Return to the Avenida: Part 2

 

It’s early January in the City of Samba and I’ve arrived just in time to attend the very first street rehearsal of the new year for Vila Isabel, one of Rio’s top Samba schools.

I’ve spent the past few months increasing my strength and conditioning, lifting weights, upping my cardio fitness and learning the school’s complex enredo (theme song for this year), but nothing can prepare you for the absolute marathon that is a street rehearsal until you experience one.

To be honest, training in the lead up to this Carnival has been difficult. Trying to train like a passista would in Rio – dancing in 6-inch heels, on concrete, in 40-degree heat or pouring rain for 1-2 hours without stopping – just isn’t possible in Australia, and it’s not much fun either.

After 35 hours of travel to the opposite side of the globe, I’m exhausted and dizzy from jet lag, so decide not to rehearse tonight but to turn up and simply watch the passista aisle in action. I’ve finally got my tongue around the tricky lyrics (a mixture of both Portuguese and African Yoruba language) but am not yet confident with singing the song whilst dancing to the super-fast Samba rhythm (150+ beats/minute – it almost feels like sprinting instead of dancing!) and trying to look sassy, beautiful and technically skilled all at the same time.

 

 

As I walk along Boulevard 28 de Setembro (the main street of the suburb of Vila Isabel), the tension is building as waves of spectators arrive in anticipation of the first rehearsal of the year.

The energy in the air is electric, everyone is wearing some kind of Vila memorabilia, or if not, they are quickly pounced upon by local street sellers hawking hats, shirts, singlets or shorts with the Vila colours (blue and white) and the logo of an imperial crown – the emblem of the Portuguese royal family, whose princess was named Isabel and who the suburb is named after.

There are school members flying enormous flags, residents of the street waving from their balconies and people of all ages, from children to the elderly, finding a comfortable (if not crowded) spot to watch the magic unfold.

 

 

This year, Vila is tipped to win the parade (they haven’t secured a win since 2013), so the street is even busier as not only the locals are here, but curious Samba lovers from other schools turn up to see what all the hype is about.

The school’s theme song is “Macumbembe, Samboremba”, which talks about the inseparable link between Africa, Brazil, Samba and Macumba (an Afro-Brazilian religion that is characterized by traditional African religious practices, European culture and Brazilian spiritualism). This theme is on pointe with the cultural landscape in Rio now, so many people (not just members of Vila) feel very connected to the song and its meaning.

 

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE YOUTUBE CLIP OF VILA'S ENREDO 2026

 

The bateria (drum squad) starts to warm up in front of the sound truck, and from a distance I see a group of stunning women (and a few handsome men!) coming towards me, oozing confidence, sensuality and Brazilian essence – the passista aisle has arrived!

These earthly gods and goddesses are the most revered creatures of the Samba world (besides the Queens/Muses) and draw instant attention as they strut like superstars with their fabulous hair, make up, nails, jewellery and high heels (or Panama hats, suits and polished shoes for the men) through the chaos of the street, turning heads, raising heart beats and inspiring the younger generations of onlookers, many of whom aspire to be like them one day.

 

 

As they are assembled into formation by our carnival director, I arrive to introduce myself. I already know the director, a few of the foreign dancers (who are lovely and very welcoming) but not many of the Brazilians dancers. As I try to engage with each one in Portuguese, I receive luke warm, plain cold or simply no response at all.

Hmmm…I knew that there would be some pushback to a new gringa entering the aisle, but didn’t think that some dancers would be outright rude, especially as I speak fluent Portuguese, am a professional Samba dancer who has performed many times as a Muse in Carnival and have been coming to Rio for over twenty years (all of which they knew as the director had mentioned my accolades in his introduction of me in the group chat before I arrived).

This is going to be interesting… I have 7 weeks of street rehearsals, community shows and tech rehearsals with these dancers in the lead up to Carnival, and a major part of dancing as a group is the chemistry you have between dancers. After a few more unsuccessful attempts to connect, I remove myself to the sidelines and focus on observing them from a distance for tonight.

 

 

As the school singers warm up,  hundreds of instruments start to play and the crowd surges towards the performers, I am swept up in the energy, passion and power of thousands of people (Vila has between 3 – 5 thousand members!) chanting “Eu sou Vila, nao tem jeito!” (I am Vila, there’s no other way!), with tears in their eyes, pounding their chests, dancing and hugging each other with pure passion and conviction.

Ah…now I feel it. This is not simply a street rehearsal – it’s a coming together of community, culture, ancestry and history through the powerful religion of Samba.

Considering my 23-year history with Rio and Samba, I think I have definitely shown my respect for this art form and country.

But will I ever be considered a part of this school, and welcomed into this community?