There’s a famous quote that goes, ‘The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.’ I think the same could be said about Bolivia, as well. On the bus trip to Carnaval in Oruro, we experienced snow yet officially it is summer here. When the bus stopped for a break, I trudged through the snow; the wind was biting and my feet were cold and damp. With Oruro’s reputation for being cold, I thought the unfavourable weather was an indicator of the day ahead. But at 10am, when the bus arrived in Oruro, we were greeted to a clear sky and t-shirt weather.
For Carnaval, I went with a tour group for the day to Oruro. The main attraction is a parade of dancers making their way along a designated route through the city. The parade had already started when we arrived at the grandstands along one of the main streets. As we made our way to our seats it was somewhat like entering a colosseum. The stands were full, the noise was loud and in the middle of it all were the dancers.
The stands were nothing but simple boards with numbers painted on them to indicate seats. My seat was a few rows back from the front, high above, with a good view of the proceedings below. It was a cosy fit. I had someone sitting in between my legs and had someone else’s knees sticking in to my back, as well as being squashed either side by two people I’d never met before. Seat 56 was to be my home for the next 12 hours. Welcome to Carnaval.
There were a lot of people in the stands all in good spirits. Apart from watching the parade, the main activity was spraying a shaving cream type foam on anyone and everyone. Vendors selling this foam, as well as those selling plastic ponchos for protection, made a roaring trade.
The dancers came past, one group after the other, in super elaborate costumes with marching bands periodically following behind providing the music. The women looked particularly beautiful and despite the city’s reputation for cold weather there was a lot of naked flesh on show. The women danced with great pride in their appearance in a manner that demanded attention.
The Carnaval tells the story of how the Spanish conquered the Andean population. Dancers wear costumes representing the different major players involved, such as the Spanish conquerors, catholic priests, slaves, Incas and more. But I didn’t know any of that and after three hours, the parade was a bit monotonous so I decided to go exploring.
In the neighbouring streets around the parade were stalls selling food, souvenirs and the normal malarkey you’d find at a market. I took this opportunity to get a haircut. At 15Bs, how could I not? It costs ten times that back on my planet. Surprisingly, I wasn’t alone. There were quite a few people in the barber shop and I had to wait awhile before it was my turn. Not that I missed much of the parade as it was being shown live on TV in the barber’s.
Back on the streets and it was warfare and the weapons of choice were water pistols and cans of foam. Teenage girls had it the worst as groups of boys singled them out and simply just pounded them, often spraying them in the face from less than a metre away. I managed to get away relatively dry until some teenage lads singled me out and sprayed me in the face. I took it in the good humour in which it was designed until later I realised they had stolen my camera. Now I wait anxiously to see if my embarrassing nude photos appear in the tabloids or on the internet. hahha nah, just kidding. On my way back to the stands I struck gold; I found a clean toilet inside of a café. The chemical toilets in the streets were nasty.
As it started to get dark, the parade came alive. The streets were lit up and so too were the costumes. The already colourful costumes now had shiny lights, mirrors and jewels to add to the spectacle. The most exciting groups were the Diablos (devils), who wore scary looking devil costumes in the belief that they would scare away evil spirits. The women looked stunning and had gone to a lot of trouble to look gorgeous only to wear an ugly devil’s mask.
Some of the Diablos were able to shoot fire out from the top of their masks much to the thrill of the crowd chanting, ‘fuego, fuego’ (fire). My favourite, though, were the bears - similar to Teletubbies, and lit up like Christmas trees. I should point out they were people dressed as bears not the real thing. I joined in on the chant, ‘awesome, awesome’, as they waddled through the streets. It was only a few days later that I realised the Spanish word for bear is oso, and that, perhaps, that was what the crowd were chanting.
In between groups of dancers, there were fireworks displays or people invaded the street with instruments for impromptu parties. Earlier in the day the police had been quite strict about keeping people off the street but in the evening there weren’t any police and the drunken crowd moved freely around the dancers, joining in or taking photos. In the stands, we were doing a dance of our own – standing to stretch our legs and to relieve our sore bums, then sitting again when we grew tired of standing.
At 11pm our group called it a night and boarded the bus back to Cochabamba having truly enjoyed Carnaval – Oruro style. And to make the experience truly Bolivian we were held up for four hours on the way back to Cochabamba by a road block. But as they say here, ´vale la pena’(worth the pain). Despite the snow, the monotony at times, the stolen camera and the sore butt it was definitely worth the pain.
