The Chronicles of a "Gringa" Passista

First things first, I don't like being called 'Gringa'. A Gringa or Gringo, is a boorish outsider, willingly ignorant to the ways of the place they are visiting... but I've accepted to a point that a "Gringa passista" is how people will see me  - and indeed refer to me - initially, once they realise that not only am I not from the neighbourhood of Vila Isabel, but I'm not from Rio. In fact, I'm not even from Brazil. But here I am.

I'm sure some of you have been wondering what I've been up to recently. You knew I came to Rio but then apparently disappeared (and for that I apologise). So what am I doing here?

Since 2009, when I started dancing with the London School of Samba (LSS), I've watched videos of amazing passistas (samba dancers) making this complicated dance look so easy and graceful and magical. I wanted to be them. I chose Rio's Vila Isabel samba school because I liked what it stood for: history, tradition, love and samba. I had been invited to audition for Unidos da Tijuca – another incredible, prize winning school, known for its constant innovation and explosive parades. However, as a dancer, there was always something about the passistas that I didn't quite connect with. At Vila, I would always see a variety of styles, elegant sensuality but mainly ferocious samba no pé (basic samba step). And as for the male dancers, the malandros,... I have no words. So yes, Vila Isabel was my first choice. The perfect place to grow, learn and improve on what I'd learned from my amazing dance teachers in London. As champion of Carnaval 2013, Vila Isabel was probably the most ambitious one to try, but there I was, trying anyway.

I arrived at the quadra (samba school's base) of Vila Isabel one Wednesday in October for an ensaio communidade (community rehearsal) with my boyfriend by my side for support. My aim – lofty as heck – was to find whoever was in charge of the ala passista (passista section) and convince them to let me join and parade in Carnaval 2014.

I found the Director, Edson, and introduced myself.
“My name is Karla, I'm here from London and I just want to know what it would take to join the passistas and dance with you guys.”

He first suggested that I could take samba classes, some of the passistas were teachers and I could have lessons from them. But I glanced at my boyfriend (who had earlier told me to not be afraid to big myself up “fake it til you make it, babe”) so I looked Edson in the eye and said “Oh, I KNOW how to samba...” After a beat, he told me that there isn't an exam to be a passista for Vila – you just have to show him what you can do. Show him that you're worth it.

“Mostra, e eu vejo.” - Bring it and I'll see...

So the following Saturday, this time with my friend Natasha and soul sister Ana, I dressed up, put my heels on and went to a Feijoada (a party where the traditional Brazilian dish is served) in the quadra. Edson had told me that it would start at 14:00. I arrived at 17:00 (this was Rio after all).

The show started at 19:00. This Carioca timing does take some getting used to...

Once the bateria (drum section) started, the passistas created a roda (dance circle) and each entered to shine. When they were done, Edson came over and invited me into the circle with a male passista for company. It was all a blur. I had been worrying about slipping out of my shoes and making sure the fly on my shorts didn't come down but the second the beat came in, I let the rhythm of the bateria take me because, YOLO. I went for it. Danced my heart out. I didn't realise it until the end when I looked up, that the women were smiling at me and Edson, unsmiling, was nodding his head. At the end of the roda, I went over to ask what he thought.

“Come on Wednesday. 20:00. Wear blue and white – little shorts or a skirt and bring high heels.” #Proud #Nailedit #OMGWHATdoIwear!?

After a rehearsal. Sweaty and happy.
Photo courtesy of Joel Bergner via Instagram

Since then, I've gone to every rehearsal. Wednesdays for the community rehearsal with all of the alas; and Saturdays for the shows (except one as I was visiting Salvador). It's important to show dedication, and there is a register for you to sign to make sure you're there. Miss two rehearsals with no valid excuse and you, dear dancer, are OUT. The shows are always amazing and this close to carnival there are often celebrities visiting, Like the time Seu Jorge waltzed in with Spike Lee, later followed by Mart'Nalia. Other samba schools visit too. Since I joined, we've hosted samba schools such as Cubango, Innocentes de Belford Roxo, as well as a carnival party to which 17 schools attended and Carlinhos do Salgueiro and his Acadêmicos do Salgueiro dancers brought this...

                                       
                                                     Video by Karla-Jayne Thomas

Yesterday (Saturday, 18^th January) I realised pretty early in the day that I wouldn't be able to dance that night, but I knew I had to go anyway to show my face and sign that damned register. When I arrived, there was a LOT of commotion, cameras and clevage. The competition to elect the Gay Queen (Rainha Gay) of Rio was to take place in the quadra of Vila. Many of Rainhas of samba schools from all over Rio were there as judges, including Ana Paula Evangelista (Mocidade Independente de Padre Miguel), Raissa de Oliveira (Beija Flor), Sabrina Sato (Vila Isabel, of course), Patricia Nery (Portela) and Carla Prata (Rocinha). Rainhas or Queens are highlight dancers who act as Muse for the bateria, dancing in front of them during shows and parades.

During the break in the competition (which was incredible and glamorous, by the way) the bateria played some classic enredos (samba songs) and some of the queens came down to dance in the middle of them. I always feel dejected when I think about how many queens pay for the privilege of being there, but there was a moment when Raissa de Oliveira was dancing with the caixa section, singing all of the words to an old Mocidade enredo (Vira, Virou for you samba geeks) and Ana Paula joined her, that I saw all the pure joy and elation that samba brings to me. I felt it while I was queen of the London School of Samba at every gig, and ultimately it's what led me here to Rio.

So what if I have to work a little harder to prove myself to the Carioca passistas at Vila (most of whom are extremely nice) because I'm new and because I'm not from there. So what if I have to work a little harder to get Edson to pick me out to dance solos like the other girls. So, I have to root around Rio to find the shoes they wear or to find a seamstress that they seemingly all have had since birth but can never remember the names of. But I will do it. Because I love it.


Karla x