Carnival!

Carnival in Mexico is days of celebration before Lent begins. And it happens everywhere. As far as I can tell, Carnival embodies all things bright, sparkly, family-inclusive, and loud. 

The past chunk of days we have been weaving our way from Izamal, through Santa Elena, Hopulchén, to the grand colonial city of Campeche. And most of these towns have had stirrings of Carnival (a troupe of children rehearsing exuberantly for a dance performance at night in the park in Izamal, for example) and last night in Campeche we witnessed the full-on grandeur of the celebration. 

In Hopulchén a couple nights ago, we followed a train of glittery and fake-eyelashedy children being led by guiding parents to an outdoor stage. Rows of wooden chairs were set up and families crowded onto them. Snacks were sold and consumed, street dogs milled about, and there was an air of feather-boa expectancy. We joined the throng, two gringas in this small town community experience, totally out of place, like if in the USA two horses walked into a movie theatre and sat down among everyone. 

We had no idea when the dance performance would start, and we sat for an hour and twenty minutes while lights swirled around, music played, and screens displayed reggaeton music videos. It seemed like any minute something would happen, but it was lots of those minutes till something did. Latino time! Love it. Slow down, priorities are about other things than timeliness around here. Priorities like making sure your daughter has her hair bow straight and that grandma has a good seat in her wheelchair. And unlike kids in the USA who can't seem to sit still and wait, the kids in this Mexican audience sat placidly next to their parents without whining or wiggling. 

Finally when the performance commenced, little children as kings and queens slowly paraded up and down the stage, crowns were produced, and then group after group of fancifully dressed little dancers emerged. Their costumes were amazingly intricate, neon colors, sequins, and feathers, and the dancing was delightfully uncoordinated and unpolished. All these beloved children and their proud parents. 

The crowds at the children's parade in Campeche

In Campeche yesterday afternoon, there was the Carnival children's parade. Hundreds of themed groups of children were dressed matching, led along by a shepherding adult. Groups of little jaguars in face paint and spotted costumes. Native Indians with headdresses.

These children seem like adult play things almost, all dressed up and kept in a semblance of formation by their shepherd. Six little ones straddled tiny horses, attached to poles up their middles, and above them suspended a tent: a mobile merry-go-round, somehow kept in configuration. A tiny orchestra with 6-year olds holding pretend instruments, pulled on a float. Farmers in white pants and hats. Gorillas. Pirates. Gas pumps and cars (seriously). 

These little people moved along the parade route, stared at and adored by the crowd, in various stages of bewilderment/boredom/excitement/obligation/nose picking. 

Gas station and cars configuration

Why have just a fountain when you can have it brightly lit and coordinated to the beat of music. This show played enticingly in a park inside the walled city of Campeche.

We have been doing well Following The Crowds. And last night we followed them, in addition to the blasting breadcrumbs of loud music coming from across Campeche. Maluma, a huge name Colombian musical heart-throb, was giving an extraordinarily glammy and pounding reggaeton concert. 

Jen and I joined the Outside The Fence crowd, and stood for free in a Home Depot parking lot and took in the scene. The music was so incredibly loud that even in the parking lot, 300-400 meters away, I could feel the pulse of subwoofer in my chest. The lights from the show shot out from the stadium and swirled in the night sky, as if we were in a computer-generated simulation. I could see Maluma's perfectly structured face expanded on one of the many screens, a lock of hair falling sexily just-so as he sang a love song. Oooers. The crowd screamed--not just yelling and clapping but unbridled screaming--and the smell of spicy tacos wafted through the parking lot. 

What an experience. Not listed in a tour book. No postcard could encapsulate. Even though I'm a hipless white person, I've danced happily and awkwardly to enough Latino music that even *I* recognized some of Maluma's songs. It was pretty ecstatic to witness this live. 

The Home Depot parking lot outside the stadium