We headed to the little town of Goiás Velho to see the Procissão de Fogeréu. This colonial town has a very different character than other cities in Brasil and still has the (seemingly unrepaired) original stone streets laid by slaves from long ago. The streets are so rough that walking on them is dangerous if you are not watching your feet. Cars go very very slow. Speeding is definitely not an issue.
Most of the colonial houses have been preserved and are now shops or restaurants. We were lucky enough to stay in the house of a former Governor of the state of Bahia (Patrícia’s Uncle’s Grandfather) right on the main square across from the palace and the cathedral. It is a lovely spacious and high ceilinged house with courtyards and it could not have been a better base to watch the action.
News crews sporadically interviewed people, getting surplus footage and killing time along the procession route until midnight. The streets and main square started really filling up as the darkness and temperature fell. By 10:00 pm people were positioning themselves. We set up chairs in front of the house, drank beer, and watched people, and waited for the city workers to come by with a ladder and turn off the street lights. 
Then there was a kids mini-procession, which was a bizarre mix of Halloween and Easter. At this point I took my camera and headed up the now very dark street to watch the drummers signaling the start of the real procession. Fighting the masses of TV crews and photojournalists I wedged myself into position and the streets suddenly got much lighter and smokier as they handed out a few hundred torches to the crowd. The torches were black painted pop cans on sticks, filled with kerosene and a wick. I cannot imagine something this cool happening in the USA.
Then came the procession of Roman soldiers looking for Christ. Dressed in Klu Klux Klan like robes, but in much more flamboyant colors, they marched through the streets with torches, a sense of purpose, and an amazing disregard for their own ankle safety. They looked like a homosexual version of the KKK, or as I like to call them, the GayKK. I caught up with them at the church at the far side of town and watched as Christ (they found him) said something in Portuguese and then they were off again to somewhere else. It was brief, weird, and very interesting. There was a nice black and white t-shirt of the event, but it would have gotten me killed in the USA so I wisely decided to buy one with a view of the colonial streets.
