Photo of the Day (7.6.10)

by Stephen Greenwood on
This week I went aboard Virgin America’s inaugural flight from San Francisco to Toronto; and having visited Toronto only once before when I was young, I didn’t have very high expectations for Canada’s largest city. On this visit, I took the time to explore some of the outlying neighborhoods (Kensington Market) and cultural districts that really give Toronto a sense of flavor and diversity, and saw a different side that I can’t wait to visit again.

Flickr user PDPhotography has an incredible collection of photographs from Toronto that really capture the vibrance & quirks of the city. This shot was captured at the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto, which takes place next month from August 20th to September 6th.

Do you have summertime shots of a city you love? Share them with us! Submit to our Flickr Pool and your image could be our next Photo of the Day!

Carnival in Rio: Joining the throng in the grand finale

by Gadling Staff on

One of the world’s biggest and best-known celebrations wrapped up this week in Rio with record temperatures (soaring to 106 Fahrenheit on Tuesday!) as the mayhem of Carnival slowly came to an end. Over 700,000 visitors came to the city (including a few celebrities like Madonna, Beyonce and Paris Hilton) to join in the five nights of street parties, open-air concerts, costume balls and brilliant parades taking place in the custom-built Sambadrome.

Local officials estimate some 2.5 million feted Carnival in Rio, and this year the city made efforts to bring more orderliness to the often chaotic celebration, adopting the motto “choque de ordem” (the shock of order). Only licensed vendors were allowed to sell beer and other drinks at street parties, and the city installed some 4000 portable toilets around Rio in an effort — largely successful — to combat the rivers of urine that sometimes accompany the 20,000-strong block parties (the city also took a tough stance on revelers who chose to relieve themselves outside of these chemical bathrooms, arresting over 300 this year). It was Rio’s first Carnival since winning the bid to host the 2016 Olympics, and the city seemed determined to prove that it could properly manage such massive gatherings.

On Friday, as I spoke with longtime residents of Rio, Cariocas seemed torn over the best way to celebrate Carnival. Some adored the celebrations, the pageantry of the samba school parades, the gathering of friends old and new at democratic street parties and the donning of costumes for a bit of fun around town. Others detested the crowds and packed beaches, the noise and drunkenness on the streets, and preferred to flee town for more peaceful getaways, like the idyllic coastline near Angra dos Reis to Rio’s west or to the beaches of Buzios to the east.

One family I visited was evenly divided over Carnival. The father and his 12-year-old son were using the holiday to travel north to the cooler mountainous retreat around Teresopolis. As the two packed for an early morning departure, the mom and her teenage daughter, plus a few other family friends, were giddily making costumes for the Banda de Ipanema block party the next day, one of many fests they planned to attend over the next four days. The whole group of them would soon transform themselves into members of French King Louis the Sixteenth’s court, complete with ‘corsets’ (air-brushed form-fitting t-shirts) and ‘powdered wigs’ (sanitary pads pasted onto a foam base that was made of strips of insulation staple-gunned together).

For many Cariocas, the Sambadrome, where the magnificent all-night parades take place, is the focal point of Carnival. Here, Rio’s best escolas de samba (not ‘schools’ per se, but competitive groups of 3000 to 5000, with enormous drum sections, fantastical costumes and huge mechanized floats) would parade before a crowd of 70,000, with millions more watching on TV. Having attended the parade in years past, I decided to take part this year, joining the ranks of Caprichosos de Pilares, a former top school that fell into the second division in 2006 following a lackluster performance. (Anyone who wants can join a samba school and take part in the parade. You simply have to learn the school’s theme song for the year and buy a costume, which runs anywhere from US$150 to US$500.)

This year, Caprichosos pulled out all the stops and revived one of their favorite samba-enredos, the 1985 “E por falar em Saudade,” which took a nostalgic look at the past when days were better in Brazil. The song also challenged the military dictatorship of the time, calling for direct elections and an end to inflation. Like most schools, the costumes were a mix of over-the-top designs–including lunging foam dragons, brightly plumed tropical birds and giant bowls of bean soup. Ten of us gathered at a friend’s place before the parade and we had in our group several cowboys, a gypsy, two pirates, a nurse, a jester, a pair of 1920s flapper girls and even a floral-print-wearing tourist. We joined umbrella-toting clowns, soccer players wearing the colors from Rio’s four soccer clubs, gas station attendants (with fabric gas nozzles attached to their hips) and pink-suited samba stars in our shimmy down “the avenue” (as the 700-meter-long stretch through the Sambadrome is sometimes called).

