula, who grew up in the area, to visit their graffiti mural project, Morro da Macumba. The objective of Morro da Macumba was to “tell the history of the neighborhood’s construction” through a multimedia mural while beautifying the run-down neighborhood.

The visit to the exterior communities was eye opening for me. Though Cocaia has infrastructure like public transportation, electricity, and public schools, the trash collection is all but non-existent and makeshift houses are stacked up one atop the other. 

The Morro da Macumba mural took about a year to complete and involved collecting oral histories from residents, new and old, and involving the community in the creation of the mural and sculptures, relying heavily on found objects in the neighborhood (the tree pictured below is made from leaves cut from plastic bottles). The result is a colorful mural that parades along the facades of residences and businesses, and depicts the history of Cocaia from its undeveloped natural state, to the arrivals of immigrants from the northeast of Brazil, to the growth and evolution of the community and its residents. Opposite the main mural are written the oral testimonies they recorded from the local residents, many of whom were founders of the community.

Paula and Jonato told me about the community’s reaction to the project. Many residents who didn’t live on the mural route decided to paint their own homes or try their hands at graffiti. Teenagers who helped the artists on the project have been given their own walls to design elsewhere in the neighborhood. The residents have gotten used to outsiders, including foreigners like myself, visiting their neighborhood. The mural has become a source of local pride and identity.

The artists of Morro da Macumba will soon be headed to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they will be in residence at the Santa Fe Art Institute. They hope to realize a related project within the immigrant community there.