Once again, I am ridiculous. It has been far too long since my last blog. Part of my problem, this time around, is general lack of funding. I’ve had to become much more creative this semester in finding economical activities! My parents even visited for a week. I thought, jackpot! Free meals! But somehow I finished their visit poorer than before. It’s OK if I think about it in romantic terms: a poor student in the Yucatan, studying poetry and living in nature…
That image is quite a contrast compared to the recent Carnaval festivities of which I recently took part. Free, a state-sponsored party, traditional–I had very high hopes for Carnaval, and I had a wonderful time, but it was unlike anything I would have expected.
It started on a Thursday, with a children’s parade; the babies and toddlers of Merida dressed up as bunnies, spiderman, princesses, anything, all through downtown. Friday night began the official parade. Based on episodes of the Simpson’s and the movie Rio, I expected feathers, dancing, drums. That there was. But every float had a corporate sponsor, and the dancer’s gave out samples of cookies or Coca-Cola cups. The king of one parade tried to begin a crowd-wide chant of “Burger King! Burger King! Burger King!” In all fairness I will note that it didn’t take. And despite the commercialism it was a great time! Dancing for two solid hours cheering on the old ladies, the young dancing troupes and the clowns. OK, we had to spend money to get a good spot, but we made up for it in swag. And it was very civilized.
Saturday, some of my friends and I traveled to Celestun, a small town on the coast know for its lagoon densely populated by flamingos. That night, we saw small-town carnaval. A little like Georgetown Day, but with more Moon Bounces and rides, and less drinking. It was lovely, apart from being barred from a two story trampoline because “big people aren’t allowed.
Tuesday was the final day of Carnaval. Everyone told me not to go– “Puro borracho, puro desmadre,” they told me. I didn’t listen! “I have to see what it’s like!!” “No lo hagas,” they told me. “Me voy” I said, dumbly. As we walked nearer to Paseo Montejo, the street that hosted the strongest of the final Carnaval celebrations, we began to hear the music. “We’re getting close to hell, are you sure you want to continue?” “It’s not too late!” “I can hear it now.” I didn’t listen. We round a corner. a series of cops carrying men so inebriated they can’t walk pass us by. We were close. Around the next corner, a band of adolescent gangsteritos posturing. Even closer. One more corner, and we had arrived. Imagine all the craziest concerts you’ve ever been too, on the same street, on one of the few days that public drinking is legal. All of my senses were accosted, and it’s not as if the music was any good–they may as well have been chanting “Burger King! Burger King! Burger King!” I had beer sprayed on me, and was elbowed with every step. Heck, I elbowed with every step. I got through one throng covered in mysterious brown goo. I saw a child, God save her! At one point, I just turned around and ordered, “Get me out of here!”near tears. After a half an hour, I bought a slushie and thankfully walked back home.
So, my conclusion after my first Carnaval: Cultural? To a point. Family-friendly? Some days. Fun? Every day except Tuesday. Much more than feathers and glitter, and much more business involved. All I can say is that when I learned some cities in Brazil had designated a special space for Carnaval to take it out of the streets, I didn’t think that it was subverting the culture. Instead, I simply said: “Que bueno.”