We danced and did our best with the song lyrics as we paraded through the stadium behind a float packed with bikini-clad samba dancers (the “bunda,” or “bottom,” is something of an icon in Rio’s Carnival, and figured in many floats and even some theme songs, our school notwithstanding). It was an adrenaline rush dancing through an arena of cheering crowds — some of whom waved Caprichosos flags and knew the words to our samba-enredo better than us (indeed, among true escola de samba aficionados, Caprichosos’ 1985 samba-enredo was famous).

Depending on where you sit (and tickets cost anywhere from US$20 to over US$500), watching the parade can be an exhilarating experience, particularly if you get a chance to see some of the top schools perform. This year’s winner (announced on Wednesday) was Unidos da Tijuca, which pulled its first grand prize ever in the school’s 74-year history. The school’s theme was “It’s a Secret,” which conjured images from the great mysteries, myths and legends of history, including Greek temples, Egyptian pyramids and a lush “Hanging Gardens of Babylon” packed with 5000 plants. Just for fun, there was also a heel-kicking Michael Jackson look-alike and a mini ski slope which “Batman” skied down to roaring crowds.

Those that missed seeing Unidos da Tijuca during Carnival still have one last chance to see them again — along with the five runners-up — this Saturday in the parade of champions. Meanwhile, most street parties have come to an end, though there is one last big Carnival gathering this Sunday. In the center of town, Monobloco will bring tens of thousands of revelers back out on the streets for one last adieu to the party that won’t return until 2011.

Read Part 2 of this series, “Rio’s Big Fest: Carnival Hits the Streets.”

Read Part 1 of this series, “Rio’s Big Fest: Behind the Scenes of Brazil’s Famous Fest.”

Gadling TV’s “Travel Talk,” 001: Carnival, flight cancellations, Somaliland, airfare blunders, and more!

by Stephen Greenwood on

Looks like it’s finally time to take the wraps off ONE of the big secrets Gadling has been keeping for a while! Yep, it’s finally time to introduce Gadling’s Travel Talk TV!


Gadling’s Travel Talk TV, episode 1 – Click above to watch video after the jump

Travel Talk TV is Gadling’s version of a travel show. In each episode, we’ll discuss hot travel news; share fun, useful tips for both traveling and bringing your travel experiences back home; spotlight exciting travel destinations; and much more.

In this week’s episode, our hosts — Stephen Greenwood, Aaron Murphy-Crews, and Drew Mylrea — will discuss Carnival, airfare blunders, Somaliland, and who in the travel world got the Short End of the Stick. In addition, they’ll show you how to make a delicious south-of-the-border snack in “Tasteful Destinations”; Nikki will drop by; Bruce! will make an appearance to give you some travel tips… and of course, there’s a whole lot more. Watch it now, below!

If you have any questions or comments about Travel Talk, you can email us at talk AT gadling DOT com.

Be sure to tune in next week, for Episode 2 of Gadling’s Travel Talk TV!

Download the Show: Travel Talk – 001 (HD !!) // Travel Talk – 001 (iPod / iPhone / Zune formatted)

Update – Subscribe via iTunes:
[iTunes] Subscribe to the Show directly in iTunes (M4V).
[RSS M4V] Add the Travel Talk feed (M4V) to your RSS aggregator and have it delivered automatically.


Hosts: Stephen Greenwood, Aaron Murphy-Crews, Drew Mylrea
Special guest: Bruce!
Produced, Edited, and Directed by: Stephen Greenwood, Aaron Murphy-Crews, Drew Mylrea

Music by:
 Dominic Balli & Mark Suhonen
“All We Need is Love (Remix)” [feat. Paul Wright]
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“A Yes, Not a No”
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Rio’s big fest: Carnival hits the streets

by Gadling Staff on

Carnival hasn’t officially started here in Rio, but the revelry has already been underway for days. Beginning last week, the first big street parties kicked off, filling many neighborhoods with revelers singing and dancing down the avenues. These are Rio’s street parades — known locally as bandas and blocos — and are open to all who want to join the party. All you have to do is show up.

