I was not entirely sure what to expect when I was invited to go to a Japanese Festival being held at one of Sao Paulo’s oversized convention centers this last weekend. I knew that Sao Paulo has an immensely large population of Japanese descendents called the Nikkei living in the city but, beyond that, I had never even heard of a Japanese Festival. Others certainly had though.
As our vehicle approached the highway exit to the convention center we began to jockey with other cars and imperious motos for place in queue akin to the final lap of a NASCAR race. Our car, driven by my roommate Pericle’s friend Renan and loaded with his other friend Jay, Pericles and myself, collectively marveled at the amounts of people walking across the highway overpass to and from the festival. We shambled in traffic for quite some time until we eventually arrived at the parking lot where the fight for first to get in and park recommenced. This gave us some time to observe all the people pouring into the convention centers main entrance; naturally, the majority of them were Asian. In total the website for the Festival estimated that 190,000 people attended over the course of three days.
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| The Torri with Jay and Pericles posing under it. |
Japanese customs are imbued in the country’s lengthy history and strict culture so there was no surprise that the entrance to the festival was marked by a large red Torri; the traditional Japanese wooden structure that marks Shinto temples all over Japan. As our group entered the festival we took note that it was divided into two large sections. The outdoor section contained an assortment of Japanese restaurants under a large white tarp and a performing stage for musical routines and other demonstrations. The indoor section, located in the convention building itself, was divided into show booths displaying Japanese businesses, crafts and other aspects of the culture. The aroma of shrimp teriyaki and our growling stomachs led us over to the outside pavilion first.
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| Daburo, the Japanese Devil of...luck? |
As we scouted out the different restaurants and compared the prices and amounts of food being given at each one, we ran into the devil. Covered in dry straw from his chest down and carrying a gnarled wooden cane topped with streamers of white paper, this guy danced from leg to leg around people who dared walk close enough to him. Adults tittered behind their hands, adolescents slung out taunts and little children made sure to stay far away from the strange dancing man. I cannot blame the kids for avoiding him though; the devil wore a blood red mask with long white fangs, two tall horns and a full mane of black hair that covered his neck and swept over his eyes. The mask is called a hannya mask and represents the Japanese devil Daburo.
A funny fact about Daburo though, is that if you buy a Daburo statue it is said to bring luck and prosperity. Rather odd for the devil, I believe. Jay told us that when you bring the devil statue home with you it comes with two blank eyes that you make a wish upon. As you will your desires into the devil statue you are supposed to paint one of the eyes and after the wish comes true you paint the other one to complete the wish. Who would have guessed the devil would be the one to grant your wish? Although, the devil in Japanese mythology is more of an enforcer of justice and good doing than he is someone who tempts your hand into sinful acts.
We treaded cautiously around our friend the Japanese Devil and continued our search of decently priced convention food but, I was sidetracked by the sounds of short, loud and authoritative shouts. I let them lead me to the area where the stage was and witnessed an Aikido demonstration, an ancient Japanese martial art involving wrist manipulation and using an opponent’s attacks against him. I pushed my way through the crowd to the front of the stage and stuck my nose as close to the action as I could get. People tumbled and flew through the air in flowery acts of powerful athletic display as the stage reverberated violently when they landed upon their backs. The demonstrations brought back fond memories of when I practiced Aikido in Providence, Rhode Island some years back.
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| Grandma Badass tossing another practitioner |
I was never very good at actually performing the complicated techniques but, I excelled at being thrown around as the demonstration dummy for my instructor. I had practiced for two years though and could appreciate the begrudging “Oomph!” from the people who were taking the falls after spinning through the air. I could not help but grin whole heartedly; I guess there is a bit of a masochist in me. What was most impressive was a frail older woman who effortlessly was flipping an opponent head over heels who must have weighed two times as much as her. I stayed for the entire performance with my camera glued to my face as I groaned in unison with some of the practitioners who took an occasional nasty looking spill.
When the marital artists began their closing bows I shoved my way back through the crowd to rejoin my associates and we ventured to finish our quest for food. I settled for Japanese noodles with meat and vegetables and we ate on concrete steps while we listened to a Japanese drum demonstration; their deep beats echoing across the festival as I fought with the slippery noodles.
We quickly ate our meals and moved to the inside of the convention center where I lost sight of Pericles and Renan. Not one to wait around or spend too much time searching out where they might have gone, I made way around the booths with Jay who stuck by me. I think he was torn though to either stay with the Gringo or go search for his friends, but maybe he felt obligated to stick with me. Together we made our way around the convention center, occasionally stopping at a booth to check out the latest motorcycles being produced by Yamaha or scope out some traditional Japanese candy.
In the middle of the convention center there was a somber tribute to the victims of this past year’s Japanese earthquake. Photos lined make shift aisles where people quietly and carefully moved down; examining the images of destruction and loss. I paid my respects and moved back and forth with the crowd of people whilst admiring the destructive capabilities of the planet and the risks the photographers took to bring the world such proof. I only needed to look once and departed soon after.
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| Guests move up and down aisles to observe images of the destruction caused by last years earthquake |
Now what would a Japanese Festival be without videogames? Jay and I made our way out of the center of the convention building and started to skirt the walls of the festival to come across a crowd of people standing around a large flat screen TV. The crowd shouted and cheered as two people stared intently at the screen and battled against each other to a popular fighting game. To those of you who have little shame in rocking your inner nerd, the game was Marvel vs. Capcom 3. The players played best two of three matches and then would trade their controllers to two others who would do the same.
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| The gentleman in the red shirt was the tournament's winner. |
We arrived late in the tournament to watch the semifinal matches and then the final match where the two pros commanded their digital persons into performing dazzling special moves fit to give anyone with epilepsy a killer seizure. The winner was awarded the equivalent of almost US$1,000 worth of video gaming merchandise and gift cards. Not too shabby for mashing buttons on a remote control for a few hours.
Our circuit nearly completed we joined up with Pericles and Renan to make our exit from the festival in the early evening, as most others were beginning to do the same. Conveniently located at the exit of the festival was Nintendo’s booth where young gamers eagerly ran to snatch Wii remotes from the booth workers hands. Also at the booth were drop dead gorgeous women. To die for gorgeous women.
These tall Brazilian babes were all smiles as they moved their curvy figures sensually around the booth giving flirty waves to pimple faced youths and overweight adult men. Some of the braver ones requested to have photos taken with the ladies and they happily obliged with taunting poses and titalizing gazes. I began to work up my courage to request one myself but then something else caught my eye. Mario, Luigi and Donkey Kong, the heroes of my youth, appeared from around the corner in full costume with arms waving.
I was torn between the beautiful Brazilian chicas or the costumed cartoon characters I had spent hours controlling on a tiny TV screen in my mother’s basement. The lines were long and my time was short; I would only have time for one photo. Should I stand in line to have a chance to wrap my arms around the busty beauties with all the other men? Or, should I join the screaming five and six-year-olds holding their mothers hands eagerly waiting to meet my former fictional heroes. The choice was made and I left the festival soon after satisfied with my decision. 
