Brazilian Weekend

Did you know that outside of Japan, Brazil has the largest Japanese colony in the world? I did not know until my weekend was spent Brazilian-Japanese style. They are very much like us Chinese in Malaysia. Most of them are 3rd Generation Japanese in Brazil. Their grandparents were originally from Japan. They have names like Luciana Mayumi, Marino Gushiken, Marcus Hidetoshi, Ronaldo Takahashi, Lucio Masami and Silva Teruhiko. I made a total fool of myself when I first met my colleague who is a 3rd generation Japanese. I tried to show off whatever little Japanese that I know. It turns out that, that dude don’t speak a word of it! They’re confused people I tell you. More confused than us Malaysian. At least we have our Manglish and our dialects! These people only speak Portuguese. To be honest, it’s actually hilarious. A bunch of people with slit eyes talking in Klingon! I cannot help but laugh when I see them converse.

But these dudes are really cool. They invited me over to their place for a BBQ and to watch the Brazilian vs. France match on Saturday. The evening started early (around 300pm. The sky gets dark at 5 remember?) My friend (Marino Gushiken) stayed in an apartment so I had to help carry the 42 inch TV down to the pool side. I tried to hold him responsible if I had hernia, but he couldn’t understand what it was. He was even more confused when I explained. “You mean your balls will expand?” he asked ignorantly. Jeeze! I give up.

What greeted me after that was even more amazing. Around 20 minutes before the match started (4pm), there was the biggest congregation of Brazilian-Japanese I’ve ever seen. Kah-Nee-Neh, it turned out that Gushiken had invited the whole village! Everyone there is exactly the same. Japanese who ‘nao comprehendo’ Inglish nor Japanese! Every one of them came equipped with Fog horns, banners, flags and everything else short of painted faces and bodies!

What followed was the epitome of communication (or rather miscommunication)! They (Klingon speakers) and me (nao comprehendo Portuguese) sitting down watching the game and discussing it! Throughout the game, chants of Bhazil! Honaldo! Honaldinyo! (The ‘R’ is pronounced as ‘H’ here) can be heard not only from our congregation, but all around! Freaking amazing! Maybe that’s why it’s called Joga Bonito…beautiful game. But beautiful game it was not for Brazil. Pahera (Coach Alberto Carlos Parreira) was named a Karalu (Son of a bitch). Apparently the Brazilians adore Robinho and Cincinho and they cannot understand why Ronaldo and Cafu are always playing in their place. In the 57th minute Henry scored. I was pretty sure a riot was about to begin. But lucky for me, the only creature that got torn to pieces was the cow. Everybody got so pissed that they forget about the game and started barbequing. Food at last… And guess what was served with the barbequed meat? Farofa* Rice and White Rice! Rice with barbeque! What the F---??? The conclusion is: No matter how you mask yourself, the slit eyes genes, comes with an innate craving for rice! (*Farofa is rice mixed with corn with shredded chicken meat and bananas all mashed up).

Food was downed together with 15 liters of Chopp beer. (Chopp is a light beer…kinda go easy on the brain cells). My host was thoughtful enough to even buy the whole keg and rent a dispenser machine. As if 15 liters was not enough for the whole village and me, there were also bottles of vodka, lime and lime juice to make the Brazilian national cocktail Caipirosky (Pronounced: Kah-pee-ros-kee). Brazil may have lost, but the party goes on…And to quote Ronald Mcdonald, “Amo Muito Tudo Isso” (I’m loving it!)

(15 liters of Chopp Beer...Saude!)