Despite their earliest appearance in the 19th century, until recently, there were only a handful of these street parades still going on around town, and most visitors described Salvador in Bahia as the home of true street carnival. (Their disappearance from Rio coincided with the opening of the Sambadrome in 1984, where the colorful samba school parades became the raison d’etre for Carnival.) All that has changed dramatically in the last ten years, as Carnival has returned to the streets with some 465 — nearly double the number from 2009 — free music and dance celebrations happening throughout the city this year. (Copacabana alone will host some 55 street parades.) All in all, the city predicts a turnout of 2.5 million people attending the celebrations.

One of the first to kick off the street fests is the Banda de Ipanema, which takes place two Saturdays before Carnival, and again on Carnival Saturday. Held in Ipanema, it attracts a wildly diverse crowd, many of whom come from well beyond the neighborhood’s boundaries. Long before Vinicius de Moraes and Tom Jobim penned their famous song, ‘Garota de Ipanema’ (Girl from Ipanema), the neighborhood was a desirable one. It’s only become more so in Brazil’s recent boom years, with a clean, lovely beachfront and side streets lined with towering mangueiras (mango trees) and sprinkled with outdoor cafes and restaurants, eye-catching boutiques and lively bars, all favored stomping grounds of Ipanema’s stereotypically young, good-looking — possibly gay and probably wealthy — crowd.

Around 4pm, a few hundred revelers gather in and around Ipanema’s Praca General Osorio, a plaza sprinkled with palms and grassy bits, paved walkways and a concrete fountain that hasn’t seen water for years. Some arrive wearing the Banda’s official t-shirt for the event, which this year pays homage to Brazil’s best-known architect, the still active 102-year-old Oscar Niemeyer. Others are attired in the typical weekend costume of the zona sul (southern neighborhoods): shorts and t-shirts, flip flops (invariably Havaianas) or, less formally, swim trunks and bare chests for the men, bikinis and sarongs for the women. There are a few costumes among the crowd — rainbow-hued mohawks, fairy wings, leather-vested bikies and a few drag queens teetering on six-inch heels — though the more outlandish outfits won’t appear until Carnival Saturday.

The focal point of the gathering is a thirty-piece brass band (the ‘banda’ part of the street parade). They’ll lead everyone in marchinhas, colorful, sometimes racy sing-alongs played during Carnival. There are several hundred well-known marchinhas, some of which date back to Rio’s early street carnivals in the 1890s, and every Carioca knows the lyrics to at least a dozen of these songs. Another point of interest for the crowd is the ubiquitous presence of beer vendors wheeling over-sized coolers around the plaza.

By six pm the crowd has swelled to several thousand, and the band starts moving–the street parade is off. Participants encompass a wide swath of Carioca society — as democratic as the beaches around town, with rich and poor, young and old, all joining together in a singing and dancing mass snaking its way through Ipanema. As the parade reaches Av Vieira Souto, the road running parallel to the ocean, thousands more from the beach clamber up onto the road and join in the revelry. Soon the road is a sea of people, singing and shimmying their way along the waterfront. By day’s end, more than 10,000 will join in.

After a few blocks (and a dozen marchinhas), the banda turns inland and stops beside the Igreja Nossa Senhora da Paz (Our Lady of Peace church). There, the crowd takes on a solemn aspect as the band plays “Carinhoso,” paying homage to the famous composer Pixinguinha who died inside the church while attending a baptism during Carnival. As the band plays the song, some in the crowd are visibly moved, holding hands and crying.

The parade continues as darkness arrives, and in the apartments above the street, solitary figures dance on the balconies. A few revelers call up to those in the windows in a sing-song chant to “come down, come down and join the band.” Meanwhile, the beer vendors are still following alongside the parade, competing against a few enterprising caipirinha vendors, who, holding packed trays of iced drinks aloft, glide seamlessly through the dense crowd. A few inspired revelers climb light posts (some for the view, some to dance rather provocatively with a fixed object). Others carve a space for themselves in the swirling crowd — like the very portly bare-chested man in tiny swim trunks who bounces joyfully and heedlessly about, singing out of key, as his neighboring revelers scurry out of the way. ‘Brazilians are among the least inhibited of people,’ a Carioca friend once explained to me.

