Carnival in Rio

Carnival in Rio De Janeiro is one of the rarer celebrations invented by mankind, perhaps the rarest of all. It begins where the other festivals and pageants leave off and it goes so far beyond them that comparisons are inadequate. Rio's Carnival is a celebration of love, music, sun, food, dance and sex--an exultation of life itself and an abandonment of inhibition. During the four days of Carnival (it's going to be held from Saturday to Ash Wednesday, February 14--17, in 1970), Rio's cariocas and thousands of visitors dedicate themselves to forgetting reality, ignoring yesterday and canceling tomorrow. A city of almost 4,000,000 winds itself up into a nonstop frenzy of parties and passion, and the result is an explosion of contagious and exuberant anarchy. To understand what Carnival is all about, a stranger must plunge into the middle of it all and let himself be swept along with the current. Carnival and the appreciation of it are little more than that; there is no room for spectators. Beg or borrow, pull a bank job, highjack a rubber boat--anything; just get the loot and make sure you're there for the next one before somebody passes a law against it.

There are direct air connections from New York and other major U.S. cities via Pan American and Varig, Brazil's national airline. In order to allow time for exploring the city, buying tickets for the most important events and enlisting some companions, you should try to arrive at least a week before opening day. If your hotel is unsatisfactory (the ones we recommend on the chart on page 166 won't be), the extra few days will also provide the opportunity to look for an alternative. While foreign travel agents usually book every room they can, a last-minute vacancy is not unknown. Many tour operators charge inflationary rates for Carnival tickets and hotel rooms, so avoid package tours and stick with your trusty Stateside travel agent to make hotel reservations in advance. You can buy tickets for the parades and Carnival balls as soon as you're settled.

Location is especially important when visiting Rio, for Carnival takes place during Brazil's summer, when life revolves around the surf scene. Copacabana beach is Rio's most famed, action-oriented ocean strand and, ideally, your hotel should be within easy walking distance--preferably situated just north of the center of Avenida Atlantico, which spans the full width of Copa beach. Additionally, you should be a short stroll away from shops, restaurants, bars and night clubs; rooms should face the ocean; and you shouldn't have to sign up for compulsory meals, a dodge practiced only by inferior establishments. There are three first-class hotels that encompass all of these attributes and add individual flourishes of their own: the Swiss-operated Ouro Verde, which quietly boasts one of the finest restaurants in the city; the Leme Palace, which has a posh little night club and a deck bar; and Rio's best-known hotel, the Copacabana Palace, which has an enormous pool. Unfortunately, the Copa Palace's management has allowed the hotel's reputation to go to its head, and in recent years the service has become somewhat glacially indifferent.

Other top-line hotels for service and location are the Excelsior, Trocadero and Lancaster; next are the Olinda, California and Miramar. If your friendly neighborhood travel agent books you into the Regente, tell him you'll take it only without meals; the kitchen is less than spectacular. Wherever you stay, specify air conditioning, for the humidity can be quite oppressive. If you're not concerned about being on the beach, stay at the Gloria. It's one of the largest luxury hotels on the continent; it has a big pool and, though the sea is a long plod through ornamental gardens, ocean-view suites are available.

The next order of business is transportation; it's important to have your own wheels, because Rio is a huge metropolis and taxis become scarce once Carnival begins. Rental autos are quickly snatched up, so if you haven't reserved one (to be collected upon debarkation at Rio's ramshackle Galeão Airport), your next-best bet is either a chauffeured car (arrangements can be made with most owner-cabbies) or a rented jeep, preferably one with a detachable roof for protection against the short rainstorms that sporadically sweep in from the sea at this time of year. It should be noted that Rio's 380,000 vehicles are driven with about the same degree of caution shown at a demolition derby. Although the city refuses to release figures on the number of yearly traffic deaths--for fear of alarming the population and damaging the tourist trade--Commander Celso Franco. Rio's traffic director, is quite candid about the situation. "I have been in many, many cities," he says, "and I believe we have the world's worst drivers."

