Street carnival adds sparkle to New Year's Eve

Street carnival adds sparkle to New Year's Eve

Chisato Hara, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

New Year's Eve celebrations in the capital can generally be put
into two categories: one, the formal sit-down dinner at a five-
star hotel with a billed entertainer, usually of international
renown; and two, the outdoor entertainment gala with dangdut
singers, dancers, food stalls and traditional fireworks show.

A thematic event to usher in the new year is something of a
rarity here, especially one catering to families with little ones
in tow, but the Brazilian Street Carnival hosted by Cilandak Town
Square in South Jakarta was a festival of sounds, lights, color
and fun for all ages.

Possibly the only open-air shopping mall in town, Cilandak
Town Square -- or Citos (chi' toss) as it is commonly known -- is
popular among families seeking a spacious and casual venue where
they can lounge and relax at the weekend, as well as among young
professionals and teenagers who crave the cafe culture of
streetside Europe, without getting smoked out by the perennial
Jakarta exhaust.

Although a street carnival in the midst of a shopping
establishment may seem an incongruous concept, the open, breezy
design of Citos provides just the casual, laid-back atmosphere to
host such an event.

As Enof of event organizer enofpro said: "We wanted to put on
an event that was unique in Jakarta, but which also catered to
families... and we came up with the Brazilian street carnival
concept, with the local Rama Shinta legend integrated into the
costume designs, for a lively, colorful festival with a touch of
sexiness that is an inherent part of any Latin celebration."

Beginning at 7 p.m., the mall restricted entry to only those
with tickets for the New Year's carnival, which went on sale
about a month in advance. At Rp 150,00 per person, adults and
children alike, it may seem an extravagance, but Rp 100,000 was
redeemed in four Rp 25,000 vouchers, good for food and beverages
at any of the many restaurants, fast-food outlets, cafes and
drinks stalls at the mall, which remained open after-hours until
the last stragglers departed at 4 a.m.

While the ground-floor cafes and restaurants pulled out extra
tables into the corridor wing -- with a "reserved" plaque to
indicate preferential treatment to New Year's guests --
additional tables and chairs were set up along the circular
balcony above the main atrium, all draped in satiny white
tablecloths.

Low barricades were placed at the front and rear entryways,
leading to a covered, bright-orange gate, requisite security
guards standing at attention with their hand-held metal
detectors. Once through, the first 100 guests received
complimentary masks bejeweled with sequins of emerald, ruby,
amethyst, amber and sapphire hues.

Tickets were also available at the door until 11:30 p.m., but
some preferred instead to stake out a vantage point by the
barricades (by 9 p.m., ticketless revelers formed rows two-men
deep) from where they could still enjoy the processions to come.

But first, music, maestro! The two bridges adjoining the upper
corridors were cordoned off to create makeshift stages, each with
a separate ensemble of instruments and sound equipment.
Brazilian-Latino was the exclusive genre, sounded out by the
Latino Acoustic Quartet and El Pasco Band to set the rhythm of
the night. Guest DJs Blanco and Sonny were not to be outdone by
the strumming guitars, tabla drums and double bass, and upped the
tempo to the delight of hip-hopping teens swaying along the
balcony rails.

Meanwhile, families sat down to a leisurely dinner, played in
the virtual realm of Timezone arcade, browsed for knick-knacks at
free-standing accessory stalls, sought out the mediumistic advice
of the fortune-teller, got an ultra-cool tattoo for the evening
at the body painting booth or posed with the twin statue mimes,
painted head to toe in gold and silver. Those strolling through
the open mall were caught unawares as a red ninja lurked
stealthily -- now you see him, now you don't.

Around 10 p.m., the popular Duo Percussion took up the rhythm,
jamming up a syncopated duet, switching from one drum set to
another, their blur of drumsticks never missing a beat.

By now, the crowd around the barricades had grown to five-men
deep, just in time for the procession of Brazilian dancers,
whirling in glamorous corsets of white, red, green and violet,
with chiffon capes that unfurled like angel-wings. Other dancers
strutted down the ground-floor corridor towards the atrium with a
peacock-like adornment, sashaying to guests on either side, a hip
swing here, a cocked knee there, rouge lips curved in a diva's
smile.

Just when the last tail-feathers passed by, the Grupo Bahia
caporiste cartwheeled into view, stopping intermittently to form
a ring -- the toda wheel -- and playing in an impromptu pas de
deux of aerials, spinning handstands, roundhouse kicks, twisting
acrobatics and kip-ups to continue the parade, followed by cheers
and applause.

A marching band from the University of Indonesia (UI) decked
out in red and silver uniforms picked up the trail, brass
instruments and top hats glimmering in the cascade of multi-
coloured spotlights, striking up a different tune, but one no
less energizing. As the band stepped in time in two straight
lines, the bandleader whipped his baton while marching against
the flow between the musicians.

Towering over the revelers at a height of three meters, two
clowns on stilts capped with itty-bitty sneakers loped through,
followed by a retinue of jugglers and unicyclists who stopped
every now and then to make a funny face at a giggling child.

Ethnic dancers in grass skirts and a crown of black, red and
white feathers, a second UI marching band in shimmering purple
and finally the Parody Cabaret, a transvestite troupe, catwalked
in black and silver down the aisle to the atrium and almost out
the rear gate, where the entire procession turned for a final run
through the roaming spotlight accompanied by the continuous flash
of cameras.

As guests peering over the upper balcony watched the
procession below, the Parody Cabaret and clowns rode up the
escalators for a close-up pass.

Perhaps because of a heightened sense of anticipation spurred
by the vibrant show, the revelers spontaneously began the
countdown 10 minutes early, before the emcee had a chance. As the
honking and bleating of the customary paper horns echoed
throughout Citos along with shouts of "Selamat Tahun Baru,"
(Happy New Year) the real countdown began -- albeit drowned out
by noisy revelry -- to the cadence of a single drumbeat. A second
and actual marking of the rollover into 2004, and the crowd
whooped out into another round of joyous honks.

Although the organizer had targeted 4,000 guests, by the close
of the event, at least 8,600 Jakartans had gathered to bid
farewell to the past and to usher in the future, hearts beating
in celebration to the reenergizing rhythm of a Brazilian-Latino
carnival.

For those interested in sharing the moment with others in a
fun-filled party atmosphere, instead of the stodginess of a hotel
ballroom, the carnival concept will be to their liking.