It all comes to an end around nine o’clock back in Praca General Osorio, after which fest-goers peel off, filling the bars and restaurants around Ipanema, or heading back to the beach, which despite the late hour remains surprisingly crowded. Like most other nights during this summer in Rio, the humidity is overpowering, and a dip in the ocean provides fast relief from the sweltering heat.

Over the next week, hundreds more street parades will hit the Rio stage. More famous gatherings, like the Cordao de Bola Preta in the center of town, will bring out several hundred thousand. Some blocos have whimsical names, like ‘Simpatia e quase amor’ (Sympathy is almost love) or the well-known Suvaco do Cristo, which roughly translated means ‘the armpit smell of Christ’, a reference to the parade’s location in Jardim Botanica, beneath the outstretched arms of Rio’s well-known Savior. Other fests revolve around neighborhood icons — like the Bloco das Carmelitas, which references the Carmelite monastery in Santa Teresa. Some celebrants even parade through the streets in full habits.

The combined effect of these events, taking place in every corner of the city, is simply transformative. On a typical outing in Rio, it is impossible not to stumble upon one or another street fest. And if time permits, you might as well join in. Spontaneity, after all, is but one of many ingredients in Rio’s Carnival.

Read more: Get a backstage peek at Carnival from our correspondent’s vantage point: “Behind the Scenes of Brazil’s Famous Fest.”

Carnival in Rio: Behind the scenes of Brazil’s famous fest

by Gadling Staff on

It’s summertime in Rio de Janeiro, which brings hot, humid days–sometimes of breathtaking intensity. Afternoon thunderstorms provide occasional relief, though these often erupt without warning, sending everyone scattering for cover under the awning of the nearest juice bar as the skies open up.

Summer also coincides with the tremendous spectacle of Carnival, held in Rio on the days leading up to Ash Wednesday. This year, Carnival officially begins on Friday, February 12th, when the mayor gives the keys of the city to King Momo, the portly pleasure-seeker who ushers in the bacchanalia. The next four days are marked by neighborhood parties, lavish masked balls, open-air concerts on stages all over town and the all-night Technicolor parades held in the specially designed Sambadrome.

When I arrived in mid-January, the city was on holiday for the patron saint of Rio, Sao Sebastiao (the city still has many holidays that revolve around Catholic traditions, Carnival being the best known). Rua Visconde de Piraja, a normally bustling thoroughfare through Ipanema, was empty. Meanwhile a few streets over, the long narrow shoreline was packed. From the rocky outcropping overlooking Ipanema beach, all I could see was a dense mass of yellow umbrellas, with vendors barking their wares (‘Agua! Mate! Cerveja!‘; water, sweet tea, beer) as they wound through a maze of beach chairs and supine sunbathers, racing children and arcing soccer balls. Cyclists and joggers sped along the beachside path, which appeared to run like a straight line into the magnificent green peaks of Dois Irmaos (‘two brothers’) rising majestically in the distance.For most Cariocas, especially residents of Ipanema and neighboring Leblon–another well-heeled district–Carnival was still weeks away. But for those involved in the samba schools, the grand fest was a rapidly approaching deadline for work that had begun many months back. In Rio, all eyes turn to the favelas during Carnival. Sometimes translated as ‘slums’, these informal shantytowns contain as many as one in six residents and cover huge swaths of the forested hillsides around town. Several dozen of the favelas are home to escolas de samba (samba schools), around which the entire celebration revolves. In favelas like Mangueira and Salgueiro (two of the top samba schools), drum corps have been practicing for months, choreographers busily working on routines for dancers numbering in the thousands, while seamstresses piece together the elaborate costumes that will, with luck, bring their school top honors.

On a clear day later in the week, I joined my friend Aurelio who lives up in Rocinha, Rio’s largest favela. Like many of the favelas in the cidade maravilhosa (marvelous city), Rocinha enjoys stunning views from its hillside perch, behind which the surrounding tropical forest threatens to envelop the building. From the Terraco da Gavea, an open-sided performance space that Aurelio inaugurated late last year, we could see the solid rock monolith of Pedra da Gavea and hang gliders skimming through the air on a lazy descent from another rockface (Pedra Bonita) to the beach 500 meters below.