Once you've completed your hotel and automobile arrangements, you can begin planning which events you wish to attend when Carnival gets under way. There are three principal aspects to Rio's Carnival that might be called organized. These are the costume balls, the street carnival (the parade of samba schools along Avenida Presidente Vargas) and the blocos, which are street parades held by the inhabitants of individual city blocks. All of these events are held during the four days of Carnival proper, but the action starts a long time before this. Night clubs and discothèques throw parties for all comers; there are spontaneous binges in bars and restaurants, as well as parades that may consist of anything from a couple of dozen costumed revelers dancing through the streets to a string of elaborate floats accompanied by 100 or so musicians. For weeks before the Saturday of Carnival, the hills around the city echo to the rumble of samba drums and there is a tangible fever of anticipation in the air.

But though the round of private parties and impromptu revelries has long since started, there are still occasional havens of peace--and startling beauty--to be found not far from the clamor of the sidewalk crowds and the glare of the enormous street decorations. Beyond these tempting distractions, the highway leads south to Ipanema's quiet hills and golden beaches; and in the city itself, a winding road skirts the sheer rock face of Monti Corcovado (Hunchback Mountain), on whose Andean summit some 2300 feet above the sea stands the massive statue of Christ that is Rio de Janeiro's best-known landmark. Lying far below this peak, the city spreads out like some exotic Oriental carpet, laced at dusk with strands of light and luminous colors, with the bulk of Sugarloaf and the offshore mountain islands looming faintly through the haze. When the wispy evening clouds float up the sides of Corcovado, shrouding the floodlit statue in a wraith of mist, and then drift away into the gathering darkness, the clatter and bustle that stirs in the distant streets is swallowed up in a spine-tingling silence. As in the country of which it is the unofficial capital, there are no halfway experiences in Rio; like Carnival itself, even the landscape goes to extremes.

Brasília, the actual capital, was hacked out of the dusty red hinterlands nine years ago and stands today as an immense and somewhat forlorn monument to the deposed president who created it. If Brasília is the official seat of government and, hence, the correct location for foreign embassies, Rio is still the de facto focal point of national life. The ambassadors as well as various departments of Brazilian government have all but ignored the ambitious relocation plan drawn up more than a decade ago. Political questions aside, it's difficult to blame them, for subequatorial Rio occupies a position of unsurpassable magnificence, three fourths of the way down Brazil's Atlantic coast line, set among towering green-clad mountains and rimmed by great curving beaches, Rio's special pride.

Most visitors see only one beach, Copacabana; but in descending order, starting north of the city, there are the beaches of Flamengo, Botafogo, Urca, Fora and Vermelha. Copacabana is next, then Ipanema, flanked on either side by Arpoador and Leblon--all four of which may well be the most popular beaches in South America. If it gets too hot or too crowded on one beach or the surf is too rough for swimming, chances are that one of the others will provide ideal conditions.

For cariocas, the beach is used for both therapy and worship. During the day, they lie in the sun, coated with the local prescription for suntan lotion--a mixture of Vaseline oil, iodine and Coca-Cola; and at night, the superstitious light candles for the Queen of the Sea. On New Year's Eve, Copa beach glows with thousands of candles placed on the sand in homage to the Sea Queen, and women in long white robes wade into the water to strew petals in the thundering surf.

Carnival comes when Rio swelters in broiling summer heat; there is barely enough room to sit on the sand, and offices, factories and schools surrender their occupants to the sun. Brazilian cynics point to the mountaintop perch of Christ, whose arms are outstretched in perpetual supplication; they say that on the day every Brazilian reports for work. Jesus will let go with a round of applause.

Copa beach, being situated at the center of the main hotel district, is always the most crowded. It accommodates the bulk of visitors and locals, hundreds of rambling food and drink vendors, teams of soccer and volleyball players and small boys who stage aerial kite fights, applying a mixture of ground glass and glue to the string and sawing away at their opponent's line until it breaks.

Ipanema beach boasts a casual, bohemian style; it's popular with American (continued on page 321)Carnival In Rio(continued from page 168) residents and nomadic hippies and affords, therefore, a reasonable chance of meeting someone who speaks English, if that's what you're looking for. The most popular hangout with Rio beachniks is an open-air bar and restaurant called Castilheno. It faces the beach and is easily identified by the sports cars and gaily painted jeeps parked under the palms in front.

