We arrived in Bolivia just in time for the Carnival.
Did I have any preconceptions as to what a Latin American carnival would entail? I would lie if I said no. I imagined narrow streets lined with old buildings and crowds of locals dressed in traditional clothes singing traditional songs and dancing in circles. Nothing of the sort. Turned out Carnival time was a HUGE affair, needing a four lane boulevard to unfold and lasting days.
The party started with a crazy warm up. We watched with gaping mouths humans of all ages going wild at each other with spray foam canisters and water guns~
Now this is not something that can happen in the US. Trust me. There will be lawsuits. Bolivians didn’t just squirt foam gently from a distance. What I witnessed was a foam massacre and nothing was off limits. All around me kids and grownups were emptying foam canister in each other faces, under t-shirts and armpits. Our kids looked at me in disbelief, seeking permission to engage. I hid behind Kuba and watched the action sheepishly from behind.
Then, out of the blue, came the little balloon bombs filled with water. I hope you never find out about these killers. They are small but can hurt like hell. I got one on the back of my head thrown from a 100 m by a giant bear probably. The pain was so sharp and unexpected. WTF. I turned around to see a giggling group hiding behind a vehicle. Ok. I get it. This is supposed to be fun. Instead I wanted a revenge, nothing short of murder. I gave B 10 bolivianos to buy a foam canister and send him running towards the boys responsible for my suffering.
Still hiding behind Kuba, but this time watching my back, I took solace in the cuteness around me.
Bolivians are tiny people anyways, but when they are children, they are really small. Obviously, there is a a whole industry producing elaborate tiny outfits for these tiny humans, hats, tiny shoes and embroidered scarfs included. I mean, just look at these ladies with their nail polish, braided hairs and full on make up.
Well, cuteness was marching hand in hand with kitsch. Yes, Disney world, not that you care, but I thought you should know that blond wigs and polyester princess dresses are pretty hot with the dark Bolivian niñas. Bolivian culture can proudly stand on its own without the cars covered with cute Disney animals and glittering castles, but … alas.
Now, I will be freaked out if I am three years old, dressed as Snow white and propped on a car that is driving through a thick crowd, but at that age even Santa holding a bag of presents made me hide under carpets. I was super shy. Those three Bolivian girls though were totally at ease with all the attention they were getting.
More kitsch for adults this time. This ginormous paper mache airplane blew my mind. To top it off, it was fitted with glasses and three beauty Queens. They were at the mercy of foam and water gun attacks from the audience.
Were they having a good time? Who am I to judge.
The other three beauty Queens on the main stage were pretty sheltered. Sitting on a covered podium, they had the best deal and no one was obstructing their view.
The rest of us mortals had to yell and spray people walking constantly in front of our plastic chairs and blocking our view of the parade.
At this point, fighting as a crowd for our rights as chair owners became more fun than the festival itself. Our giant tent and all of its chair holders mobilized against the enemy and we grabbed the four tent posts and moved the tent all the way to the yellow line marking the performers area. It was epic!
Then came the military guys. Several batches of them
Followed by the Pirates
And then a strange mixture of pirates and military guys each carrying a battleship made of plastic and spray painted with gold
Next were the scary Monsters. Lots of them
Yuk!
Then the unattractive guys dressed as ladies. The locals were eating them and their silly acts up!
Finally rolled in the traditional dancers followed by trucks covered with plants and agricultural produce
And lots of men playing this traditional instrument
Then, a sudden change of rhythm – jungle dancers!
By then we were wiped out from the excitement, the heat, the yelling and the constant spraying around us.
It has taken more than 4 hrs for the Carnival to progress this far. I looked down the street to see an endless procession of all of the above acts waiting for their turn.
We headed home forgetting about the water balloons and being clueless about the folks hiding in their quiet houses with buckets of water next to open windows. Imagine yourself walking on a dead street and suddenly an icy waterfall showers you from above, followed by a jolly laughter- not yours:( But the Most Worstest of all were those clever folks hidden in dark garages, waiting with a hose connected to a sink. Pure hell! We were lucky to have one of those stationed right across the entrance of our house and for four days we couldn’t enter or leave without getting wet.
Through the craziness of it all the kids had a BLAST! For the first time in their lives they had a green light on abusing grown ups with foam, water, balloon bombs, just name it.
The party continued for 4 days straight. By the end most were drunk. The water war was taken with full force on every street. Pick up trucks with open carriages full of people and GIANT water containers would trap pedestrians and soak them. Water balloons would fly in all directions, food orgies would spill from houses and our family would cruise the streets as if we were training for guerrilla fighters – run and duck, peak in, then venture again, take a shelter behind a tree, run again.
My sweet friend Megan reassured me that we have gotten off the hook easy and that Tarija was the city with the mildest water crimes against humanity during festival time. ‘Other places are much worse’, she reassured me.
Amd I believe her.
~M
Have you experienced a Latin Carnival? If so, I am dying to know if got watered as much as we did!
