My project for Rio Memórias focuses on the Feira de Tradições Nordestinas, located in the neighborhood of São Cristóvão, one of Rio de Janeiro's most significant cultural spaces, and also a place deeply tied to my personal history. Although I wasn't born in São Cristóvão, I now live in the neighborhood, which is part of my family's memory. It was at the Feira that my parents met in 1984, and because of that, it represents for me a link between my family's Northeastern roots and the city where I grew up. The Feira's history began back in the 1940s, when trucks known as paus de arara brought thousands of Northeasterners to Rio de Janeiro in search of better job opportunities. Upon arriving at Campo de São Cristóvão, the final stop for most of these trucks, they would gather to trade and sell products from their home regions. On Sundays, the site would fill with stalls and turn into a space of cultural celebration, with forró, accordion, and zabumba. Over time, that improvised gathering of migrants grew and became established around the Pavilhão de São Cristóvão. In 2003, the Feira was officially institutionalized at the pavilion and was named after the "King of Baião," Luiz Gonzaga. Since then, it has become established as a Carioca cultural and intangible heritage site, a space for socializing, gastronomy, music, and identity. When I hear my mother, Vera Lúcia, now 69 years old and a public servant, talk about the Feira, I feel that time doesn't pass there, it just changes shape. She tells me that, at 28, when she met my father, "the fair was in the middle of the street, with many stalls selling food, drinks, and open-air forró." A native of Pernambuco who had just arrived in Rio, she always loved dancing, and for her, "the fair was a wonderful place, where we could gather with friends, dance, and have fun on weekends." One of her most striking memories is the lambada competitions, in which the accordion players would separate couples to dance and reward the winners with money or a case of beer. "It wasn't a competition, it was enjoyable," she says. Today, looking back, she feels nostalgia, but also gratitude for everything she experienced, "simple, happy times, which remain alive inside me." Vera Lúcia's memories reveal a generation that experienced the Feira in its most spontaneous essence, to the sound of the accordion and under the open sky, when gatherings were truly celebrated.
Carlinhos, my personal friend and retired ex-taxi driver, has been a loyal regular for more than twelve years. He usually goes to the Feira every Sunday to have lunch, meet friends, dance, and “chase away the sadness that lives inside us.” He says he likes to sit at Barraca do Aconchego, where he drinks his beer, chats, sings, and sometimes even cries with the songs that play. For him, the Feira is a democratic space, “where everyone is welcome, whoever wants to dance dances, whoever just wants to flirt, flirts.” He also recalls the improvements he has witnessed over the years: “Before, the bathroom was terrible; now it's great. Now there's a metal detector at the main entrance, security, and lots of options for shops, little bars, and restaurants with good food.” But, above all, what brings him back is the feeling of belonging. “I come back because of the friendships. Nobody stays alone there,” he says proudly. Another testimony comes from Alexandre, a taxi driver for 44 years and now an app driver, 65 years old, originally from Acre. A regular attendee, he arrives at the Feira every Sunday afternoon and only leaves at night. His words are full of enthusiasm and affection: “I get there around four and stay until ten, just dancing.” He happily lists the stalls that are part of his routine: Barraca do Amor Dois, where a forró pé-de-serra trio plays, the former Barraca Só Lua, the Fortaleza, Barraca do Mário, and Bar do Aconchego. He describes the Feira as a place that's “too good, where people dance a lot of xote and seresta.” In his voice, you can tell that the Feira is not just a leisure spot, it's an emotional territory, where dancing becomes a form of celebration and music is almost a prayer. These testimonies show that the Feira is more than a tourist spot pulsing between past and present. Personal stories intertwine with the collective history of the São Cristóvão neighborhood, creating a network of memories that sustain the Northeastern identity in the city of Rio. The music, the forró pé-de-serra, the singing at the karaoke stands, the choro, the meetings, the partings, the reunions make up a mosaic of sounds that echo the Northeast within the Rio de Janeiro capital. Observing what has changed and what has remained, I see that the Feira de São Cristóvão is, at the same time, a historical and emotional heritage. It is a place where tourism meets cultural authenticity, where the visitor becomes part of a living history. It is not just a space to consume, but to belong, a welcoming territory that holds memories, accents, and affections. I understand that the Feira is like a mirror of life itself: made of encounters, farewells, longing, music, and resistance. To speak of it is to revisit my origins, my parents' love, the voices echoing in the stalls, and the sound of accordions that never cease. The Feira de São Cristóvão is the place where the Northeast pulses within Rio and where I keep going, body and soul, reconnecting with my roots.
