Carnaval: Oruro and Arbieto - Part One
Carnaval in Bolivia was pretty different from what I'd imagined it would be. I've never been to a carnaval anywhere, so I suppose my assumptions were based on bits I'd heard about New Orleans Mardi Gras and Carnaval in Rio. I went to 3 separate celebrations and each was unique. I also survived over a month of constantly being hit by water balloons, a tradition that is fun for awhile but gets old quickly.
My first glimpses of carnaval dancers came at the beginning of February. My buddies and I were walking to a restaurant and saw a group of Caporales dancers from San Simon University dancing in the streets. Even though the group was just wearing jeans and t-shirts, I was immediately taken in by the high energy dance and flashy-jingly boots. I love the boots.
I live fairly close to the university and several high schools. I'm not sure if that's where they were practicing, but for several weeks I could hear bands playing carnaval songs over and over from my room. Word on the street is that Oruro bands are the best (I agree) and cost around $5000 (US) to rent one to perform with your dance group for Carnaval. Bands aren't the only expense either; dancers pay for their outfits which can be pricey.
On the 10th of February I got my first real taste of the different types of dances. I was sitting at home drinking tea and trying to ignore a hangover, when I heard a parade passing. I went to find it and a block away from my house was a sort of carnaval dress rehearsal, only most people only had half (or less) of their costumes on. I watched groups dancing Chaquerero, Caporales, Llamerada, Morenada and Tinku pass by.
The next week I headed to Oruro for Carnaval (after jumping across the Peruvian boarder to renew my visa), the biggest and most crowded parade in the country. Eighteen of us packed into two little rooms (with 4 beds) for three days of carnaval partying. Needless to say, sleeping was not a priority.
Saturday was the big parade day. And I'll write more about it when I have the energy to complain about excessive amounts of espuma (foam in a can) and water balloon wars.
Unfortunately, I didn't take any photos in Oruro and forgot to bring my camera to Arbieto. Below are some photos courtesy of my housemate Michelle, whose stellar analysis of pre-Carnaval Bolivia I've also included. My experience was pretty similar to hers, except the office party (I'm so glad no one cracked an egg on my head) and the fact that I can't seem to obey Rule #2 in Carnaval: Don't get mad. (Rule #1 is There are no rules). While I often ripped cans of foam out of small children's hands, emptied it onto their heads and then broke the top off in a fit of rage - everyone else in the country just seemed to accept that its Carnaval and became one with the foam and water.
ARBIETO
Last Friday I went to Arbieto, a pueblo about an hour outside Cochabamba, with a few friends who rent a house from a family from Arbieto. This carnaval celebration was drastically different from Oruro. In Arbieto, nearly all the women were wearing traditional Quechua outfits – a lacy shirt and a knee length pollera (skirt), while the men wore pants and a button down shirt. Some people wore clown or animal costumes but with none of the flash of Oruro.
In Arbieto we danced the Carnavalito over and over around the town plaza. This dance consists mostly of running, following-the-leader and dodging espuma, while occasionally meeting up with your partner to twirl around. The family we were partying with had a buffet of different chichas and we bought a case of beer. My favorite was the grapefruit chichi. Of course starchy foods (corn and potatoes) were plentiful.
As it got later, one of the sons invited a band (accordion, trumpet, & snare drum) to come over to their house and play. The band started up and for and hour straight the family sang cuplas (2 line rhymes) back and forth as we danced around the plaza. They sang mostly in Quechua – so I don’t have a clue what most of them were about – but from the giggles of the abuelitas I think a lot of them were about sex. This Bolivian-style rap is used to insult your neighbors in a good-natured way and consists of a 2 line rhyme, each of which is sung first by the singer and then repeated by the group.
From Michelle:
February in Bolivia = Carnaval.
It's a month-long water fight that ends in an amazing weekend of "parades." (The parenthesis are because that's such an inadequate word.) Here's a chronology of some highlights:
*Jan 2:* I receive a very serious warning from a friend who lived in Cochabamba last year: For the entire month of February everyone under the age of 15 spends every free second hurling water balloons at strangers and friends alike; females and gringos are the main targets.
