Carnival, Podence Portugal Style

New Orleans has its beads and floats, Rio de Janeiro has its samba dancing passitas but in Podence Portugal, Carnival is celebrated with its masked caretos.

The road from Lisbon was relatively quiet on this sometimes-rainy Shrove Sunday but as we exited all tranquility evaporated. Cars were queued up exiting from the east and street side parking was all that was available as we pulled towards town.

We followed the crowd, and those being bussed in, past the Guarda police force directing traffic and into the heart of it all. Red, yellow and green hatted locals lined the streets as we neared the sounds of the drumming. Boom boom boom. We pushed forward into the crowd to either side of us, anticipation mounting, what would unfold before us? Boom boom boom. Up onto a hillside to secure a better view. More red, yellow and green in banners and streamers, winding up the narrow village main street. Boom boom boom. Up on the hill and over the umbrellas we saw them. Our first glimpse of the parading Caretos. Proud. Jumping. Dancing. Marching to the beat. Boom boom boom.

Five years ago, we visited this part of Portugal on a three-week roadtrip. We stayed in Bragança and visited the Mask Museum with, of course, masks and costumes of the caretos. The museum was without any signage or context to speak of and, to a couple of Americanos, was utterly confusing. What is it exactly we are looking at?

Five years hence, here we were. Listening to the drums. Seeing the caretos. In the crush of the crowd. I’d read about this. I’d read that the caretos chase the locals, especially the women, to shock and scare them. So, if I’m being honest, I was a little nervous at what this Carnival celebration would bring. Would my camera make me a target?

Podence, “this small village in Trás-os-Montes… transforms into a living stage of ancestral rituals, where masked figures run through the streets to the sound of rattles and the revelry takes on contours that span centuries.

Recognized by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity since 2019, the Carnival of Podence is much more than a party — it’s a journey to the roots of Portuguese traditions, a ritual of renewal that celebrates the end of winter and the arrival of spring, in a land where olive oil shapes the rhythm of life and the people preserve ancestral memories”. (1)

“During Carnival, the Caretos run wild through the streets of Podence, jumping, shouting, and symbolically “rattling” anyone they encounter — especially women, in a tradition that evokes ancient fertility rituals. Protected by the anonymity of their masks, they feel free to play, provoke, and spread contagious energy to every corner of the village.” (1) Pagan. Primal. Mysterious like the standing stones that dot this countryside. Not to be understood, at least, not completely. Like we aren’t in on the secret.

But, in the waning light and cold of this mid-February day with spitting rain that felt a bit like sleet hailing down upon us, it all felt warm and welcoming. Young caretos, or facanitos, learning the trade posed with observers, then sent their fellow posers off with a hip check as they wrapped up the photos, jangling their belled belts. Elderly Portuguese from every surrounding village lined the roads, often in colorful garb or Carnival masks, awaiting the next surge of caretos up or down the street. Families and children joined the celebrations, taking selfies and observing the traditions.

We didn’t stay past sunset, but we were in the minority. And as we left, no one else was moving on. The streets were still lined and packed. But our hotel was 90 minutes away, so we chose to leave before the forecast rain moved in in earnest and it got too dark to navigate the narrow, windy road over the mountains. Even so, we felt as though perhaps we were leaving too soon. Before the next bit of excitement surged through the crowd. Before this Shrove Sunday of Carnival came to its head. Before the celebration really kicked in.

This small village, Podence, defined by this one weekend, this celebration of primal pagan urges. This UNESCO recognized spot in the world which passes tradition down from father to son, grandfather to granddaughter, in its odd ritual feels both shocking and scary, warm and welcoming, mysterious and mystical as it welcomes spring and shakes off winter. A winter that still holds on but soon will give way to the flowers and warmth of the new season and to the summer sun. Like a young careto learning the ways and opening the door to the warmer days ahead.

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