Embracing the Carioca Lifestyle by Benjamin Ergas

26 December 2003. “E aí, mermao, beleza?” (So what’s up buddy? Everything cool?).



Our car leaves the Baía de Guanabara (an island nearby reminds me of the unsuccessful attempt by French Admiral Villegaignon to establish a Protestant colony there in 1555), passes by the old colonial districts, Flamengo and Botafago, below the towering Cristo Redentor (art deco, 1931) on Corcovado Mountain. We continue on, pass by the distinctive Pao de Açúcar Mountain on our left, and finally arrive at in Ipanema – the venue of choice for Cariocas.

‘Carioca’ is the nickname given by the Indians to the first white inhabitants in Rio (kara'i oca, meant "house of whites"). But it has come to epitomize a type of personality that can only be found in the Cidade Maravilhosa. Typically, they are 15-39 years-old natives who have adjusted their pace to the slow rhythm of the ocean waves, and have adopted a body language, a dress code and a way of speaking that evinces an attitude of total complacency and confident serenity. Cariocas are gentle, care-free and enthusiastic.

Embracing the Carioca lifestyle is the best (and safest) way to enjoy Rio for three reasons: 1) you will never be far away from the beach, 2) it is the most effective way to step out of a frantic rhythm back home, and 3) you are no longer an obvious prey for the violent gang youths strolling around from time to time. Living with locals, my transition is smooth. I pick up my sandals, sunga (bathing suit), and sunglasses and headed off to Ipanema beach.

Ipanema, though not as exotic as the barren beaches of the Seychelles or the Caribbean, is arguably one of the most astonishing stretches of sand in the world. Crescent shaped, 2 km long, bounded on one end by the majestic Dois Irmaos and on the other by Arpoador, set at the feet of dramatic rock formations and bordered with coconut palm trees along its mosaic sidewalk, Ipanema is simply stunning from dawn to dusk.

Part of Ipanema’s aura has to do with its enchanting history. In the ‘60s, Ipanema served as a rallying point for artists and musicians who no doubt found the magical setting fertile for their creative inspiration. The most famous product from that generation is the bossa nova tune “Garota de Ipanema” by Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes: “Olha que coisa mais Linda, mais cheia de graça, é ela menina, Que vem que passa Num doce balanço, caminho do mar”... My Brazilian friend told me that the ‘Girl from Ipanema’ was the second most played song on the radio worldwide (on air every 15 seconds). It has been re-interpreted dozens of times over the last three decades, and has helped nurture a fascination for Rio in general, and Ipanema in particular. It is worth noting as an aside that this immortal Garota does exist: her name is Heloisa Pinheiro. She has just turned 50 and now runs a beauty parlour two streets behind the beach! In the ‘70s, the development of a new refined neighbourhood behind the beach moved Ipanema to the upper half of the social spectrum, and started to welcome rich European visitors (the first commercial Concorde flights were from Paris to Rio (not NYC!) in the 70s) in search of the Garota. Today, Ipanema has retained its glamour (particularly in front of Lifeguard Station #10), and it is where you will find the latest fashion trends in beachwear. I note that because most tourist hotels are on Copacabana beach, Ipanema beach has a more local flavour.

Cariocas know what to bring to the beach – very little. The beach is the expression of an attitude toward life. Women come in kangas (a type of sarong) and reveal their tangas (bikinis) quickly, while men wear T-shirts and Speedo-type bathing suits called sungas (unless you are a surfer, and in that case you wear well-fitted surfer shorts). The women use their kangas to lay down on the sand while men sit on their shorts. Only a tourist would use a towel, wear a loose swim short and carry a beach bag complete with watch, camera, cell phone and book - a dead give-away for the ratos de praia, the beach ‘rats’ that wait until you and your partner go romantically into the sea before taking your belongings. To mitigate this risk, better ask someone nearby to watch your valuables, and then reciprocate, though Cariocas probably won’t have much for you to keep an eye on.

