January, shmanuary, says the parrot

Just sitting out on the patio of a cafe, using wireless, drinking coffee, soaking up some sun, and thinking about how happy I am to be in a warm place, in the middle of "winter". Life is good. That is all, really.

Burning the old year, bringing in the new

Ecuadorians have a fantastic tradition for wrapping up each year and welcoming the next, in a celebration that is bigger and more raucous than even Carnaval. The days leading up to New Year’s Eve are punctuated by fireworks and the building of sometimes rather large effigies made out of highly flammable materials. These effigies are usually famous people or entities, real and imaginary, like: local, national and international politicians, Tweety Bird, Santa Claus and just about anything else you can conceive of. You can also purchase life-sized dolls on almost every street corner. (Most of the homemade effigies are over 10 feet tall, while the pre-fab ones are only about 5 feet tall.)

On New Year’s Eve Day, people put the finishing touches on their displays, and set them out for people to see, sometimes with signs explaining what they have made, but usually none are necessary. Meanwhile, should you try to go anywhere (walking or in a car), you are stopped by costumed individuals, and made to “colaborar”, or pay a toll. The costumes range from gorilla suits, to police uniforms, to very elaborate cross-dressing. (In fact, cross-dressing is interestingly the most beloved costume for these festivities.) The toll that you pay is usually just a few cents, but, if you don’t have spare change, you can contribute something else. (I had a friend who ran out of money once, and so paid with his shoelaces, for example.) As you might imagine, it takes a very long time to go anywhere, even on foot. On the roads, they block you from passing by putting a long branch in the road, or by holding a rope across your lane. Then, the toll-chargers typically do a little dance and (since they are usually cross-dressers keeping in character, or Michael Jackson), they verbally sexually harass the men in the vehicle. This is my favorite part. Once you pony up, they usually let you pass. (Alternately, they have the prerogative of deciding that you have not given them a sufficient amount, and force you into a few more centavos. It is, of course, very helpful if you know that this is all going to happen in advance, and so make a point of having lots of small coins on your person. Otherwise, it gets very, very expensive. In many of the smaller towns with no police (like in Salasaca), they also make you drink after you pay your toll. And it’s almost never something subtle like beer: we are talking moonshine here. When you finally do get to wherever you are going, you sometimes can’t see so straight.

Some neighborhoods get together and build haunted houses, and charge a fee for entry. The one haunted house that I went into was, predictably, very scary indeed, and featured men in scary costumes, brandishing various power tools, like chainsaws, jackhammers, and industrial-grade welding machines. I really need not mention the additional fact that there is also lots of drinking going on simultaneously, but there you have it.

At midnight, all of the effigies are set aflame, sometimes with the help of accelerators like gasoline and/or fireworks.

For those who haven’t had the time or inclination to build their own effigies, they may borrow the use of a pyre from somebody, in order to set aflame their own list of things from the previous year that need getting rid of or letting go of. These lists, like secret wishes that one makes before blowing out birthday candles, are supposed to be known only to the burner (lest they not come true, of course).* The streets are literally filled with people, and you spend a little while walking around and dodging the fireworks that people throw into the pyres and wishing people a Happy New Year. It is kind of apolcalyptic-looking, but far more fun than you might imagine the apocalypse to be.

And then, you dance until the sun comes up (and eat pork).




*Actually, I lied about the sexual harassment of men being my favorite part. The list-burning is.