Carnaval is Over



Little Princess

Carnaval is over. And the neighbors’ dogs have finally stopped shaking. But the city’s ears and our windows are still suffering aftershocks.

The eight music stages have been disassembled and the 20 foot speakers have disappeared (they’re probably being stored with medieval torture devices).  Drummers and sound technicians are gone.  Their families may actually be as happy to see them arrive as I am to see them leave. The blanket hawkers have folded their unsold inventory and they’re back on the mainland.  By now new blankets are hugging motel and rancho beds up and down the Baja Peninsula. 

When I walked the Malecon this morning, the street sweepers, probably the most underpaid and underappreciated workers in town, were removing mountains of Styrofoam cups, broken egg shells and confetti.  Although my goal on this post-Carnaval walk was to burn calories, I found myself sniffing for the odor of gorditas de nata.  I know that, like coffee, they smell better than they taste but that didn’t stop us from buying them – several times.  No matter how hard we vowed not to nibble, we always arrived home with an empty bag.  In an unscientific taste test, we tried to decide if we prefer them with cajeta (caramelized goat’s milk), condensed milk, or plain?  After repeated experiments, Alex and I agreed – plain.

Another thing that was plain was that this year’s parade was considerably more humble than in past years. Fewer floats.  More sparsely decorated.   Even the crowds were smaller. This Carnaval left me zing-less.



Ginger, Noreen, Judy, Alex



One factor may be that this year we simply observed the parade from the sidelines.  In the past we created costumes, painted our faces and joined the parade.  Armed with bags of candy and necklaces, we were enveloped by the throbbing crowd.  It’s always more fun to participate than to observe.

The exception is when we’re observing children.  This morning I saw a small boy reach under a bench.  He’d found an intact confetti-filled egg.  He clasped his treasure tightly and I realized that his enthusiasm was a gift he’d unknowingly offered me.  I’d seen that look of awe before.  But where?

I rushed home, turned on my computer and looked at my Carnaval photos again.  I saw kids in giant air-filled bubbles, floating and rolling on a miniature sea.  I recalled a tiny girl with pink cotton candy stuck to her lips, tongue, and chin.  And the little princess who had mastered the royal wave – how many hours had her mother spent sewing sequins and jewels on her gown? Pre-teen boys threw eggs at trucks. The trucks pulled the floats. Alex saw one of the truck drivers drinking a beer!  The boys and the truck driver looked happy. 

 Perhaps this year’s Carnaval wasn’t extravagant but the children’s Frisbee-sized eyes and huge smiles proved that the zing was there.  I simply hadn’t look in the right places.  









Blanket Sellers




Adios until next year!