Note to Bolivia

Oruro turns it on

What a time of year to be living in Bolivia. Carnival.  It is definitely the season to be here.  We’re lucky to have been stopped during this season because passing through or travelling around just wouldn’t let you fully comprehend the spirit of carnival and what it means to the people here. Oruro was one weekend of this month-long celebration and boy did it get my heart going.

Anyone else wet?

Vamos, vamos!

The thrill of 50 men – 50 macho Bolivian men wearing bright colours, sequins, feathers and embroidery, dancing down the street in unison whilst water balloons blur my vision was exciting to say the least. Couple this with the battle to maintain ownership of your foot space on the bleachers, the threat of an exhausted gringo collapsing from too much fun and perhaps a local throwing up on you from too much Pacena. It’s still exciting.

The only way to get to our seats, under the bleachers...ew

I couldn’t help but notice how similar the ladies costumes in the parade were to Irish dancing dresses. I kid you not that you could possibly wear one of these at the Worlds. They are short, puffy, bright, sparkly, intricate, embroidered and have long sleeves. Take the hat off, replace the plait wigs with a curly wig and tiara and you’ve got yourself a competition-ready Irish dancer (just without the fake tan and sock glue).

I see an untapped opportunity for Bolivia here. Irish dancing dresses cost  from $NZ1500 up (and up and up). Surely these costumes would not cost anywhere near that to make in Bolivia (Bevan did just get a hair cut for $NZ 1.10). A Bolivian could make a mint…although would you want to knowing Irish dancing mothers?

For the last two weeks water fights have been going on throughout Bolivia in the lead up to Carnival.   Stalls have popped up everywhere selling pre-made balloons, water pistols and any other device that could get someone wet.  The lines of battle are simply drawn by gender.  Girls throw at boys, boys throw at girls; ladies throw at men, men throw at ladies.

Balloon anyone?

There is a second battle of course…gringos.  I think getting a gringo wet gives you bonus street cred in this part of the world.   Here in Cochabamba they are incredibly covert in their gringo-hitting-missions.  I have literally been hit on a deserted street and have no idea where the balloon came from.  It’s always a shock being hit but I’m committed to remaining humourous about it (even when one felt like it had winded me on my back, Bevan told me you can’t get winded from behind – I don’t believe him).  

Got me!

Sunday’s in Bolivia are usually pretty quiet and me and Beavs were quietly walking the streets when an open top army truck full of kids drove past.  One of them spotted us and then literally 20 kids’ hands were lifted to reveal colourful balloons.  These were of course hurled at us.  They got us good.  And they thought it was hilarious.  It was hilarious.

But we are told this is just the warm up…this weekend is the major celebration for Carnival.  Oruro hosts the biggest celebration and luckily we’ve managed to hook up a bus and some seats for the parade leaving on Friday for a couple of nights. Oruro here we come…please be kind!