Chateau Sketch

It looked like a Chateau that had been bombed desperately clinging to the hillside. The baroque façade contrasted with the sheets of plywood and industrial concrete that held this place up on a slope too steep to inhabit. Inside it was extremely dark--lit only by blacklight. People who wore white glowed, but most were undifinable black figures. The faint outlines of their dread locks were slightly visible through the smoke that made my eyes itch. Where were we? Zaubers--the sketchiest (Reggae) club I have ever been to. Its mere existance defied all instinct.

When we first taxied to Pelorinho, though we did not know its exact location, we figured that it was notable enough that anyone could point us in the right direction. However every person we asked denied to have ever heard of such a place...We finally called a girl who had frequented the venue before. She quite calmly told us that this place contradicted all that you had ever been taught about Brazil. Between Praça da Se and the Fallen Cross, there was a dark cobble stone alley. At the bottom of the hill, we would find the club. There was just three of us girls, who decided to leave early enough to get in for free before 10. When we got to the alley way a man would not let us pass on foot--due to the construction it was too dangerous. He told us to get into his car and he would drive us there. So here we were, about to defy the most deeply engrained lesson a child is ever taught--getting in a car with a stranger. Unconvinced, we continued to question this man, who claimed his validity by pointing to the Zauber logo on his white T-Shirt. A hundred yards down the alley, however, we could see two figures walking, and we asked him why they were allowed down there. Drug dealers, he told us.

We called the rest of our crew, urging them to hurry and meet us here, because the thought of us girls getting into the car made me sufficiently uncomfortable. But the Zauber gaurds insisted that their car (no taxis) was the only way to get there, and that their lift was free of charge. There were two other young Brazilians (a girl and a boy) dressed to dance who headed to the car to get to the club. I trusted their judgement and with the encouragement of the Zauber workers, was ushered into the front seat of a old red car. But once they started driving, we bulleted passed the alley without turning. My eyes turned wide and I held my breath. From out of the window we saw two other kids from our program and they told us that they had to take the car ride last time too, so I exhaled. We wound down a narrow cobble stone street to the lower city past the famous Elevador.

We arrived infront of a half built building growing out of the cliffside. We followed the other guests up a ramp dodging puddles (it was drizzling) to the entrance. The entrance was not welcoming in the least. It was a huge black wall. Through a 6inch triangle in the wall you bought your tickets (we made it in free). Past this wall there was this beautiful open patio/walkway. Where you had a view of the city with its baroque architecture and the yellow of the streetlamps shown both in the sky and reflected in the puddles on the street. This was Zaubers.

We stepped inside and the sweet scent of weed enveloped me. I blinked my eyes, to adjust to the darkness, but to no avail, the room inside was dark. But finally I felt a little more relaxed...this seemed about as legit as a party in Oakland. Girls, as usual had to find the bathroom first. The bathroom had was half indoors and half outside. One wall was made of the rock face of the clifside. The roof was more like large leaves of vegetation growing above the building.

The rest of the evening passed plesantly. The reggae was fun, and as the group of us students grew, so did my enjoyment.

P.S. To all those concerned readers/parents, I took liberty to dramatize the retelling of the story, and while it is all true, I never actually was that scared, or felt that I was in anyway in danger. And everyone made it there and back safe and soundly.