Festa Junina

Festa Junina in Caruaru. Credits: Camocim VIP News.

Perhaps less well-known than Carnaval, but definitely just as important, northeastern Brazil's Festa Junina marks a day (more like weeks) of parties integrating traditions from Brazil, Europe, and Africa involving a mash-up of saints- Johnny, Petey, Paulie and Tony. It's also a day of honoring the end of the rainy season and the sanctity of marriage. Throw in a little bit of country square dancing called quadrila, costumes, and a whole mess of music, food and drink, and you've got the makings of bewildering yet meaningful traditions. Recife alone will host 200 parties, shows and concerts around the city wheras 2 hours inland the city of Caruaru, the capital of Forro, hosts the biggest Festa Junina party in the world.

I say bewildering because every single decoration and costume blasts with color and design. Multicolored flags and plastic lanterns cover the ceilings. There are so many pictures of saints and icons that it gives an Orthodox church a run for its money. Ladies sport loud dresses all pinned with ribbons, pom-poms or miniature dolls. Even the mock bride, who represents matrimony and re-birth wears a white dress with neon pieces of flair. Men might wear plaid button downs with tattered pants and straw hats. Others might wear gaucho costumes or bandit outfits from the sertão or backwoods of NE Brazil. Those without naturally large freckles, gap teeth or pencil thin mustaches- are drawn on. 

Mercado Sao Jose- HQ for... everything. 

A whole ton of lace and polyester. 

Decorative lanterns. 

The music and dance, called Forró is just as colorful, sounding like a mix of salsa, country, polka, mariachi and blues. It's heavy on the accordion, acoustic guitar and triangle with catchy syncopated rhythms and tells stories of homesickness, love (lost or found), passion, or jealousy.

Then there's the food. I have never seen so many things made out of corn before: bread, cake, porridge; popcorn, couscous, and cookies. Only Brazilians call them broa, bolo de milho, canjica; pipoca, cuzcous, and aberém. Corn on the cob, meat on a stick, soups in a pumpkin. At Festa Junina, you go big or go home- eating is mandatory fun. It was here where I discovered my daughter's love of farofa covered steak (toasted cassava root)  and Deets enjoying corn flower based cookies.  

Of course, the kid's school spent a large amount of energy organizing and executing their own Festa Junina. Normally my son keeps a low profile and doesn't like mass group performances. Believe it or not, he embraced the loud music and cheering fans as his class took the floor to dance. He's also repeatedly asked to wear a mustache. Margo wanted to sleep in her dress and asks me every day to wear batom- Portuguese for lipstick. I think Brazilian indoctrination is working. For me too because I am just starting to understand the love and respect this country has for the classics. On the surface these celebrations seem over the top, but Brazil has a unique way of embracing its heritage- and I certainly could use more of that. 

 

Boys getting ready for their guitar solos.

Carnaval 2015 in Olinda

Normally when I party, one day suits me plenty. I like quitting while it is still fun so I can reminisce the rare days spent gyrating, mixing my alcohol, and feel the crowded intimacy of glowing compatriots. After our serendipitous libations with the giant rooster, I knew I had to rally for our next day in Olinda. Celebrating day number three of Carnaval at a fancy pousada (hotel) snugly tucked in the row house streets of Olinda, the heart of intense and meaningful "Cultural Carnaval" for northeast Brazil. Of course, there was the predictable flow of cheap cold beer, grilled meats, trashed streets, and throes of drunkards too.

Mark, my father-in-law, and I caught a cab and arrived at the foot of Olinda around 10 am and began our adventurous hike up the streets. Drum groups called batucadas dominated the cobblestone streets like the Pied Piper, drawing crowds of people behind them. Giant bonecos (dolls) dotted the crowds like landmarks, and the colors- oh gosh, the colors of costume clad partiers competed for attention against the already colorful city. The energy was undeniable and nobody couldn't not dance or stomp around. We wormed our way to the Quatro Cantos Pousada and past the ginormous security guards and into the shady oasis. From the patio above we watched the mayhem and settled in for a day of raucous behavior. 

I loved every minute of it. Traveling bands passed through the streets which meant so the noise and crowds would ebb and flow too. We had our own live music and again- everyone knew every single samba song and every single word. As our afternoon wound down we said our goodbyes and ventured out into the twilight against the never ending flow of people. At the party in Recife we caught a cab early enough in the game that we didn't wait at all. This time however, we weren't so lucky. Or maybe we were, because after 90 minutes of trying to hail a cab, Mark ended up doling out some cash to an "off-duty" taxi driver (he was clearly hanging out for people like us willing to pay double) to get us home- totally worth it for everyone involved. 

Around 7:30pm we arrived to the back of our building where our magazine stand guy was hosting the second night of his street party. The dancing more or less continued but admittedly with less enthusiasm on my part. Tired and sore, I called it a night and promptly passed out from exhaustion. Now the question is, do I attempt to do this again today? Too early to tell, but I could totally see me rallying, maybe after a nap.

Mark Schlink, you literally MAKE my blog.
Thanks for the photos.