Sou São Clemente

Friday night. Sao Clemente. I'd brought along Rob, Charlotte & and a new friend Phil, and was happy to be introducing them to "my" escola.

We walked in on a rowdy party. The Sao Clemente crowd really dances!! For some reason, in other escolas the passistas tend to put on a little show and then disappear, but in Sao Clemente, they stay the whole time and they're really having fun, playing "can-you-top-this" dance games with each other and inventing all kinds of moves on the spot. The whole dance floor is just full of passistas the entire time. They've got some incredible dancers there. There was a girl in a zebra top last week who really took my breath away.

The bateria was powerful. Strong and swinging. (Sao Clemente's still got the Grupo A problem of some raggedy tamborim players who don't quite know the breaks yet; but the core of the bateria, surdos & caixas, is Grupo Especial steady.)

My friend Charlotte (one of the Brits) started dancing by herself, off to the side, off the dance floor, by the bateria.

The passistas spotted her.

Now, you see, Charlotte can really dance.

ZOOM. A passista swooped over like a hawk to its prey. It was the girl I remembered from last week, the Zebra Girl. (Not in a zebra top tonight, but for me she'll always be Zebra Girl) She just about pounced on Charlotte, and swept her into a huge, bold, laughing, challenging, red-hot game of Can-You-Top-This? Samba-ing and shimmy-ing and matching each other move for move. Wide-eyed shouting smiles when the other girl does something really cool or beautiful. And Charlotte was right IN IT, right away. ON.

Zebra Girl grabbed Charlotte by the hand and physically dragged out into the dead center of the passista circle. (Charlotte said later that she almost panicked, but then her "Stern Voice" came on inside her & told her "Just do what you do! This is not the time for a wobbly moment!") DEAD CENTER of the passista circle at Sao Clemente, and, whether it was the Stern Voice or whatever, Charlotte flew into a samba solo like I've never seen, and the Can-You-Top-This game kept going and going, with passista after passista taking turns with her.

It was such a dance show I just stood on the side watching and grinning ear to ear. I sure can't dance like that myself but I love to see it, and I LOVE to see a gringa matching a Rio passista move for move! and then some! Show 'em what gringas can do, Charlotte, show them, show them all!! And she did. I almost photo'd it, almost video'd it, but then I decided it was one of those live-wire moments that I just wanted to experience in the moment, not behind a recorder.

It will be in my memory for ever, for sure, Charlotte and the Zebra Girl dancing in the passista circle at Sao Clemente.

Later - Playing. I'd been waiting till the mestre took a break, so I could ask him if we could play. I finally spotted my chance, and he was sweet as could be. We just had to wait till they were done playing their current samba, as I expected (since an unknown player won't usually be turned loose on the current samba - not until they know you, that is - but is often welcome to play in the later phase, when they start doing old sambas from past years. ) We waited till then, and the assistant director gave us the go-ahead and up into the bateria went all my friends. I stayed below and watched.

I know what it feels like. Into the bateria! It feels like jumping into the fire, into the volcano. There you've been watching the bateria from afar, practically drooling with lust and envy and admiration, all the seven deadly sins blazing in your head all at once, and suddenly you're clambering up the big steps and you're right IN them, up in their bleachers, IN THE BATERIA, caixa guys all around you, repiques, surdos - you're holding the rusty battered drum, the sweaty torn strap, the splintered old drumsticks - not the normal splintered drumsticks from home, but real RIO splintered drumsticks! - you're watching the mestre - a real Rio mestre! in a real Rio escola! - listening for the call - the repique player CALLS and you're OFF and you're PLAYING and you're PART OF IT, part of the bateria.

I'd stayed out because, well, I was worried there were too many of us! Sao Clemente didn't have all that many caixas out, and 5 gringos at once would have taken over half the caixa section and bumped some local Sao Clemente players off their drums. I'd forgotten to warn my friends about taking turns by 2's and rotating the drums around. So I stayed out for a while.

But it was hilarious watching from down below, because I could see all the caixa players clustered around my gringo friends, giving them huge pantomime gestures about how to stop and start a samba, never guessing these gringos were all expert samba players. (But it was sweet that their instinct was to try to help out.) I could see them trying to mime the absolute-dirt-basic "turn and stop" break that every samba player knows (what Lions call "the cut"). The pantomine went: 'So there'll be a TURN, and then you STOP, ok? TURN, and STOP. It'll be TURN, and STOP. And then you've stopped and you are NOT PLAYING. OK? You'll go TURN, and STOP!" and Rob and Charlotte and Phil all nodding "Yes yes yes yes yes yes"

Long story short, the bateria hit the cut and Phil and Charlotte and Rob all did a beautiful TURN, and STOP, and you could see progressive waves of relief and, then, astonishment, and then, fascination, sweeping over the other caixa players' faces: "Oh my god... the gringos can play!" (Especially, of course, fascinated with Charlotte, She Who Can Dance Like a Passista but Plays Caixa Em Cima Like a Ritmista. They kept sneaking little amazed side glances at her like she was Sheena, Queen-of-the-Samba) Rob and Phil switched to repique later, hit some beautiful zinging rolls together that matched the tamborim subidas, and I saw some wide-eyed glances going back and forth then too, between the repique leaders. Because oh my god, the gringos can play.

Eventually I spotted an extra caixa, so I climbed on up too. So I had my own heavenly moment of climbing up into the bateria, and finding that rusty caixa (the worst caixa), and that splintered stick (my worst stick ever! it was 2 inches long!!!), and torn strap, and joining in. Oh, it was such heaven to play and play and play again, in that thunderous roaring bateria sound. Eyes on the diretor. Glancing over to the dance floor now and then, spotted the whole dancing crowd, the crazy Sao Clemente passistas, the Zebra Girl, and a wild group of Beija-Flor girls that had turned up out of nowhere, all dancing like it was the last night of their lives; and WE were MAKING THEM DANCE; they were dancing because of OUR PLAYING. It's an incredible feeling.

I played and played and played, took a break, switched to repique, played and played and played some more. Repique felt fantastic - it's the first time I tried it in Sao Clemente, and it felt so comfortable - got some thumbs-up for that, even though all I was doing was the basic ride.

Rob and I stayed playing till the very end. Such a high. And such a welcoming crowd. Like Olivia told me once "They're good people in Sao Clemente. Not stuck up." And they can PLAY.

The mestre invited us to the technical rehearsal on Tuesday. "Vem terca, vem terca!" Oh, if only I could stay in Rio!!! But at least I've been able to pass the flag on to my friends.