*Jan 8:* I arrive in Cochabamba, dry.
*Jan 20:* The first water balloon is thrown at me; I stealthily duck it and feel very pleased with myself. But from now on, I look at everyone under 25 suspiciously and stare at people's hands as they pass-by.
*Jan 25:* I arrive at work wet, which people seem to think is pretty amusing.
*Jan 28:* While walking with a friend one night we spot a 12-year-old with a Super-Soaker. We manage to intimidate him with our piercing eyes and convincing grimaces, and he doesn't unleash on us. Seconds later, a bucket of water comes splashing down on my friend. We look up to see a 10-year-old girl on a 5th-floor balcony smiling down at us. Dry as a person not in Bolivia during Carnaval, I call up, 'Well Done!' (it warms me to see a girl and not just evil boys drenching strangers).
*Feb 1:* My housemates and I find some water balloons in our kitchen. We debate the appropriateness of participating in such debauchery – and decide defensive attacks are definitely permissible.
*Feb 2:* I arrive at work wet, again.
*Feb 6:* My friends motorcyclediarying through South America arrive in Cochabamba. Andy is a former collegiate water-polo star; Annie is always looking for trouble.
* Feb 8:* We inform an inquiring taxi-driver that we just look lazy and confused, but don't actually want a ride anywhere. He looks at us, grins, says 'Es Carnaval!' and squirts a tiny water-gun at us. *Feb 10:* We're ready. We fill 20 water balloons and walk towards a main plaza with rain jackets and heavy pockets. Along the way, a car passes and 2 balloons sail towards us. I see that it's a 6-year-old boy in the backseat but Andy doesn't; he hits his first (of several) children in the face. As we approach the plaza, we see balloons and squirt guns everywhere. A pick-up truck with 5 teenage boys in the back takes aim at us. I throw a few lame shots, and a few of the guys laugh at me. But then the light turns green and the truck starts to move as one of them is winding-up, causing him to fall out backwards onto the street – and it's my turn to laugh! Before we even step into the plaza, we're all out of balloons. Luckily kids here have figured out how to make February the most economically-profitable as well emotionally-satisfying month – for 1boliviano ($.12) you can buy 10-15 filled water balloons. One hour later when it starts to pour, each of us is 10B poorer and we take cover in a coffee shop before realizing that the owner had been mercilessly throwing balloons at us with his sons 20 minutes earlier.
And then it got serious…
*Feb 16-18:* Carnaval in Oruro!!! This is what it was all leading up to.
*Fri *– Our day basically consists solely of water fights in the main plaza. These are my favorite episodes: I test my lung capacity at 3,700m above-sea-level running in circles around the plaza, as I successfully out-run four boys; two gringo strangers provide a kid with a virtually endless supply of free water balloons, under the condition that at least 50% of them land on us; Annie (with her long, blonde hair and bright green jacket) is attacked by every boy in the plaza for a solid 15 minutes.
*Sat –* From 8am until 5am over 500 dance groups and bands parade through the city. Devils, bears, hot girls in short skirts, old women in short skirts, 100-person marching bands and men in huge metallic costumes take-over the city. It's absolutely incredible (look at my photos!), but doesn't distract people from their grave responsibility to hurl balloons and spray foam at each other. Everyone in the city wears a poncho to keep their clothes relatively dry – it doesn't work.
*Feb 19:* Back in Cochabamba, a middle-aged woman dumps a bucket of water on me from 3-feet away. All I can manage to get out as her arms swing towards me and I look into her unflinching eyes is, "Senora!" There's no sun and I'm sick.
*Feb 23:* Office party! Woah! The term "water fight" does not do justice to the dozens of buckets that each of us has dumped over our heads throughout the 3pm-12:30am festivity. The new people also had the joy of being "baptized:" an egg cracked over our heads, flour poured all over our wet bodies and orange hairspray applied generously to our noggins. The only thing that was able to momentarily distract people was the coa, which is a ceremony in honor of Mother Earth in which offerings such as coca leaves are burned. But starting around 6pm people got down to business: eating, dancing and drinking took center-stage. The night was an extremely effective team-builder!
