A (not so brief) pause (for which I apologize) and now CARNAVAL

I'm sorry. I know that keeping a blog is a lot of work and I'm just falling down on the job. I've been incredibly busy. I don't even have time to blog right now!

I know you're all waiting on the edge of your seats for parts 2 and 3 of my travels but you'll just have to hang on a little longer. This post is about Carnaval in Oruro. (Then, I promise, I'll get back to those travel stories.)

Carnaval is pretty much the biggest party in Latin America. The most famous carnaval takes place every year in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The second most famous takes place in Oruro, a small mining town in the Altiplano of Bolivia. So, naturally, I had to go. 

I left Friday with a very wise group of friends who decided to avoid the chaos and overpriced tickets of the La Paz bus terminal as 98% of La Paz tries to get a bus to Oruro. Instead, we took a taxi to El Alto and found ourselves a minibus driver looking for passengers for Oruro. It was perfect; a six-seater van for the six of us. We waited for our whole group to arrive and then started off. 

"Wait," said Gustavo from inside the van as we pulled away from the bus terminal. "We're leaving now? I don't have my things." None of the rest of us understood why exactly he had come to bus terminal without his backpack or clothes and got in the van with us or what he was expecting to happen. But he decided to keep going anyway. 

The bus ride was lovely. One of the girls had brought a guitar and we were serenaded as we bounced through the altiplano. The national brewery of Bolivia also gave us a great CD at the checkpoint leaving La Paz with 10 very popular (mostly reggaeton) songs and cool advice about not drinking and driving. After the guitar playing ceased we listened to the CD 5 times all the way through. 

Side note about the road to Oruro: It has been under construction for over 3 years. What should be a 3 hour ride takes around 4.5 or 5 hours because you have to weave back and forth around the construction zones, jumping from one road to the other and back again. 

Finally we arrived in Oruro. The city welcomes visitors with a huge statue of a mining helmet. It was late and dark and buses were entering the city from all over as the travelers flooded the city. When it is not Carnaval, Oruro is very empty and quiet. But for 3 days every year, it is filled with people and beer. Lots and lots of beer. (The people are also filled with beer.) 

I met up with my friends in the terminal (One guy was already so far beyond drunk; on the way to our lodging he fell in a cactus. This was the first time I met him and I spent a few minutes pulling spines out of his butt.) We went to my friend's house to drop off our stuff and then went to the main plaza to explore, buy our seats for the parade, and eat some food. 

This is where I lost my cell phone (it was a pickpocketer), ate some pretty narsty pizza that made me feel sick the rest of the night (it was the only vegetarian thing I could find in all of Oruro), and got yelled at by a vendor when I couldn't decide what kind of chocolate would make me feel better.

But really, it was a pretty insane sight. Thousands of people crowding in through entrances and exits that were horribly controlled, pushed up against each other, shouting; fireworks, alcohol everywhere (I keep going back to this but it's really one of the main characters in the Carnaval story), costumes, and foam. 

ESPUMA (or foam)

One of the main aspects of Carnaval is getting wet. Children with water guns patrol the streets. Chances are, no matter what you do, you're going to get wet. Since water shortages became a known problem in Bolivia, they put strict regulations on the Carnaval water celebrations. Now, children use espuma, or foam, that comes in spray bottles and smells horrible and makes your hair feel like straw. You can't walk down the street without getting sprayed. And foreigners are definitely targets. Espuma. Everywhere. 

The forces. Waiting. 

The next morning after a lovely breakfast of Api (a Bolivian sweet corn drink look it up it's purple), we headed to our gradería. This is a word I know in Spanish and don't know in English. Maybe it means grandstand. Or bleachers. We had paid 200 Bs. each the night before for these seats and their view of the parade. That's pretty cheap compared to seats in the main plaza. Anyway, the only way in and out of the seats was a precarious ladder placed behind them. I'm not sure what people with small children, old people, or very drunk people did. But somehow we made it. Then we watched the parade. And had some beer.

Our ladder.

There are number of Bolivian dances that are performed in these parades. Morenada, Diablada, Tinku, and Caporal are just a few. Hundreds of people march through the streets in amazing elaborate costumes, dancing for hours through the city. It's beautiful. 

Meanwhile, below the gradería, vendors walk by selling everything from ice cream to chorizo to candy to empanadas to beer and rum and other liquors. They pass the food up, you pass the money down. You never even have to leave your seat! And all the while, everything periodically gets covered with foam.

The only kind of beer they sell is Paceña. Paceña is the true winner of Carnaval.

The most fun that I had was at night when we climbed down and started dancing with the dancers. They are also drunk and also partying and having fun. They came over to the side and danced with us, gave us their hats, and were all around awesome. And trust me, there's nothing better for your self esteem than a huge drunk dancing Bolivian bear grabbing your face with both his paws and telling you that you are beautiful.

This went on for two days. I, however, had to sleep. I did not stay all night either night. I am immensely impressed by all who did. Carnaval is crazy. There are people who are drunk the entire time, partying in the streets, in discotecas, all over the city. I'm not the kind of person who thrives on alcohol and all night partying. I get sleepy and cranky and don't want any more beer. I found myself comparing Carnaval to Las Vegas. (Important note: Carnaval in Oruro is absolutely nothing like Las Vegas.) It doesn't feel like a real place, it's kind of a no-man's land where anything goes for a while and then people go home. It's really an experience. 

My friend Gris with a Diablo

I want to go back next year. And I want to dance. I want to dance Caporales. Men who dance Caporales are supposed to be pretty sexy. (Not gonna lie, my friends and I got pretty excited when the Caporales came by and rushed down to the street to dance with them.) The dance is really active and jumpy and cool. The women mostly just shake their butts. So I want to dance the men's Caporales dance with a line of women, called machas. Next year, folks. 

And now on a more somber note. There was a tragedy at Carnaval. One of the paserelas, or the passages over the parade, collapsed. These pasarelas were very poorly constructed, it was clear they were unsafe. On Saturday, one of the pasarelas collapsed on the most well-known band and as of today, five people were killed and over 70 injured. For a few hours we didn't know if Carnaval would continue. The dancers and musicians walked down the streets playing funeral songs. But later in the night Carnaval did go on. It's very important to both the culture and the economy of Oruro and Bolivia and people come to Oruro from all over. They felt that they could not stop it. But it was a huge tragedy that was not mentioned in international news. So now you know. 

I am now off to the great Cochabamba. I will post more blog posts more frequently including parts 2 and 3 of my travels. Plus some other notes about my life here in Bolivia. Which will probably go on longer than initially planned. 

Hasta luego! I hope I can catch a bus!