Festivals are Fun.
That’s what the root of festival means.
Funerals, Circumcisions, and near drowning of the Lord’s Children, are not truly festivals.
Most nations partake in a minimum of two, several day festivals a year. They generally involve the closing of government offices, daytime parades and concerts, and plenty of evening debauchery. Police/Military Juntas are usually remarkably calm. And the public genuinely seems to revel in the affair.
The Worlds Greatest Country, or the USA, depending on your education, celebrates its birth with 15 minutes of fireworks and the grilling of pre-cooked Dog Wieners. Other giant American Holidays include the Guilt Tripped Forced Homecoming where a Large Bird is served and the awkward family gather around the tv to watch a parade of corporate floats and football. Another festival involves more grilling of pre-cooked alleged meats, no firework, and the supposed remembrance of those valiant citizens who died defending the great nation. So, basically, the U.S. has no real festivals unless you count Gay Pride and Mardi Gras. And most Americans don’t.
Ok. Now lets not get too down on the US. The teaser was only meant to exemplify that the US is a nation that prides itself on work, not on time to shut down offices and make funtime. Ok. Great.
Well, the city of Quito, Ecuador, nestled snuggly in the Andes, likes to celebrate its birth, apparently just turned 472, with a thing they call a festival. The festival is uniquely named, “The Festival of Quito”.
Upon arriving in Ecuador, the author was warned about the mayhem of this citywide celebration. The author assumed it to be another global excuse to enjoy the intoxicating affects of alcohol. And it was, +++some.
An essential highlight to share involves the Open Air Urban Assault Vehicle (the acronym is an Incan word meaning Elusive Meaning). The Vehicles are medium sized flatbed trucks, outfitted with several rows of benches, a rear outdoor terrace, and a full roof. All trucks are outfitted with a large band that plays constant music as the Truck roams the city. Within its packed confines, revelers of all ages sing songs, blow whistles, and drink hot schnapps. Occupants on the rear balcony and rooftop test their balance while hanging precipitously low from the loosely welded railings.
On any given day or night, at least 100 of these Machines would be roaming the city.
They are known as Chivas. Also known in the West for its intoxicating affect.
And while these PartyMachines are primarily meant for locals displaying their pride in having the oldest city in Ecuador, one can not fully enjoy a new city without hitching a ride on the Chivas.
Riding Rear Terrace, with a large plastic cup flanked around my neck, I was being outdrank by my 13 year old neighbors. And her Dad kept filling her up. Really.
The only participant not enjoying the ceremonious sweet liquer was the 3 year old. And that was only because the whistle seemed stuck in her mouth.
We drove around the city for hours, purposely causing traffic, screaming shouts that I think translated into “I want to Suck You Quito…”. No incidents of road rage. People in cars simply watched, amused at our merrymaking. We stopped in the city’s historic squares for photos, where in one instant I was deemed the official dance partner of our Ship’s matriarch, the 86 year grandmother of the riding habitants.. And I was only a few more plastic cup fulls away from partaking in the Queen mother’s personal Chivas.
But I had my own female dilemma to handle on the homefront.
And the police never bothered us once. In a continent of notoriously corrupt police.
As you frolicked in this splendid jubilation of a city you really didn’t give a crap about (and now suddenly loved), the mind was brought back to life in America.
An inebriated car parade (driver’s are allegedly sober) could never ever never ever take place in the U.S. Apparently America is too sophisticated to delve into such barbarian festivities. America is civilized and law abiding. And with this PuritanicalConservative argument follows the well known retorts of “too many people would get hurt—it’s not safe---the trucks would plow over hundreds of innocent children—people would stop working and drink on the backs of trucks for the rest of their lives”.
Yet a bustling city of over one million people, with minimal police stating, and a uniquely universal human trait, known to Paine readers as “COMMON SENSE”, manages to enjoy such a cacophony for a week, with barely an incident.
The best part about such festivals…they bring about a sense of brotherhood (sister’s too).
Kind of like attending Large American Sporting events, or a consensual gangbang.
No matter what culture you find yourself in, everybody has their own personal problems. And every country has its own national problems. But despite the hardship that life sometimes bears, a festival seems to be a miraculous way to leave behind all those negative themes, and simply enjoy.
Or one can choose to shop. A great modern statesman once said, “Do not live in fear. Get out there and Shop.” Our nation depends on it.
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