Copacabana and Ipanema are the city's best vantage points for bikinied-bird watching. Unlike American beaches, social snobbery doesn't exist on Rio's strands; rich and poor bask side by side. Socialites and lunching secretaries alike are drawn to the beach for sun--and often enough for a chance to strike up an acquaintance with like-minded members of the opposite sex. Brazil is probably the world's most fully integrated nation and on Rio's beaches one sees a fascinating panorama of pigmentation: The complexions of girls you'll find there range from alabaster white to burnt copper to jet-black. There's a reason why the beauty of Brazil's women is one of South America's most enduring legends: It's true. Add to this the fact that more than half of Brazil's 85,000,000 people are under 20 and you won't be surprised by the vast number and variety of great-looking females who crowd the streets and beaches.

Should you have the good fortune to befriend a carioca on the beach, and should she prove amenable to the furthering of close international relations, you'll soon discover that the management of Rio's more respectable hotels suffers from a form of incongruous puritanism. Visitors find there is no way of persuading hotel clerks to allow members of the opposite sex into a guest's suite. The answer is either to rent a small apartment (one can often be found through local inquiry or in the columns of the English-language Brazil Herald) or, if this is impractical, do what the natives do when they're in the same fix--drive south to the "love hotels" of Barra de Tijuca, where, for a very modest sum, one can rent a very modest room, no questions asked. As well as providing a nocturnal refuge for amateurs and their consorts, Barra de Tijuca is also a popular last resort for Rio's prostitutes and their customers.

Even though finding compatible companions shouldn't be much of a problem at Carnival time, the visitor should be aware that Rio's professionals are everready to give their all to please the traveler. Brazil's present regime is a military junta that's widely supposed to be strait-laced and moralistic in tone, which by former standards in Brazil may be true. By any other reckoning, however, it isn't, and the authorities have made little effort, if any, to curtail prostitution, which flourishes in abundance on the streets and in certain clubs. Many of the girls are unusually youthful, extraordinarily attractive and surprisingly devoid of avarice. A stranger would get the impression, in fact, that money was only a secondary motive, because the girls either don't like or don't want to mention the subject, and they often won't. There's no hassle involved in meeting Rio's ladies of the night; if you're alone and sauntering along Avenida Atlântica, they'll meet you. They are also in attendance at a number of night spots, such as the Baccarat (where girls who dance in the show join the audience when the curtain falls), the Barmen's Club and Bolero. Prostitution is an amiable business in Rio's clubs: there're no heavy-handed hustling, no obligatory champagne and no pricey cover charges. Most customers, in fact, have difficulty distinguishing amateurs from professionals.

Since you're arriving in Rio when the city is at its most outgoing, however, you should be able to win the far more rewarding favors of a nonprofessional. You'll certainly have to wine and dine her, but even this will work out to your benefit, for she'll be only too happy to introduce you to Brazil's unique cuisine. Rio sits down to dinner at odd hours when Carnival is in progress; it's not unusual to start supper at one or two A.M. or even later. In general, the city's food is of the highest standard, particularly fish and meat, although some traditional dishes don't appeal to many foreigners. Feijoada completa, for example, is black beans, dried beef and a selection of other meats; drenched in a sauce of starchy manioc flour, it isn't too appetizing to the unaccustomed visitor. Some of the tastier local seafood dishes include camaroes bahiana, shrimps in a sauce of onion and tomato; peixe com molho de camaroes, a white and succulent fish in shrimp dressing; empadinhas de camarões, little pies of shrimp and hard-boiled egg; and peixe á Brasiliera, a sort of bouillabaisse without the soup.

It's difficult to find a really bad place to eat in Rio, and most visitors could come to no grief by wandering into the first restaurant they saw. But there are some notable recommendations encapsulated in the accompanying chart. Among them, one of the best is renowned for its seafood dishes and smooth service. Fiorentina and Sorrento, close to the Leme Palace, are Italian. Both have open terraces fronting the beach and the ambiance is informal and efficient. The Chalé serves first-class Continental and Brazilian specialties.

At Churrascaria Jardim, you dine alfresco, overlooking a floral terrace. The churrasco mixlo (barbecued pork, beef and veal) is great, but don't order the T-bone, which isn't. If you're downtown in the lunch hour, go to the Maison de France; and even if you're not down-town, make a point of it, because this is strictly cordon bleu cooking and the location is atop the French embassy, which should be guarantee enough. Local fish courses should be sampled at Baianinha (excellent for vatapá--ground shrimp with fish cooked in olive oil and coconut milk). Two leading Portuguese restaurants are Adego de Evora and O Calo; both have Portuguese music and both are in Copacabana.