My first glimpses of carnaval dancers came at the beginning of February. My buddies and I were walking to a restaurant and saw a group of Caporales dancers from San Simon University dancing in the streets. Even though the group was just wearing jeans and t-shirts, I was immediately taken in by the high energy dance and flashy-jingly boots. I love the boots. I live fairly close to the university and several high schools. I'm not sure if that's where they were practicing, but for several weeks I could hear bands playing carnaval songs over and over from my room. Word on the street is that Oruro bands are the best (I agree) and cost around $5000 (US) to rent one to perform with your dance group for Carnaval. Bands aren't the only expense either; dancers pay for their outfits which can be pricey.
On the 10th of February I got my first real taste of the different types of dances. I was sitting at home drinking tea and trying to ignore a hangover, when I heard a parade passing. I went to find it and a block away from my house was a sort of carnaval dress rehearsal, only most people only had half (or less) of their costumes on. I watched groups dancing Chaquerero, Caporales, Llamerada, Morenada and Tinku pass by.
The next week I headed to Oruro for Carnaval (after jumping across the Peruvian boarder to renew my visa), the biggest and most crowded parade in the country. Eighteen of us packed into two little rooms (with 4 beds) for three days of carnaval partying. Needless to say, sleeping was not a priority.
Saturday was the big parade day. And I'll write more about it when I have the energy to complain about excessive amounts of espuma (foam in a can) and water balloon wars.
Unfortunately, I didn't take any photos in Oruro and forgot to bring my camera to Arbieto. Below are some photos courtesy of my housemate Michelle, whose stellar analysis of pre-Carnaval Bolivia I've also included. My experience was pretty similar to hers, except the office party (I'm so glad no one cracked an egg on my head) and the fact that I can't seem to obey Rule #2 in Carnaval: Don't get mad. (Rule #1 is There are no rules). While I often ripped cans of foam out of small children's hands, emptied it onto their heads and then broke the top off in a fit of rage - everyone else in the country just seemed to accept that its Carnaval and became one with the foam and water.
ARBIETO
Last Friday I went to Arbieto, a pueblo about an hour outside Cochabamba, with a few friends who rent a house from a family from Arbieto. This carnaval celebration was drastically different from Oruro. In Arbieto, nearly all the women were wearing traditional Quechua outfits – a lacy shirt and a knee length pollera (skirt), while the men wore pants and a button down shirt. Some people wore clown or animal costumes but with none of the flash of Oruro.
In Arbieto we danced the Carnavalito over and over around the town plaza. This dance consists mostly of running, following-the-leader and dodging espuma, while occasionally meeting up with your partner to twirl around. The family we were partying with had a buffet of different chichas and we bought a case of beer. My favorite was the grapefruit chichi. Of course starchy foods (corn and potatoes) were plentiful.
As it got later, one of the sons invited a band (accordion, trumpet, & snare drum) to come over to their house and play. The band started up and for and hour straight the family sang cuplas (2 line rhymes) back and forth as we danced around the plaza. They sang mostly in Quechua – so I don’t have a clue what most of them were about – but from the giggles of the abuelitas I think a lot of them were about sex. This Bolivian-style rap is used to insult your neighbors in a good-natured way and consists of a 2 line rhyme, each of which is sung first by the singer and then repeated by the group.
From Michelle:
February in Bolivia = Carnaval.
It's a month-long water fight that ends in an amazing weekend of "parades." (The parenthesis are because that's such an inadequate word.) Here's a chronology of some highlights:
*Jan 2:* I receive a very serious warning from a friend who lived in Cochabamba last year: For the entire month of February everyone under the age of 15 spends every free second hurling water balloons at strangers and friends alike; females and gringos are the main targets.
*Jan 8:* I arrive in Cochabamba, dry.
