Carnival,
the Mardi Gras of Mazatlan
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The 117th annual
Carnaval! This year the theme is Los Suenos del Rey Momo—the Dreams of the
King. Momo—a mythological Greek god who
wore masks of satire, mockery, and censure, the god of writers and poets.
Carnival in Mazatlan, similar to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, a
riotous round of celebration and merry-making with abandon, which screeches to
an abrupt stop on Tuesday night. Ash Wednesday ushers in Lent, the forty day
period of penitence and fasting in somber preparation for the joys of Easter.
Parties, parades, fireworks, dancing and songfests, a unique blending of
traditional, religious and modern festivities. Smaller family events juxtapose
with crushing crowds along the Malecon, the ten kilometer walkway along the
waterfront. One may partake in official community fiestas, rub elbows with
kings and queens. Feast on gourmet food. Watch a naval battle fought with
fireworks. Burn the Bad Humour in
effigy. Always, for everything, there is music.
Jostling passengers, many in
costume, crowd onto the buses, striving to get from here to there, to be part
of the fun. Streets fill with a melee of cars, transport vehicles and eager people
afoot, hustling in every direction to participate in as many activities as possible.
Me? I’m still housebound in recovery
from surgery. But I see a lot from my doorway, from my window to the world. And
I rely upon those who venture out. Friends and neighbors drop in daily to
regale me tales of their own activities and mishaps.
This year is rare and unique in that
Carnival embraces Valentine’s Day.
Saturday night, Valentine’s Day,
every table and barstool in the restaurants along Sabalo Cameron and adjacent
streets, were reserved and filled. I got this straight from the horse’s mouth.
My neighbor Ted, who waited until the last minute, had to trudge both sides of
the street to find a place to take his girlfriend, Theresa, to celebrate with
dinner and dancing.
Across the street from my casita, a
wedding party, one couple of hundreds eager to tie the knot of matrimony on the
Day of Love in Mazatlan, had booked the Spectaculare. All day I watched trucks unload
food, drinks, ice, pastries, flowers, decorations and band equipment. While
beautifully dressed men and women entered through the front door, young band
members gathered around the back steps warming up, tuning instruments,
practicing bits and pieces of numbers for the night.
Promptly at nine o’clock, stragglers
streamed into the building and wedding festivities began. I went to sleep. At two-thirty
I jerked awake to shouts, laughter, music of the party after the party, as
young people continued to celebrate in the extra-wide street. Loudly. With
great vim and vigor, for two hours, they celebrated. Nobody came and stopped
them. No neighbors protested. No police slowed to check them out. Such street
parties are a normal part of Mazatlan life. As suddenly as it began, promptly
at four-thirty, seemingly for no reason, somebody turned off the noise faucet, the
young men and women scooted into cars, and drove away. Instant quiet. I fell
asleep.
Next year, ah, next year, I have a
plan. I vow to join the festivities of Carnival. I cannot think of one more
body part that needs to be replaced, with the possible exception of my brain. After
years of acquaintance, I’m quite comfortable with my quirky brain. I think I’ll
keep it!
My plan: I shall rent a hotel room across the street from the
Malecon, preferably in front of one of the three-story high statues depicting a
figure based on the Carnival theme. From
my balcony perch above the action, without being jostled by the crowds, I shall
watch the parades. At street level, bands will continuously play on one of the numerous
stages.
In the rare moments when not so much is happening, I’ll enjoy
the sweep of the bay, watch the ferry sail into harbor from La Paz. Perhaps
I’ll see a floating city, one of the cruise ships, alight like a Christmas tree
in the distance. I shall enjoy every moment of the raucous crowds with noise
the entire night. I’ll brew another pot of coffee. Who needs sleep! I’ll dress
in finery, flounces of feathers, ribbons and bows. When the Malecon is crowded
I shall wave and bow, as if I am somebody.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
February 19,
2015
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment