¡Ponchillos, ponchillos! On every street corner, someone was selling plastic rain ponchos. Yes, technically it is still the rainy season, but it did not rain a drop the entire week of Carnaval. Yet the ponchos were essential. Why? Carnaval in Bolivia not only means ornate costumes worn by dancers from a variety of Bolivian traditions, it means war.
This is a photo of Nicole dressed to leave the hostel.
Notice her poncho, sunglasses, and super-soaker 500. She is prepared to be hit with water balloons, sprayed with water pistols, and foamed in the face, by children and adults alike. Even if one dressed defensively like this, there was no guarantee of dryness. People were ruthless in their attacks, and were not above breaking waterballoons down the backs of other people’s shirts, or spraying foam in the mouth of someone trying to eat a bite of food. The only real way to survive was to join in.
Other than constantly being on the defensive for three days, and having my money stolen after being foamed in the face, Carnival in Ururu was great. First of all, we met some really interesting travelers to watch the parade with. Secondly, the parade itself was a neat cultural experience. The dancing and costumes told a lot about the history and current culture of Bolivia.
