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.