Carnival in Brazil usually means sequins, samba, and massive parades. In the coastal town of Paraty, things look very different. People skip glitter and grab fistfuls of thick gray mud instead.
This event is called ‘Bloco da Lama,’ which translates to Mud Block. It takes place on Jabaquara Beach, where the mangroves supply the sticky sludge that fuels the fun. Instead of polished costumes, revelers coat themselves from head to toe and march along the shoreline like a prehistoric tribe.
The Tradition Started from a Joke in the ‘80s
Nation Herald / Bloco da Lama began in 1986 with a group of friends playing in the mangroves near Jabaquara Beach. They realized the mud made them completely unrecognizable.
Amused by their new look, they walked into town still covered in muck and shocked shop owners and neighbors.
The following year, the group returned with a bigger crowd and a clear theme. They dressed like cavemen, added skull props and vines, and chanted “Uga, Uga” as they roamed the streets. What started as a prank quickly became a local highlight of Carnival week.
Paraty sits between Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, two cities famous for huge Carnival celebrations. Visitors often pass through on their way to bigger parties. Some now stop specifically to roll in the mud.
In the early years, mud-covered participants paraded through the cobblestone streets of the historic center. Store owners complained about stained walls and sidewalks caked in dried sludge. Organizers responded by shifting most of the action back to the beach, where the mud belongs.
No Social Status!
Bloco da Lama feels different from the flashy parades seen on television. In Rio, samba schools compete inside the massive Sambadrome Marques de Sapucai with towering floats and expensive costumes. In Paraty, nobody cares about designer feathers or perfect choreography.
Once the mud goes on, everyone looks the same. Expensive sunglasses and brand-name outfits vanish under a layer of gray clay. A local entrepreneur named Charles Garcia Pessoa once summed it up by saying that in the mud, rich and poor jump into the same pit.
That leveling effect draws people in. There is no VIP section on the sand and no exclusive backstage area. You smear mud on your arms, your face, and your hair, and you join the crowd.
The mood stays playful instead of competitive. Nobody judges your dance moves when your eyebrows are hidden under sludge. Laughter spreads quickly when someone slips and slides back into the pit.
Tourism officials now support the event but stress the need for respect for public spaces. Organizers remind participants to stay near the beach and avoid private property. The goal is chaos in the sand, not damage in the town.
Creativity in the Chaos
China Daily / Mud is only the starting point. Many revelers decorate themselves with leaves, flowers, shells, and bits of driftwood.
Some craft makeshift crowns from palm fronds and pose for photos like jungle royalty.
The result looks like a cross between a tribal ritual and street theater. Groups form small “tribes” and move together, chanting and beating improvised drums. Faces become blank gray masks, broken only by wide grins and bright eyes.
Travelers now plan trips around Bloco da Lama. A visitor from New Zealand, Matt Bloomfield, once said he came after seeing photos of the muddy spectacle online. He described it as a refreshing twist on Carnival, where creativity grows from nature instead of costume shops.
Music keeps the energy high throughout the day. Local bands play samba rhythms mixed with reggae and other Brazilian styles. The steady beat echoes across the sand while mud-covered dancers stomp and sway in loose formation.
The chant of “Uga, Uga” still rings out, a nod to the caveman joke that started it all. It sounds silly at first, but soon the whole beach joins in. The chant becomes a shared joke that bonds strangers in seconds.