Can’t miss if you seek a kiss; Rio Carnival street parties dominated by smooching competition

Can’t miss if you seek a kiss at Rio Carnival

RIO DE JANEIRO — A kiss is just a kiss, but at Rio’s Carnival, collecting as many pecking partners as possible at one of the 650 massive street parties that hit high gear on Saturday is truly a competitive sport.

Wearing a pink bikini top, flower-print miniskirt and a face dabbed with silver glitter, Taline Pereira was not shy about getting to the heart of what drives the parties — known as “blocos” — that in some cases draw upward of 1 million people.

“I traveled thousands of kilometers to come to my first Rio Carnival,” said the 18-year-old student from Brazil’s northeast. “Of course I’m going to kiss as many boys as possible.”

Yet Brazilians don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about the widespread kissing known as “ficar,” which literally means “to stay.” It is an innocent game, they say, in which touching a woman anywhere outside the small of her back draws a red card — if not a slap.

Like the most intricate of courtship rituals, it involves rules and subtle, nonverbal cues that an ambitious man or woman must understand to have a successful outing — defined by Pereira as “maybe kissing 12 boys — or just one if he is a really good kisser.”

There are no winners, official or otherwise, though many play for bragging rights.

Informal polling found members of both sexes claiming to have kissed more than 10 partners at least once during Carnival.

Rafael Salathiel, 18, standing with a group of pals at a Friday bloco aptly named “Come to me, I’m easy,” said he has long history of “kissing as many girls as I want during Carnival.”

For most of the 700,000 tourists who have invaded Rio, the blocos are the focus of Carnival leading up to the flamboyant samba parades Sunday and Monday.

Each has its own character. Some are for journalists, others attract a gay crowd, many see a strong teenage contingent and still others are for young children.

But all — minus, perhaps, the bloco for youngsters and one just for dogs and cats — include an abundance of beer, a dire lack of clothing and rampant canoodling.

While Brazil’s government proudly announced it would hand out 55 million condoms for Carnival, there were no warnings issued for contagious diseases contracted by kissing.

“It starts like this: You look at a guy. Really look at him. He comes over, starts with his talk, and if there is chemistry then it’s going to roll,” Pereira said. “It doesn’t matter if he is cute or not if there is an energy.”

Lucas de Souza, 17, puffed up like a peacock while giving the male perspective on the game.

“I come at them with attitude and a great talk,” Souza said. “You really have to talk well with a Brazilian girl. Anyway, if I’m confident, I might touch her hair, her arm and then try for a kiss.”

As he spoke, his buddies let fly the low half-whistle, half-hiss that Brazilian men seem gifted with at birth to gain a woman’s attention in a crowd.

And if that kiss should miss?

“Look around, this place is full of girls,” he said. “If a girl rejects me, she is bound to have a friend who won’t.”

Luisa Castro, 17, started to give her interpretation of what the game of “ficar” meant when she paused and narrowed her eyes.

“Wait, wait … is this going to be one of those articles that makes Brazilian women look bad?” she asked. “Because you really shouldn’t exaggerate this thing.”

She defended smooching as many boys as possible during Carnival, saying it’s far milder than displays during Mardi Gras on New Orleans streets — where women routinely bare their breasts to win a strand of beads.

“There is some romance to it, it’s not vulgar like what we see American women doing,” the precocious high school student said. “They show everything. Which is gross.”

Still, the widespread public displays of affection surprised foreigners visiting for the first time.

“I like affection, but when I see this I just say, ‘get a room,’ ” said 33-year-old Destine Georgio, visiting from Adelaide, Australia.

Her friend Magdalena Kotsikas, a 25-year-old native of Buenos Aires — another renowned redoubt of public snogging — took offense.

“You know we make fun of foreigners who use that phrase,” she said.

All the smooching does not set right with Maria Helena Meurer, 65, who was born and raised in Ipanema and stood at the edge of the “Come to me, I’m easy” bloco, lips pursed — but not for kissing.

“This kissing game didn’t exist when I was young,” she said. “It’s the drugs, you know. It makes these kids lose all inhibitions.”

But didn’t Carnivals five decades ago have any sort of risque fun?

“During the Carnivals of my youth, we played around, but we did so with respect. You would be hard-pressed to get a kiss in the street,” she said.

“My husband courted me for seven years before we were married and I did so as a virgin,” she added. “Try finding one of those in this crowd.”