During Carnival, it's doubtful that you'll consider stopping into a night club once dinner is done; but if you arrive in town before the beginning of festivities, you ought to sample some of the city's year-round evening entertainments. Among the attractions: The Copacabana Palace's Golden Room for flashy floorshows; Le Bateau and Zum Zum for disco dancing and Sucata for top-name Brazilian jazz. If you're looking for a quiet table for two in romantic surroundings, make a reservation at the pocket-sized Balaio night club in the Leme Palace.

While Carnival is on, however, most visitors shun the familiar spectacle of maîtres de and chorus lines and head for such special attractions as the rehearsals of the samba schools (or clubs), surely one of the most exhilarating highlights of the entire Carnival. In the last week before Carnival, the atmosphere in any of Rio's many samba schools is one of barely controlled hysteria. At Mangueira, for example, which is located on the edge of one of the mountainside slums mythologized in the movie Black Orpheus, the night air is filled with the screech of whistles, the relentless pounding of drums and the contortions of thousands of dancers, who, for one hour, will march in the main parade that marks the sensational climax to nearly a year of preparation.

Mangueira at this time is no place for romance and quiet moments, and it's wise for foreigners to go there with a Portuguese-speaking companion who can explain the proceedings and extricate the visitor from awkward incidents. Not that the atmosphere is hostile; on the contrary, visitors are plied with drinks, questions and invitations, and an interpreter is helpful for negotiating the hospitality. One of the poorer samba schools, Mangueira is rough and tough, but the dancing and the music have a passion that is matched by few of the other schools. Nobody who wants to savor all of Carnival's many flavors should miss one of these rehearsals. If Mangueira sounds a bit too raunchy, go to Portela, which is closer to Copacabana and is considerably more refined.

By far the most famous feature of Carnival is the balls. Of the dozens that take place, most are given by semiprivate organizations, such as athletic and social clubs. The balls that count are the Yacht Club (the Friday night before Carnival), the Copacabana, and Artists' and Writers' (held at the Gloria Hotel), both on Saturday night; the Monti Lebano, Tuesday night's unofficial Carnival finale; and, poshest of all, the Municipal Ball on Monday night. Tickets for this grand event cost $50 and up at the 1969 Carnival; one box seating eight went for $3750.

At a typical Carnival ball, there are usually three or four rooms for dancing; they get hot and very crowded. The samba bands play from early evening until sunrise or later without a break, generating a level of noise that only the strongest soul can tolerate (cariocas' toleration is helped by Dexamyl: Rio's drugstores sell out their entire supply each year at Carnival time). Thousands of exuberant, half-naked people mill about in glittering, wilted costumes, pressing from one ballroom to the next and trying to cool off with cardboard fans that are given away at the door. To describe a Carnival ball in detail would be to convey an image of nightmarish discomfort, but, oddly enough, nobody seems to mind--or even notice--the heat or the confusion. And when you get lost in the crowd, as everyone does, you realize that it's unimportant and that the only thing that matters is having a good time, which comes naturally.

Dressing up (or, in most cases, undressing) is a vital part of the proceedings, and it's sensible to be prepared with some sort of costume. In fact, costume is mandatory for the best Carnival balls. The lightest and most practical outfit for men is a sarong over swim shorts and sandals; it might look funny at a convention in Detroit, but at a Rio ball, nobody will ask to borrow your lipstick. If you can't bring yourself to don a Polynesian kilt, you can wear a brightly colored shirt over lightweight slacks.

Only a dedicated hedonist would try to attend all the main balls. It would make sense upon arrival in town, therefore, to check the grapevine to find out which of the year's current selection is expected to be the best; most likely, it will be the Municipal, which generally has the grooviest women and the most imaginative costumes. If you can get into the Yacht Club's ball, do it; the surplus of women is remarkable. You can quite safely skip the others, including the Copa ball, which has in recent years gone downhill.

The single event of Carnival that should not under any circumstances be missed is the parade of the samba schools on Sunday night. It is unquestionably one of the most dramatic sights and sounds in the world. The parade route--lined with judges, spectators, press, police, TV and movie crews--resembles the start of the Indianapolis "500." Avenida Presidente Vargas, which is where the parade originates, is lit with the brilliance of a night football game. Gigantic illuminated decorations are suspended over the street and floodlights for TV and press crews glare down from a bridge of scaffolding that straddles the route.