The beach plays a critical role in the social cohesion of a city that is usually so restless. Squeezed between the sea and the mountains, Rio’s urban environment is one of the most dense in the world. So the beach becomes everyone’s garden – from those living in the million-dollar apartments right behind to those living in the favelas right above. It is the one social arena where rich and poor mingle and play sports. Everyone looks similar, everyone is welcome. The beach is a great equalizer, from that perspective. And for the poorer residents especially, staying at the beach is an expression of freedom, of liberty, of space that they lack in their shabby shanty-towns. Going to the beach possibly reduces their strain, diffuses their anger. It’s an essential outlet.

A lot is going on at the beach, and there is a whole system in place to make the most of it. I had forged a friendship (a year earlier) with a barraqueiro called Fabio, whose barraca provided not only chairs and umbrellas but also cervejas (beer) and, most importantly, caipirinhas (cachaça, a sugar cane liquor, with lemon, sugar and crushed ice). Fabio, like the other owners, kept a tab of the drinks that I would order through the day, so that I would not worry about money; a system based on the trust that I would pay on my way “out”. There are also dozens of different vendors criss-crossing the beach with sanduicha natura, camarao, sorvete, abacaxi and melancia, as well as local drinks like mate de limao (iced tea with lemon). At times, there is so much commotion here, it feels like a marketplace.

Ipanema is like a giant sports stadium for the more dynamic Cariocas. I have counted 9 different sports, but I’m sure to be missing a few: 1) Surf: because it is a praia de tombo, its waves can reach 10 feet, which is ideal for board and body surfers; on the shore’s firm sand, 2) frescobol (wooden racket and rubber ball) and 3) pelada (soccer ball kicked by a group of people); and on the softer sand, 4) vôlei, 5) fute-vôlei (vôlei using the feet and head), and 6) plain football; and finally, on the cycle track, 7) jogging, 8) biking and 9) skateboarding.

Beach attacks by gangs called funkeiros can create in seconds a fervent atmosphere! These rampages, or arrastaos, though not frequent, are very impressive. They usually happen on Sundays because 1) there are more buses between the favelas and the beaches and 2) there is more prey on the beach. Copacabana tends to get a disproportionate share of arrastaos because of its wider, more extensive beach making it more difficult for policing. I witnessed one back in March. This was probably one of my most exhilarating life experiences.

An arrastao consists of 50, 100, 200 teenagers aggregating discreetly on one side of the beach. Upon an agreed cry (un cri de guerre!) by a group leader, they all stand, lift up their sticks, stretch along the width of the beach and run across its length, picking up everything valuable on their way. All you can do is run. I, so clever, wanted to stay and take pictures (!) but my friend would not let me: “Never come close to those guys!”, I remember him screaming, grabbing my sandals and pushing me away. We had sufficient time to go, but could see the commotion fifty yards away. Like sharks approaching their preys, funkeiros force everyone to leave in a matter of seconds - I mean thousands of people deserting Copacabana beach! The effect is incredible! As for the police, they are usually insufficient (Rio is poor) to suppress this hostile movement. It was clear to me that the beach was therefore a venue of choice to resolve social inequalities and forcefully implement wealth redistribution! While those attacks were not the norm (perhaps half a dozen per year), many Cariocas went to other beaches on Sundays for that very reason.

There may not be as many exciting arrastaos on Ipanema, but its stunning sunsets make up for that. And if you live like a Carioca, you stay on the beach until dusk, and enjoy. You wrap up a last game of frescobol, catch a final wave, sip one more caipirinha... as the sun descents and eventually disappears behind the twin mountains of Dois Irmaos. At that very special moment, you sometimes hear a group of smiling, relaxed, sun-tanned Cariocas applaud - perhaps thanking the Brazilian sun for another unproductive day.

From my balcony above the beach, I start pondering again about this Carioca lifestyle: an art of living so focused on savoring the fine thrills that life offers. Is this the way I’d like paradise to be? Well, probably but not quite sure. I think I need to come back here soon to double-check! A gente se vê!