1st Day of Carnivals: The Stolen Sandal

Now that carnival is over and I have a second to breathe let me try to recap the four days. I’ll start with day 1:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKUI6abqn_M]

After a wild Friday I wake up on Saturday at 11:30, jump out of bed, and run down to the battle of the flowers (the largest parade of the carnival). I went to meet with my friend Jean, but once I arrived there was no Jean to be found. So I’m walking around alone in a crowd of thousands of people, drinking Aguilia, looking for my friends, and trying to find a place where I can see the parade. While walking through the crowd I got cornered by 4 guys who wouldn’t let me move and kept reaching into my pockets. I covered my pockets with my hands and ran. Crisis averted.

So I come to terms with the fact that I’m not going to find my friends and finally found a place where I could see the action. After about 10 minutes the group of people next to me ask if I want a shot of their Whiskey.  I become the token gringo, repeating words and phrases, and taking shots whenever handed the bottle. Things got a little wild. We tear down the tent in front of us where the rich people are sitting to get a better view and start throwing water on everyone. After a few hours of mayhem they invite me to the beach. Good and bad things happen on the beach… this was no time to go.

I left and went down to the south of the city to a baseball field where a huge concert was being held. I went to meet with some friends I had made the night before at La Troja, but once again could not find them in the crowd. So I walked around until I found one of my students and went in with him and his friends.

They don’t sell beer… only liquor. Bottle of rum it is.

The concert is amazing. I’m dancing all over the place. Salsa, vallenato, reggaeton, whatever comes out of the speakers we are moving to. I take my sandals off to dance with someone, a few songs pass, I turn around and notice they are gone. So hours later I am leaving a sold out concert in a sketchy part of the city with no shoes. I call a friend who is at a street party and says he can get me an extra pair. Off to the street party I go, once again flying solo.

I get there and walk around until I find him only to be told he forgot the shoes. About 30 minutes later I step on a broken bottle of something and my foot starts bleeding all over the place. I poor some beer on it, grab a napkin and scotch tape, and make a band-aide. I went home around 4 am, cleaned the cuts up a little bit, and went to bed.

Keep in mind, while I did drink a good amount of alcohol throughout the day, I did it at a pace that kept me relatively sober. I have never, and will never, black out in this country… there’s too much to remember!