People take their seats in the stands about nine and the first samba school, though expected to march at ten, may not arrive until an hour or so later. Those who can't afford to buy seats have slept in the doorways of big stores and office buildings that line the avenue; they've come from every part of the country, bringing families, bedrolls and food. Behind the Church of the Candelaria, at the head of the parade route, thousands of drummers, musicians and dancers are forming ranks; spectators seated in the distance hear the faint rumble of drums, sounding like some powerfully charged engine that's about to explode.

The lead dancers, bearing the school's banner, swoop to the head of the formations; the others fall into line behind them and, amid a surging, swelling battery of percussion, the first procession begins, filling the breadth of the wide avenue with its extravagant dance routines, pirouetting and strutting under the lights. The dandified costumes--usually a blend of 18th Century wigs for the men and great tiers of crinoline for the women--sweep past in wave after wave of color, great streams of scarlet, gold, maroon, silver, vivid blues and whites. (Costumes often cost well over $1000 apiece and, since 60 percent of the city's workers earn less than $35 a month, the task of saving the money for these lavish outfits is an all-year project that requires moonlighting, throwing private parties at which admission is charged and having employers withhold ten percent of salaries, to be paid the week before Carnival.)

It may take an hour or more for one school of brightly costumed dancers to pass the judges' stand, which is the best place to sit near, because it's there that the paraders put on their finest efforts; individual dancers upstage one another with routines that combine juggling with gymnastics and a free-form choreography that defies description. Every school also has a song specially composed for each Carnival; it's chanted over and over by the paraders as they follow the route. Some schools have a king, a bewigged and bearded figure in resplendent robes with a train carried by ten men or more: smaller trains worn by lesser dignitaries gather the paper streamers that have been hurled from the stands; and as they pass the spectators, their feet scuff out a rhythmic soft-shoe shuffle that's picked up by the onlookers, causing the entire crowd to sway.

Sometimes a small group of drummers will break out of the procession to back a dancer who, spotting a lover in the crowd or perhaps just because she feels like it, gives a solo performance of pelvic gyrations that makes the hula look staid. The crowd roars its appreciation; a column of motorcycle cops breaks through the edge of the parade, sirens screaming, and the girl and the musicians strut back into position, picking up the beat and whirling off into the night.

Hours later, the best part of the parade is finished. The rest of it will be taken up with processions of floats and bands, and most spectators will drift away as the sun starts to rise, eclipsing the big lights. Taxis will be next to impossible to find, but visitors with jeeps or cars will quickly be cutting out for the beaches at Copa and Ipanema, where the third organized feature of Carnival--the blocos--is taking shape. Bloco is Portuguese for block, and the general idea is that any city-block dwellers who feel like it can organize their own parade, sometimes with floats and pretty girls in costume, but always with dancing and music. Even if you haven't slept more than a few hours after the Sunday-night samba-school parade, head for General Osorio Square in Ipanema at about four or five the next afternoon. A band and some musicians will start beating out a samba, the people arrive in bikinis and in costume, nearby bars and restaurants empty their customers into the streets and anyone who feels like it joins in and follows the music. The bloco may last for hours, winding up in someone's swimming pool or exhausting itself on a beach amid empty bottles, paper streamers and discarded costumes. Foreigners, who would normally regard dancing in the streets as something socially akin to waving at a TV camera from a studio audience, find themselves swept along irresistibly in the peculiar madness that seems to surround the events of Carnival, particularly during the blocos, which may lead anywhere and usually do.

There is no established pattern to these four days. Somebody will suggest a party or a day's outing by yacht to one of the tropical islands off the coast, while another group might drive out of the city to a remote beach. But few will wander very far or stay away too long from the pleasures and distractions of the Carnival in the streets. It is a time for invitation and acceptance. Couples form from groups of strangers and go off alone to the beaches, to the hills or to a cool, shuttered apartment where the only sound is a creaky fan on the ceiling. Time melts, the days pass and homebound flights are missed by visitors who are unwilling to pack and leave.

