Vive Bolivia siempre

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The homemade firecrackers exploded over my head for the hundredth time and I covered my mouth with my jacket. An old women with an iron grip grabbed my hand and almost broke my fingers as she dragged me to the ground and covered me with her shawl. She smelled of horse, dirt and beer. When the crackling subsided we poked our heads out and stood up. All around hundreds of people danced to the throbbing beat of the brass bands.

Moments before I had been dragged arm in arm through the crowd by a local women, hat awry but still perched on her head to pee. In the middle of the crowd of people she hitched up her beautiful costume and squatted on the ground. Well, when in Bolivia.....

Copacabana was drunk. Everyone around me was plastered with a mix of jubilation, whisky, cognac and beer.

Earlier that afternoon our bus from La Paz had been bogged in a sea of revellers. Unable to move any further into the town we jumped out and joined the crowd. We were thrust into the middle of a street parade and all around us were costumes as vibrant and elaborate as Rio Carnival.

The entire population of the town and the surrounding areas were involved in the festivities. At least 10 bands and troupes of dancers marched through the streets. Other finely dressed Bolivianos cheered and clapped from the sidelines and emphatically took regular swigs from their long neck bottles of beer.

In the town square, next to the church, the party reached fever pitch as costumed performers were allowed a break and their turn to down as many bottles of beer as they could.

We were warmly embraced by the locals and a constant stream of alcohol was forced upon us. I was dragged many times in to the parade to dance and rewarded with applause and more beer.

When it got too cold for beer it was whiskey. And when the cognac ran out it was more beer.

The atmosphere was eupnoric drunkeness and the Bolivianos felt they had much to celebrate. Generous with affection, food and alcohol they were determined to ensure we considered Bolivia the best country and the people the greatest. They kept asking us if it were so and despite our constant reassurance of yes of course, they shoved more beer down our throats just to make sure.

After 7 hours of dancing on cobbled streets I was exhausted but still the party continued. Well into the next day, many revellers sporting only part of their costume and an obvious swagger continued to play their instruments and march through the streets.

Must have been something in their coca tea....

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Comments

[anonymous]

You got some beautiful pics here Mel, they really catch the culture and country if that makes any sense? Wish I got more like these! xox