*Jan 20:* The first water balloon is thrown at me; I stealthily duck it and feel very pleased with myself. But from now on, I look at everyone under 25 suspiciously and stare at people's hands as they pass-by.
*Jan 25:* I arrive at work wet, which people seem to think is pretty amusing.
*Jan 28:* While walking with a friend one night we spot a 12-year-old with a Super-Soaker. We manage to intimidate him with our piercing eyes and convincing grimaces, and he doesn't unleash on us. Seconds later, a bucket of water comes splashing down on my friend. We look up to see a 10-year-old girl on a 5th-floor balcony smiling down at us. Dry as a person not in Bolivia during Carnaval, I call up, 'Well Done!' (it warms me to see a girl and not just evil boys drenching strangers).
*Feb 1:* My housemates and I find some water balloons in our kitchen. We debate the appropriateness of participating in such debauchery – and decide defensive attacks are definitely permissible.
*Feb 2:* I arrive at work wet, again.
*Feb 6:* My friends motorcyclediarying through South America arrive in Cochabamba. Andy is a former collegiate water-polo star; Annie is always looking for trouble.
* Feb 8:* We inform an inquiring taxi-driver that we just look lazy and confused, but don't actually want a ride anywhere. He looks at us, grins, says 'Es Carnaval!' and squirts a tiny water-gun at us. *Feb 10:* We're ready. We fill 20 water balloons and walk towards a main plaza with rain jackets and heavy pockets. Along the way, a car passes and 2 balloons sail towards us. I see that it's a 6-year-old boy in the backseat but Andy doesn't; he hits his first (of several) children in the face. As we approach the plaza, we see balloons and squirt guns everywhere. A pick-up truck with 5 teenage boys in the back takes aim at us. I throw a few lame shots, and a few of the guys laugh at me. But then the light turns green and the truck starts to move as one of them is winding-up, causing him to fall out backwards onto the street – and it's my turn to laugh! Before we even step into the plaza, we're all out of balloons. Luckily kids here have figured out how to make February the most economically-profitable as well emotionally-satisfying month – for 1boliviano ($.12) you can buy 10-15 filled water balloons. One hour later when it starts to pour, each of us is 10B poorer and we take cover in a coffee shop before realizing that the owner had been mercilessly throwing balloons at us with his sons 20 minutes earlier.
And then it got serious…
*Feb 16-18:* Carnaval in Oruro!!! This is what it was all leading up to.
*Fri *– Our day basically consists solely of water fights in the main plaza. These are my favorite episodes: I test my lung capacity at 3,700m above-sea-level running in circles around the plaza, as I successfully out-run four boys; two gringo strangers provide a kid with a virtually endless supply of free water balloons, under the condition that at least 50% of them land on us; Annie (with her long, blonde hair and bright green jacket) is attacked by every boy in the plaza for a solid 15 minutes.
*Sat –* From 8am until 5am over 500 dance groups and bands parade through the city. Devils, bears, hot girls in short skirts, old women in short skirts, 100-person marching bands and men in huge metallic costumes take-over the city. It's absolutely incredible (look at my photos!), but doesn't distract people from their grave responsibility to hurl balloons and spray foam at each other. Everyone in the city wears a poncho to keep their clothes relatively dry – it doesn't work.
*Feb 19:* Back in Cochabamba, a middle-aged woman dumps a bucket of water on me from 3-feet away. All I can manage to get out as her arms swing towards me and I look into her unflinching eyes is, "Senora!" There's no sun and I'm sick.
*Feb 23:* Office party! Woah! The term "water fight" does not do justice to the dozens of buckets that each of us has dumped over our heads throughout the 3pm-12:30am festivity. The new people also had the joy of being "baptized:" an egg cracked over our heads, flour poured all over our wet bodies and orange hairspray applied generously to our noggins. The only thing that was able to momentarily distract people was the coa, which is a ceremony in honor of Mother Earth in which offerings such as coca leaves are burned. But starting around 6pm people got down to business: eating, dancing and drinking took center-stage. The night was an extremely effective team-builder!
posted by Emily @ 11:54 PM
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