Upon originally planning this trip to Colombia, it never crossed my mind that I would be here during Carnaval. But when I found out that the hometown of Shakira, puts on the second biggest celebration each year, just behind Rio in Brazil, I set my sights on Barranquilla for an undoubtedly good time.
Each stop up until the big show usually contained a similar conversation with some locals. They look at you like you are freshly ripened fruit freshly plucked from the loony tree, tell you its going to be out of control and dangerous, and wish you the best of luck. After multiple warnings from Colombians, I began to question how gnarly this festival was really going to be if even local people were wary of it. Was it really a good idea to go? I decided that, like with all travel, as long as I stayed smart, sensible, and grew a mustache, things would be golden.
People from all over the country, converged on Barranquilla for the four day shenaniganfest and few were disappointed. The entire city is decked out in festive bright colors and decorations. Businesses close their doors, hotels jack up their prices, and everyone packs the street for a continuous party that doesn't know how to quit.
Around mid day, each day, a 5 hour parade marches down one of the main streets, making it the epicenter of the party. Thousands gather to watch the elegant floats, crazy dresses, beautiful women, and overall awesomeness that ensues. Seriously, these parades are the wildest thing you've ever seen. So many elaborate costumes and floats that probably take all year to design and create. Tons of fantastic music just had the masses dancing in the streets like there was no tomorrow. And there wasn't. The days blend together as sleep takes a back seat to the nonstop party.
Things get messy too. People are constantly spraying foam and throwing flour in your face. Add all the drinks that get spilled all over, and you are one powdery, sticky mess before the sun even goes down. Can't do much but embrace the disaster that your clothes evolve into and go on loving every bit of the crowded madness.
So you watch these parades, you dance constantly, you get bombarded by nonlethal substances, and you it't kind of the best thing ever. Except for all the pickpocketers. I didn't get anything stolen, but you are constantly batting people's hands away from your pockets. I'm not sure why I even bothered. I was smart enough to not even have anything in my pockets. I suppose it was just because I wasn't fond of uninvited people being in my pants.
One of the last days of Carnaval, we positioned ourselves at the very end of the parade route. And I mean the very end. We were actually hanging out in an area where the parade was officially over and it was just all the people that were in it milling about, looking like they had just danced for 5 hours in high heels. But that was because many of them had. It was interesting to see this side of things and get a better understanding of the toll those parades take on the participants. Plus a few secrets were unveiled in the process.
So, all those crazy fine ladies on display during the parade that everyone is checking out are not actually what they seem. The depressing truth was that most either had too many years, too few years, or too much penis. Seriously, it was unsettling how many were revealed to be really old, way too young, or a man once the performance was over. They had so many of us fooled.
Overall, Carnaval was one crazy event infused with music, dancing, and a livelihood that only Colombia could conjure. I've never been a part of, or seen, anything else like it. The energy created by all those people in the streets, doing nothing but loving and embracing life was very symbolic of Colombians in general. Their zest and passion for living is contagious and I love them for it.
Thanks for the good times, Barranquilla!
Next up, a story about a cave. And bats. And spiders. And water. And Awesome.
Lovsies!
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