Carnival Chaos: Would a Solo Return to Rio Spoil My Best Holiday?

At 7 am on this Monday morning, ladies perched high on stilts are flapping their plumed wings in harmony with joyful trumpet tunes and pulsating drum rhythms. The crowds around us are dense, making it hard for me to spot an exit.

I don't believe I've ever witnessed such an exuberant gathering. An expectantly pregnant lady has adorned her uncovered abdomen with large yellow petals to resemble a sunflower. A gentleman has shaped his thick back hair into a cross design through shaving. As we round the final bend, the vista unfolds, showcasing the vast Atlantic Ocean and Christ the Redeemer statue in the far-off distance. This moment fills me with elation. In my daily experiences, I frequently question whether I'm overlooking greater opportunities elsewhere. However, at this instant, I am convinced that nothing could surpass what I'm currently experiencing.

Somewhat superstitious about the possibility of spoiling good memories, I’ve rarely returned to a place I’ve been on holiday. But two years ago, I had the best week of my life at Carnival in Rio de Janeiro .

I really want to attempt recreating it, yet I'm not optimistic. In my view, a vacation hinges on several fortuitous elements—a nice climate and compatible company—which come together perfectly. Since I’m traveling alone for the second time around, I realize I won’t have much say in whom I meet and share moments with along the way.

The largest celebration globally

"Carnival" — the festive time preceding Ash Wednesday, rooted in pre-Lenten excess, spans across Brazil. This jubilant period can last from days to weeks, even stretching out as long as a month due to the country's inclination towards merrymaking. For those visiting, it presents an unmissable chance to partake in what many consider one of the world's most extraordinary celebrations.

The skyline of Rio presents a contrast between favelas built into mountain slopes alongside lush rainforests, islands, and urban illumination. Picture the largest celebration globally – this year’s Rio Carnival drew over 8 million attendees – framed within that setting. During my initial trip, I was struck by the magnitude of exuberant street festivities known as "blocos" held beneath clear blue skies. In comparison, this year saw an increase of more than 30 such events, bringing their total number up to 482.

Two years ago I spent my nights watching the parades at the Sambadrome, the purpose-built, 700m long stadium at which around 70 of Brazil’s samba schools compete for the carnival championship title for days until sunrise. They prepare for up to a year (although as a tourist you can join a samba school last-minute to fulfil the role of a slightly more entry-level performer). Would going back offer the same sense of awe?

I've made up my mind to go for it despite the risks. The flights were pricey, and even with early booking, lodging within the city spikes to about five times the usual rate during carnival season. However, I understood that this journey had been on my must-do list for ages. Plus, hitting thirty has me realize that starting a family might complicate adventures like these later down the line.

A truck of nuns

Last time, I’d stayed in a hostel in favela Vidigal. I’d had to hail a motorbike taxi to descend the winding streets of the favela, and then another to get into the city centre. Memorably, there had been no running water by the end of my stay.

This time, I am staying at the Fairmont hotel overlooking Copacabana beach From my balcony, I observe children kicking a football around and sellers walking back and forth across the sandy beach, peddling the famous green-and-yellow Brazilian bikinis alongside crafts. The proximity to a station allows me easy access to the metro where riders consist of samba dancers adorned with sparkling corsets along with men transporting decorative items throughout the town, all while passersby join in song as though they've known each other forever.

I make a beeline for Santa Teresa, a part of the city I didn’t visit last time. The leafy, bohemian neighbourhood perches on a hillside where I join the crowds and dance to the sound of the blocos on cobbled streets lined with 19th-century mansions, gazing out onto the city below with the iconic Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance.

In this version of the Carmelitas bloc party, the theme revolves around an urban legend about a nun fleeing from the Santa Teresa convent, with the crowd attempting to hide her. A truck adorned with women wearing pink habits atop its roof navigates through the narrow, twisting streets, while men dressed in "seductive nun" costumes dance joyfully around it. Overhead, large jellyfish-like decorative lanterns drift gracefully in the air.

