Mayor of Rio de Janeiro Eduardo Paes on Wednesday ceremoniously handed control of the Brazilian city to King Momo, a ritual representing the upheaval of the status quo – and within hours, samba schools’ elaborate floats and feather-festooned dancers began parading between packed bleachers. But it remains to be seen how much post-pandemic partying is in store during the first carnival in two years. City Hall refused to grant permission for the more than 500 street parties that usually run wild through the city during the six days of what’s considered the world’s largest carnival. It claimed the authorities lacked sufficient time to prepare in the wake of disruption caused by Covid-19. That dissonance has sparked debate over whether City Hall is stifling the essence of carnival, and if denizens should seize the streets as their own. Some organisers couldn’t care less what is allowed; they will turn out anyway – part party, part protest – and Paes, a confessed carnival enthusiast, has said he will refrain from deploying the Municipal Guard. “City Hall won’t impede people from being in public spaces, from celebrating, but it’s impossible for it to happen with [so many people],” Paes said, in response to a reporter’s question after giving King Momo the city’s key. His statement echoed recent comments he made while visiting samba schools that were putting finishing touches on their floats. A Hong Kong nostalgia tour: 10 of the best attractions city has lost The competing schools were put in the Sambadrome Marques de Sapucai stadium in the 1980s, and became Rio’s quintessential carnival display for tens of thousands of attendees willing to shell out for tickets. Their parades will run until Sunday night. In the Sambadrome’s shadow are the free parties known as blocos , which stream through streets and pour into plazas. Many members relish subverting established order. What blocos lack in glamour, they make up for with glitter and grit. Costumes range from racey to outlandish, and are sometimes clever digs at authority figures. Blocos had largely vanished as samba schools claimed the spotlight, but their resurgence in the 1990s dovetailed with redemocratisation after two decades of military dictatorship, according to André Videira, a sociology professor at the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro who has studied blocos . Later, they began assuming forms akin to brass bands in the United States, without the need for sound trucks or drum sections that hinder mobility. Blocos were free to roam. “They are important vehicles for the democratisation of access to culture and access to the city,” Videira said. Since 2010, more than 150 blocos have refused City Hall’s institution of a registration process, with many viewing it as an attempt to formalise something inherently informal, Videira said. They insist celebrating carnival isn’t contingent on authorities’ consent – not this year, nor any other. On April 13, dozens of musicians marched through Rio’s Centro district, blasting their horns, banging their drums and demanding to be heard. The euphoric protest was organised by Ocupa Carnival, a group that days earlier had drafted a manifesto denouncing perceived attempts to commodify and repress blocos that was signed by more than 125 of them. “It’s important to be collectively pressuring the government, so carnival is recognised and supported like it should be,” Karen Lino, 29, said while sporting a jaguar-print outfit, reflecting her role as a dancer in the Friends of the Jaguar bloco . But she is also a member of the troupe that will lead the reigning samba school champion, Viradouro, through the Sambadrome this year. “It’s hypocritical of the government not to give attention to other sectors.” On Tuesday, a columnist in Rio de Janeiro’s main newspaper, O Globo , wrote that City Hall was washing its hands of policymaking duties by leaving blocos in legal limbo. “Apparently prohibition didn’t make much sense, as the blocos bring the soul of carnival to the streets and are fundamental for the city’s spirit,” wrote Leo Aversa. “If [Paes] thinks it can’t be done, isn’t possible, the coherent thing would be to prohibit it seriously. If he thinks there’s no problem, the right thing would be to free them with conviction.” Paes fired back on Twitter: “The correct thing is not having blocos ! They aren’t authorised and we won’t have the structure for the party.” In the carnival’s 2020 edition, just before Covid-19 reached Brazil, more than seven million people partied in the so-called “Street Carnival”, according to city figures. Crowds are densely packed, bottles are shared around and kissing is custom: a paradise for partiers, and a vector for viruses. Bloco participants had little desire to turn out last year as Brazil’s catastrophic second Covid-19 wave hit . It was the first time in a century that Rio’s pre-Lenten festivities were cancelled, and Paes bestowed the city’s key to health workers instead of King Momo. With the Omicron variant spreading in January , Paes proposed blocos be relegated to enclosed, controlled spaces to check proof of vaccination upon entry. That idea ran counter to the freewheeling nature of blocos , and some organisers expressed worry it was a further attempt to “privatise” the carnival by yoking them with corporate sponsorship. Most demurred, but with daily Covid-19 deaths near zero for over a month and the mask mandate lifted, people want to party. Some blocos played last weekend, and schedules of their unsanctioned performances are circulating widely on WhatsApp. The spokesperson for Rio’s tourism promotion agency, Cecilia de Moraes, defended the city’s decision to deny authorisation, saying it takes months to coordinate and contract provision of fencing, portable toilets and extra dump trucks to prevent street parties from becoming a huge nuisance. “When things [with Covid-19] improve and people survive, the blocos see it’s going well, they want to come out. But we can’t flick a switch,” she said. Rio’s bigger blocos , which draw tens or even hundreds of thousands of revellers, have fallen into line. They use sound trucks and rely on the city for traffic detours, rubbish clean-up and more to limit disruption. Rita Fernandes, who leads the Sebastiana association of blocos , said they are holding fire for 2023. “We don’t want to come out at any cost, our sponsor cancelled, we were discouraged by Omicron. In the end, everything was demobilised,” Fernandes said by phone. “We don’t think the city will support over four days the volume of blocos that there are. We don’t want to create chaos in the city.” The little island that could have been Hong Kong Others are unconvinced. Tomás Ramos, a saxophonist and member of the group that organised the April 13 protest, cited a municipal ordinance that came into effect last year determining support for the carnival as a “guaranteed right”, and said City Hall had no plan B to ensure that without its key sponsor, Brazilian brewer Ambev. At the end of the protest, Ramos shouted to musicians and spectators gathered at the steps of Rio’s municipal theatre, rallying them for full-bore carnival festivities. “Down with the turnstiles that transform the city into big business, where profit prevails over life, where money is freer than people!” he boomed, and the crowd echoed his words. “As they capitalise on reality, we socialise dreams! Long live the energy of rebellion!” Additional reporting by Staff Reporter