Additionally, I have found that Bolivia has adopted some of our traditional "Western" holidays and stacked them atop similar holidays they already celebrate. Valentine's Day, for example, is not a traditionally-recognized South American celebration. However, my friends and peers were certainly aware of the romantically-charged occasion, and I found myself invited to two separate V-Day excursions (one for all the single ladies - point: Beyonce - and one less gender-specific); as in America, it is common for the young folk of Bolivia to put together 'single and ready to mingle' parties, and on February 12th I witnessed a girlfriend receiving a dozen roses from her beloved novio. However, Bolivia also acknowledges an event called Día de le amistad, which roughly translates to "Friendship Day" and is rather similar to our North American celebration of Valentine's Day. Día de le amistad, is observed in July and is a day for friends to share gifts and enjoy dinners; it is also an occasion for couples to practice their PDA skills.
BUT, that's not enough for Cochabamba. In late January and early February, teens and twenty-somethings pay tribute to their bromances and bff's by taking part in Compadre and Comadres celebrations: quite literal in their meanings, the first is a day for men to go out with their buddies while the second is an excuse for young women to let loose and party together. Set a week apart on consecutive Jueves (Thursdays), Compadre y Comadres are intended to allow friends time to honor their close ties and share drinks, dancing and laughter with one another. Incidentally, although Compadre is declared as a holiday for men, it is not uncommon to see girlfriends and female friends out celebrating as well; in direct opposition, there are Comadres parties held around the city, from which all males (excepting the band and the strippers - yes, I said strippers) are unequivocally banned. However, one of my Cochabambino friends explained that this gender-neutral compadre phenomenon is restricted solely to the city of Cochabamba; in all other Bolivian cities - especially La Paz - male and female celebrations are cherished and strictly enforced.
The aforementioned holidays are all secular and are therefore not government-sanctioned celebrations; but over the years they have evolved into unofficial festivities within the Cochabamba city limits. Several other fetes include Viernes Santo (Good Friday), Corpus Christi (sorry, it's the same in both languages), Todos Santos (All Saint's Day) and día de Navidad (Christmas Day). Each one of these holidays has earned itself "state recognition" (i.e. no school or work) and all are bolstered by strong religious support and precedent.
This brings us to perhaps the most anticipated holiday season of the Bolivian year: Carnaval. As one of my cousins recently pointed out, Carnaval has its roots firmly planted in religious doctrine. Deeply Catholic in its origin, Carnaval is observed in the weeks and days leading up to Lent. Although its etymology remains a debate among scholars, it is generally acknowledged that Carnaval derives its significance from the Spanish and Portuguese word carne, meaning 'meat'. This ties in nicely with the notion of Carnaval as a Catholic fete, as meat is conventionally forbidden during the observation of Lent. The parades and parties the occur during Carnaval allow communities to bond over excessive eating and, inevitably, drinking and dancing. Celebrated in various forms on nearly every inhabited continent across the globe, Carnaval ceremonies have historically paid homage to the locally worshipped gods and their beliefs. Americans will be familiar with New Orleans' annual Mardi Gras parade, the French Catholic adaptation of its Latin American neighbor. Just as we see theatrical demonstrations of dance, color and costume in the NOLA spectacle, Carnaval parades around the world are filled with masquerading performers, boisterous music and exaggerated displays of patriotism.
In Bolivia, the grandest and most famous (perhaps infamous) Carnaval takes place in Oruro and is enjoyed by locals and foreigners alike. Visitors flock to Oruro to experience the dizzying nature of Bolivia's Carnaval, so should you ever find yourself in Bolivia in February, be sure to attend the Oruro celebration or one of its smaller counterparts. Renowned for its hyperbolically sacred rituals and denounced for its nefarious reputation for over-consumption of alcohol and hooligan-styled antics, Carnaval has rightfully earned its place in the contemporary custom of Bolivian society. Anyone who has attended the Carnaval in Oruro will testify that it lives up to the hype, and those of us who failed to make an appearance hang our heads in shame when asked how we enjoyed the Carnaval experience. However, those who do participate in Oruro's celebration will experience La Diablada, or the Devil's Dance, followed by a sea of demons, angels, virgins, Incas and conquistadores. Several classic tales are then acted out, including a tribute to Virgen de Socavon (the patron saint of miners) and the Archangel Michael's duel with the devil. Collectively these demonstrations represent the ongoing trial we face between good and evil, and ultimately the Carnval is intended to honor Pachamama - the ancient Catholic incarnation of mother earth.
Unable to make it to the Oruro celebrations myself, I opted for the day-long corso held in Cochabamba. Taking place a week after the festival in Oruro, Cochabamba's parade is preceded and followed by days of well-meaning mischief. Although now illegal, the most common practice of Carnaval tradition in Cochabamba is that of the city-wide water fight. Hundreds of children, young adults and even families spend the weekend days of February driving through Cochabamba in search of people to target with globos (water balloons). Mobs of incensed youth line the streets, lying in wait to soak passerby, passengers in cars and rival groups stationed on opposite sides of the road. In addition to globos, troublemakers carry water guns and attack unsuspecting citizens with cans of sticky spray foam. As I was told by a local preacher, "If you dare to enter the streets of Cochabamba during Carnaval, expect to get very, very wet." Warned but not wearied, I packed my purse with a change of clothes and braved the globo-filled avenues.
Aside from the water balloon wars, the main event of Carnaval in Cochabamba is the corso (parade), which spans an entire Saturday and is something of a mini-Carnaval. Throughout the day, hundreds of traditionally-attired dancers boogie down the main streets of town, pandering to the crowd and blowing besos to people in the stands. Three ancestral dances, Tinku, Caporales and Morenada, are observed, and attendees slip under the barriers to dance alongside the corso participants and have their photos taken with the dancers. Unlike in Oruro where mayhem reigns supreme, corso in Cochabamba is accompanied by heavy security and harshly-enforced restrictions. Globos, alcohol and incorporating animals skins and furs into costumes are all prohibited. Still, the crowds maintain a rowdy disposition even as the parade endures well into the darkness of evening.
As the title of this post suggests, I spent the day holding out for an elusive oso sighting. In Oruro, it is common for certain performers to dress up as bears and show off for the crowd. Armed with the power of overwhelming peer pressure and fueled by cerveza and chicha (a local beer made from grain), onlookers will routinely chant the word "Oso! Oso! Oso!" as the carnivore-clad clowns pass by. When this happens, the dancer is expected to reciprocate the gesture by rubbing his giant bear stomach, much to the pleasure of the drunken mob. Alas, my wish for an oso was not granted. I heard tell of oso appearances much later in the evening, sometime around 8.30 or 9; however, having arrived at the corso at 11.30 in the morning, our group was fairly drained by 7 o'clock. I suppose the moral of the story is to never give up on your dreams, especially when dancing osos are at stake.
And so, Oruro and the oso will just have to wait another year. Let's just look at it as a great excuse to come back and visit my Bolivian friends in February 2014.
¡Salud!
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