Familiarity also means I worry less about wearing the right kind of outfit, or my safety. Aside from pickpocketing (Rio’s infamous street crime ramps up during Carnival ), the main daytime parties come with a joyous sense of welcome.

'A kiss is how Brazilians greet each other.'

I also find myself with enough mental space to observe various details this time around. An elderly couple throws water from the upper floor window of their apartment to help cool down the people gathered beneath – the day’s temperature climbing up to 40 degrees Celsius.

I notice a baby in a carrier being bounced at parades, with memes enlarged and attached to signs carried by revelers – all without context, of course. a segment from the reality television program The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills of a woman yelling at a cat.

They say "a kiss is the Brazilian handshake," and I often witness this firsthand (I've been told that during Carnaval, eight seconds of eye contact means you must kiss the individual).

The friends I met during my previous visit introduced me to some local specialties like feijoada—a slow-cooked dish of beef and pork simmered with beans—and farofa—crispy roasted cassava. Typically priced under £5, these dishes were enjoyed at simple outdoor tables where I could observe large floats adorned with sparkling dragons and temple-like structures moving through the streets of Rio.

A Brazilian buddy along with his friends invited me to join them for the day. Despite their inability to converse in English, some of the ladies shared essential information like how to locate bathrooms at street parties through gestures.

I inquire if life in Rio—with its shores, jungles, and vibrant night scene—truly embodies the ideal lifestyle, and his acquaintances assure me, "Yes, more or less—it’s quite laid-back." I imagine swapping my existence in London for this paradise. However, after just one day attempting to match their rhythm of boozing and revelry under the scorching sun, I concede defeat. As they enjoy themselves, I find myself spending the day purchasing chilled waters to douse myself with, which only makes them watch sympathetically.

Football and fearlessness

As I step into the hotel elevator dressed for a street party in a hula skirt with tassels, a smartly attired middle-aged Brazilian lady compliments my outfit. "I feel somewhat self-conscious; I wouldn’t typically wear something like this around London," I confess to her. She responds, "Here, it’s perfectly fine during Carnival. When I venture out, I dress just as casually."

Whenever tensions arise – whether it’s jostling for position in a throng or believing oneself to be first in line to purchase a beer – they are swiftly alleviated by a soft tap on the hand or a friendly grin.

To refresh myself after events, I take a dip in the Atlantic that caresses the glamorous Ipanema Beach, just like Brazilian actress Fernanda Torres did in the Academy Award-winning film. I’m Still Here .

But not every joyous experience is new to me this time. As I take in the sights of 90,000 Brazilians , of different skin colours and backgrounds, swaying with their arms around one another and waving flags, I feel tears welling in my eyes.

Carnival exudes a universal feeling of fearlessness to be warm towards one another, and to demonstrate a love for life.

I leave time to enjoy the city once carnival has finished, too. I go to a football game at the legendary Maracana stadium – to see the side Fluminense defeat another Rio-based team Volta Redonda. I am ecstatic for the win of a team I hadn’t known two hours ago, electrified by the atmosphere of almost 80,000 supporters.

On the shopping street of Rua Uruguaiana, I barter for football shirts and paisley dresses and window-shop the glitzy Carnival gear.

Going back to a beloved vacation spot was a smart decision. My bond with Rio's culture has grown stronger, allowing me to grasp the essence of its community even more deeply. Just as happens when you invest more time in something, your affection for a place can blossom into a gentle romance.

How to get there

London’s Heathrow Airport serves Rio de Janeiro with direct flights operated by British Airways. Passengers can also connect through various carriers: TAP Air Portugal offers routes via Lisbon, Lufthanza provides connections via Frankfurt, KLM operates via Amsterdam, Iberia runs services via Madrid, and ITA Airways connects via Rome.

Where to stay

The author was a visitor. Fairmont Rio de Janeiro Copacabana Doubles begin at $408 (£304).

More information

visitbrasil.com/en