Ringing in the New Year in Brazil

Wait, I can't count(down) in Portuguese

It’s New Years Eve, and we’re in Balneario Camboriu, a seaside city with a population of 164,000 people that has swelled to an estimated 1.5 million for the holiday weekend. In typical Bear Family fashion, we start off the day doing some work! Yep, that’s the other half of the work-cation equation. Every day is an opportunity to learn, experience, and get stuff done as well.

In the afternoon, we eat yet another kilo-bar buffet. We’ve learned to keep it light and avoid overeating now. I think we’re finally able to resist trying every single item on offer. Then we go for a bike ride along the beach. There’s a place that rents two-person tricycles with a front bench for Baby Bear. It’s liberating to be able to cruise along the beach as walking the entire 5.6km stretch takes forever, and the holiday traffic makes driving even slower.

It’s a bit thrilling navigating the narrow bike lane as other bikes, electric scooters, and the occasional blind pedestrian cross in front, behind, and around us. Still, we zip past the cars and soon arrive at the north end of the beach where the large ferris wheel overlooks the city. From there we can see the entire mile-long beach, now completely filled with umbrellas, the water speckled with the dots of hundreds of people playing in the water.

After arriving home, we force ourselves to nap in preparation for staying up late for the New Year festivities. Then we do some more work, and I cook a fancy dinner of fried zucchini, Blumenau sausage, and Feijoada-flavored Cup-o-Noodles. It’s delicious.

Just before 10, we head out to the beach to join the festivities. The street is filled with people making their way to the beach with lawn chairs and coolers. We arrive at the beach and find it surprisingly relaxed. There are literally a million people on the beach, but with 3 miles of beach available, it doesn’t feel uncomfortably crowded. We make our way to the waterfront and find plenty of space to claim as our own.

It’s a gorgeous night, with a strong breeze. The city skyline wraps around us on one side and the moonlit ocean on the other. It’s surprisingly chill here. There’s no loud music, no drunk party-goers, no noisemakers of any kind. Most people (including ourselves) are dressed in white as is tradition in Brazil, giving the beach an elegant rather than rowdy look.

There’s a family relaxing near us, and Baby Bear goes over to play in the sand with another girl. The girl comes up to us and asks why Baby Bear doesn’t seem to understand her. We tell here we don’t understand Portuguese, but she is happy to keep chatting with all of us anyways.

And then it rains. Giant drops come at us driven by strong horizontal winds. We hide under our umbrellas. Others hide under what they can find: their chairs, a tent, a dog. There are some people in the water playing in the waves. No reason for them to stop. Twenty minutes before midnight, the rain passes, and the crowds thicken. The countdown begins, confusing my mind. For some reason I expected the countdown to be in English and I can’t quite make out the numbers. Then the sky explodes.

The fireworks aren’t just in front of us; they are to the left, to the right, everywhere the eye can see. Identical rockets are launching from barges along the entire 3 mile stretch of beach. It’s like a kaleidoscope has multiplied the fireworks over our entire 180 degree field of view. When I turn around, I can still see the fireworks, reflected in the glass towers of the endless skyline. The show runs for almost 20 minutes of brilliant, dazzling pyrotechnics, lighting up the night sky over Balneario Camboriu with an array of colors. Each burst of color reflects not just in the sky but also dances on the surface of the ocean, creating a spectacle of dual beauty.

When the last firework fades into the night, a momentary hush falls over the crowd, as if the entire beach is taking a collective breath. Then, as if on cue, applause breaks out, a communal expression of gratitude for the shared experience of beauty and celebration that heralds the start of a new year in this enchanting seaside city.

Then as we make our way through the crowds back to our apartment, it begins to drizzle. A few minutes after we arrive home, the rain comes down in torrents, having only paused long enough to allow the fireworks to dazzle. We feel so lucky to be able to walk home. We heard that many revelers who tried to drive fifteen minutes home were stuck in traffic for five hours.

The next day, we try to squeeze in all the things we haven’t done yet in Brazil. Baby Bear catches some more tatuira at the beach (can never get enough). Then we have some tapioca pancakes stuffed with shredded beef and catapury. Yum. We go back to Hola because they have the best empanadas ever. (btw, they brand the item number on each empanada). We even wait in the ever-present McDonalds Soft Serve line to get a cone as every block in all of Brazil seems to have a McDonald’s ice cream which has a huge line all the time.

Then we take part in another New Year’s tradition here: jumping seven waves for good luck. So we go to the beach at night, take off our shoes, hold hands, and start jumping over the little waves that slink onto the sand. One wave, two waves, three, four... Mama Bear sees a credit card floating in the water and picks it up. Wait, it’s HER credit card. She looks at her cell phone and finds that her driver’s license has also fallen out of the pouch. We search the sandy churning waves for a few minutes in the dark, hovering over the water with our cellphone flashlights. Then suddenly it appears and I snatch it out of the water like a bear fishing in the stream. We finish our seven jumps. Lucky indeed! Happy New Year Everyone.