|
|
|
 |
|
|
Travel Writers: Crazy Carnival by Julie
Philip
|
| |
|
Location: La Vega, Dominican Republican, Caribbean
|
| |
|
|
|
Since moving to the Dominican Republic to teach six months
earlier, all I kept hearing from the locals is, "You
have to go to Carnival in February!" I imagined wild
and wondrous celebrations not unlike the Brazilian Carnival
so often seen on TV. So, come February, my friends and I were
determined to visit the Carnival in the small town of La
Vega, generally considered the best place for Carnival
in the DR, with a 500-year tradition.
Driving there is half the adventure. Luckily, my friend had
a car, so we didn't have to travel the usual way of gua-gua
- the overcrowded but cheap public transportation common with
locals. It took about three hours to get there from our town,
Cabarete, on the North Coast. The roads are covered
with big, deep potholes, and the roads barely pass for two
lanes; no dividing lines of course. Like most Latin countries,
the rules of the road are, well, there are no rules. But the
locals seem to have some logic to their chaos. |
|
|
|
|
|
After our nail-biting trip through the mountains, we arrived
in La Vega. We headed downtown for the festivities. What we
saw was a mass of people slowly walking down the street. We
figured they must be walking to where the entertainment was,
so we joined in the slow, crowded, hot parade. The distant
sound of merengue music was in the air, so we figured we were
headed in the right direction. Along the sides of the roads,
families stood about, watching us walk along. It sort of felt
like we were the entertainment, though we were by no means
doing anything remotely entertaining. |
|
|
| |
|
After starting to feel quite disappointed with it all, the
crowd suddenly started to get excited and quickly dispersed
in all directions. Us dumb gringos were left standing all
alone in the middle of the street wondering what the hell
was going on. Suddenly, a big gate off a side road opened
and about fifteen costumed creatures came running out towards
us as if the gates of hell were being opened!
So my friends and I hit the pavement running. Then suddenly
from behind I felt something hit my butt and felt my knees
buckle beneath me from the pain. The evil costumed diablos
conjuelos (literally 'lame devil') carried, what looked
to me like a hard balloon attached to the end of the rope.
They are, in reality, inflated cow bladders, cleverly disguised
in colorful fabrics. They swing and hurl these things around
like weapons and hit you - only females - on your keister.
And they don't hold back- they nail you HARD!!
So for us, Carnival consisted of running and hiding from
these crazy devils. I ended up getting hit from behind about
twenty times; I was honestly almost near tears it hurt so
badly. Once you got into a safe viewing range, however, the
masks and costumes are absolutely fantastic- shiny, colorful
fabrics and horned, elaborate, grotesque masks that are handmade
and different according to each region in the Dominican Republic.
Even up to a couple months after Carnival I was still insistent
that I would never go again. Though, much like childbirth,
after the memory of the pain fades away, you're ready and
excited to do it once again.
|
|
Text & photos © Julie Philip 2004, All Rights Reserved
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