Five young drummers from the drum section, all dressed in white, were laying down a rapid-fire set of beats, the rhythms resounding off the concrete walls. As they played, a pair of dancers emerged and worked through some samba steps and spins.

Here a few visitors had gathered to watch a show by some of Rocinha’s escola de samba members. Five young drummers from the bateria (drum section), all dressed in white, were laying down a rapid-fire set of beats, the rhythms resounding off the concrete walls. As they played, a pair of dancers emerged (he in white suit, she in a twirling sequined costume) and worked through some samba steps and spins. Later, a man with a microphone joined in, singing a few traditional samba enredos (theme songs) over the beats. Also on hand was a film crew from TV Roc (a Rocinha-based TV station) to shoot footage for a weekly show covering goings-on inside the favela.

Afterward I chatted with some of the school members. Despite their relative youth, all of them had played in past Carnivals and were excited about the upcoming ensaio tecnico, when they would do a practice run inside the Sambadrome (fans and anyone else could come for free to watch these rehearsals). This year, Rocinha’s theme was Ykamiabas, a mythical tribe of female warriors from the Amazon. Courage, a love of nature and magic amulets were all part of the story, which would be related in the song that everyone marching for the school would have to learn.

Preparations for Carnival begin early in the year, when the carnavalesco, or creative director of the school, sets about choosing the theme, selecting the costumes and overseeing general design plans. In October, school supporters help choose the song. I recall a night some years back standing in the steamy halls of Imperatriz, one of the top-tier escolas de samba, as four different puxadores (the lead singers of a school), auditioned songs for the audience, who subsequently voted for their favorite by roaring in approval. It was also the night when they were introduced to the regally dressed couple who would present the school to the judges: the mestre-sala and his spinning queen, the porta-bandeira (flag bearer). As one of the school’s main focal points, the pair must give a flawless performance as they twirl through the Sambadrome. Then there are supporting roles like the couple’s core passistas (the best dancers of the school) and the rainha da bateria (the queen of the drum section, often a well-known singer or soap opera star), the baianas (women with oversized hoop skirts who spin like whirling dervishes through the parade) and the carros alegoricos, or giant mechanized floats, atop which the school’s notoriously underdressed dancers show off their samba skills.

In the 1920s, the new sound of samba emerged. It was a music full of African flavors, brought to the city by former slaves and their poor descendents. It was a sound that would forever be associated with Carnival.

Although the origins of Carnival are shrouded in mystery, some believe it all began as a pagan celebration to mark spring’s arrival during the Middle Ages. The Portuguese brought the celebration to Brazil in the 1500s but it took on a local flavor by the introduction of Indian costumes and African rhythms. (The word itself probably derives from the Latin carne vale, “goodbye meat”, whereby the Catholic population would give up meat and other fleshly temptations during the 40 days of Lent.)

The first festivals in Rio were called entrudos, with locals marching through the streets in colorful costumes and throwing mud, flour and suspicious-smelling liquids on one another. In the 19th century, Carnival meant attending a lavish masked ball or participating in the orderly but rather vapid European-style parade. Rio’s poor citizens, bored by the finery but eager to celebrate, began holding their own parades, dancing through the streets to African-based rhythms. Then in the 1920s, the new sound of samba emerged in Rio. It was a music full of African flavors, brought to the city by former slaves and their poor descendents. It was a sound that would forever be associated with Carnival–as even the upper class adopted the celebrations happening on the streets.

Since those days, Carnival has grown in leaps and bounds, and this year Rio is spending in excess of R$100 million (US$54 million) to throw the party. For some Cariocas, Carnival is all just a bit too much, and they prefer to escape to a quieter locale (though everywhere in Brazil celebrates Carnival). Others look forward to the merry-making, beginning with the 420 street parades (called blocos) happening around town over the next few weeks.

When I left Rocinha that afternoon, Aurelio invited me to join the school in the technical rehearsal through the Sambadrome. There was also much more to come with open-air concerts, costumed balls and spontaneous street parties popping up around town–all made livelier by the entrance of merry makers flying in from all across the globe.

I’m excited to see what happens next week as the unfolding celebration takes to the streets.

Read Part 2 of this series, “Rio’s Big Fest: Carnival Hits the Streets.”