People who have never seen Rio's Carnival tend to think of it as a contrived, commercial splurge designed to foster the travelog concept of a hokey Latin fiesta--Carmen Miranda jiving with a pair of maracas on top of a floral float. It is nothing like that. In the freewheeling spontaneity that marks these four days of exuberance, in the richness of the dancing and the music and the excitement in the streets, the spirit is one of elation and the mood of the celebrants is one of unequivocal simplicity: Enjoy. See Naples and die, they say; no doubt the well-worn phrase has validity. But first go to Rio for Carnival and find out what you've been missing.

Playboy's Capsule Guide to Rio

Where to Stay

California: small, informal, comfortable and congenial.

Copacabana Palace: Rio's most famed and resplendent roost, on Copa Beach; pool, celebrities and all the amenities.

Excelsior: handsomely restyled, masterfully managed.

Gloria: huge and distinguished but away from the beach.

Lancaster: solo fun possible in spite of family trade.

Leme Palace: excellently administered, luxurious newcomer; 300 rooms, boisterous clientele; hub of night life.

Miramar: medium-priced beach-front hostelry; fine roof bar.

Olinda: quiet ocean-front comfort at reasonable rates.

Ouro Verde: small, elegant and strategically situated.

Regente: dandy digs, but stay out of the dining room.

Trocadero: recently refurbished, central and simpatico.

Where to Dine

Adega De Evora: Copacabana's informal (and leading) site for authentic Portuguese food, decor and fado singers.

Alba Mar: succulent seafood served in an old market building.

Bahianinha: informal site for local gifts from the sea.

Chale: a gustatorial imperative; baroque decor, classic Brazilian and Continental cuisine, great desserts.

Esquilos: international fare, rustically romantic setting--a colonial farmhouse 30 minutes outside the city.

Fiorentina, Sorrento: Italian edibles, action crowds.

Churrascaria Jardim: memorable mixed grills; alfresco.

Maison De France: haute cuisine atop the French embassy.

Museum of Modern Art: for lunch and view of Sugarloaf.

Nino's: politicians and the pretty people dig the pasta.

Where to Play

Canecao: for a cheery, beery eve, visit this cavernous Brazilian Brauhaus; nonstop rock and folk music.

Golden Room: Rio's biggest club, in the Copacabana Palace, shouldn't be missed; dinner, dancing, lavish floorshow.

Fred's: Carlos Machado's justly famed and prototypal Brazilian revue attracts the tourists; you won't mind.

Grinzing: intimate Austro-Hungarian decor; small combo.

On the Rocks: the city's most romantic and expensive night spot for dinner and dancing.

Sucata: sophisticated center for top-name Brazilian jazz.

Zum-Zum, New Jirau, Balaio, Bilboquet, Sachinha's, Le Bateau: Rio's top-six discos; seldom a disappointment.

Don't Leave Until You

attend one of the many splendiferous Carnival balls. Getting tickets won't be easy, but bellhops work wonders. Poshest of all: the Municipal.

view a soccer game at Maracana Stadium, where 150,000 fans shout their heads off; you will, too.

witness the wildly spectacular parade of the samba clubs on Sunday night of Carnival.

do at least minimal sight-seeing: Sugarloaf and Christ of the Andes.

drive with her on the coastal mountain road to Barra de Tijuca, a secluded and beautiful beach.

drop by the Gavea Golf Club; tourists are welcome, but can't play the awesomely scenic course unless invited by a member.

charter a boat and go sailfishing in the Atlantic; the season runs from November through March.

bask at Copacabana and Ipanema beaches--and glimpse Rio's truly traffic-stopping bikinied birds.

What to buy

A wide range of precious gems, Brazil's best shopping bargain, at H. Stern and Maximino's. Custom-styled semiprecious jewelry at Burle Marx.

Bespoke suede, leather, fur and calfskin coats, ready in a week, at Encanto das Peles.

Maxi-Mod stylings at Dijon.

Continental clothing--especially French and Italian imports--at Homen's.

Traditional Brazilian handcrafts--check the silver- and woodwork--at Casa Hugo.

Alligator, jaguar and snake skins--the finest--at Zitrin.

Paintings by talented Brazilian artists--at Bonino, Petite Galerie, Vernon, and Barcinski.

During carnival, the city's populace refuses to sleep; above, a comely carioca refreshes herself in a waterfall pool in Rio's parque lage. After each night's nonstop partying, couples flock to secluded strands such as Niemeyer beach (right), there to greet the dawn and rest up for more reveling.