Some old gooses loving the limelight of the Feria de Las Flores!
I decided to start my exploration of The Fair at la Cabalgata, which is a parade of about five thousand horses (and mules) and their riders, dressed to the nines in their riding outfits, filing down the main road of Medellin, much to the apparent amusement of the thousands and thousands of people lining the streets. It is like a huge street party with people setting up gazebos with cooler boxes (made me miss Loftus!) and food stalls running the length of the plus-minus 8 kilometre parade. My prissy local mates warned me that it was somewhat of a sh#t-show, but I was determined to jump right into the heart of this event and it turned out that I picked right.
The metro ride there was somewhat eventful with so many excited, singing and generally boisterous people crammed into the carts, that I was a little worried about some football-like riot taking place. There were people literally trying to force doors open and hurling themselves onto the mass of people in order to ensure that they could get onto the same train. I saw some panicky old people cowering in the corners of the cart, as the singing and chanting commenced. One could sense that the size and force of what was about to unfold was going to be on the top end of the scale.
Having arrived at the station I made my way through the throng and onto the main highway which had been closed for the event. I bought a nice Panama hat en route, seeing as the one I bought in Mexico went missing on some drunken evening in the land of the Aztecs, and, with beer in hand, I advanced towards the noise. What I was greeted by was something never before witnessed by these eyes. I saw the horses, I saw the people, and then I saw the riders. These were certainly not the kind of horse-riders I had imagined. At least a third of them were women and belters at that! Everyone was dressed up super snazzy with leather riding pants, cowboy hats, shades and the whole toot! It must be said that surely only Colombia could have an event quite like this. Salsa and Vallenato music was blaring as I watched the crowd and horses (!) swaying to the rhythm.
It is legendary here because of the horse’s ability to maintain a trot that hardly moves the person in the saddle. President Uribe famously met George W. Bush, on one of his state visits here, riding a horse and with a cup of coffee (filled to the brim) in one hand and performing the Paso Fino without so much as spilling a drop! The people went mental for this amazing display of apparent Colombian virility! It is hard for me to imagine Mbeki / Zuma in the saddle, for instance, although I would pay damn good money to see it! I suppose Eugene Terreblance is the closest equivalent we have?!
I soon met up with some mates who work at the language school and it was obvious that they had already been partying for some time as they seemed like a group of darted animals at that stage. One grabbed me around the neck and violently thrust a healthy swig of aguardiente down my throat. I surveyed the landscape and noted the level of debauchery with some amusement. Everyone was pissed! I knew then that the only way out was through and I duly commenced binge drinking.
I was soon making new friends and played the gringo-card expertly, even modifying my Spanish to have a nice twang to it. Diego, a mate from the language school, snatched my camera and promptly started taking pictures of all the stunners riding past (see his handy work in the gallery below). I focussed on introductions with the gaggle of ladies who had gathered round me and who were trying to impress me with obscure English phrases that they had obviously learnt on TV. Diego took the liberty of taking photies of me with a large number of them keen on showing off with the gringo. Nothing wrong with a bit of attention right?
A colossal party ensued. We danced in the streets, we sang, we threw name...and we did it well! As I said to my friends later: there is nothing wrong with a good wallow in absolute tackiness once in a while. ‘It’s good for the soul!’, I said, in response to being told that my attendance of this event was very ‘maƱe’ (the closest translation is: tasteless).
When the parade ended we stumbled with the crowd towards Parque Lleras, which is a famous night spot here in Medellin. On the way there we randomly danced with musicians on the streets, stopped cars and demanded money to finance our drinking (the girls were better at this although I did manage to get the largest single donation due to my ‘gringo‘ heritage) and I gladly reflected on my good fortune in the hazy twilight of my personal inebriation.
What happened after that is slightly blurry and it all culminated in my phone going missing at some stage in the evening. Suffice it to say that Hilton was an expert Salsa dancer that evening! I stumbled back into the house the next morning at around 8:30am…haggard and happy!
Next up, there was the Desfile de las Silletas and this is basically a colossal street parade that is a re-make of the days before roads and cars, when the Campecinos used to strap their wares (usually flowers) to their backs for the long walk, from the little towns and through the mountains, to the capital of Antioquia, namely Medellin. Some of these bunches of flowers are reputed to weigh around 150 kg’s and I couldn’t escape the obvious comparison with Jesus and the cross, whilst watching these proud people slowly filing past, their legs wobbling and some of them even needing assistance just to be able to walk. The crowd was at least 5 deep along the entire route (some 5-6 km’s) and there were stands erected everywhere crammed full of even more people eager to see the spectacle. The excitement was unbelievable and old and young were dressed in their Paisa garb, staking out spots for the whole family and just generally celebrating this event which is screened live all over the country. The weather was brilliant and Sergio mentioned to me that in all his years of seeing the Desfile de las Silletas it has never been anything but sunny on the day of the parade. I arrived a little late and so was craning my neck from behind the crowd to try and get a view. It was soon obvious to the people around me that a fascinated gringo was trying to see what all the fuss was about and the crowd duly parted like the Red Sea for me to be able to get right next to the road. From there I was at arms length from the parade and the crowd fed me everything from Coke to water to Aguardiente in order to make sure that I was enjoying myself as much as possible.
I giggled as the people around me would refer to how the poor Campecinos were struggling amongst each other and then immediately holler, ‘Vuelta! Vuelta! (- Turn! Turn!) in order to get a better view of the flowers, when one of parade members struggled past. Old (and I mean really old!) and young, men and women took part and all of them were so proud to be a part of it (the honour of carrying the Silleta is supposedly legendary). There was dancing (everything from Salsa to Tango), Chivas (the coloured busses that Colombia is so well known for), marching bands, performing artists and even the military and police, who obviously had the honour of filing past first. All of them were loudly cheered on by the crowd and I felt truly in awe of this celebration of culture and local pride. Do we have something like this in SA? I’d sure love to see it.
The people here seem to love the pigs (read: cops) and the ovation they always seem to receive attests to this. I guess its not a surprise when you take the violent past of this country into account. Hell, I would be cheering for the pigs in SA if they made any sort of difference to the way we’re living now!
When viewing these pictures and videos, bear in mind that what the people are carrying is ALL flowers! Look out for the flower arrangement made in honour of ‘Operation Jaque’ which was what resulted in the Freedom of Ingrid Betancourt. I added comments to some of the photies too...just to explain a little more.
(gallery of the parade in all its glory!)
There were more parades of old cars and Chivas that I attended in the following days, but to be honest I was running out of steam and it all started getting a little huge for me. That says quite a lot, I know. I did, however, make a trip to the botanical gardens for the display of Flowers (mostly Orchids of which the richest variety in the world exists right here in Antioquia) and birds. I took an absolute mountain of pictures along with all the other thousands of people in attendance. Prepare to be blown away by the gallery below. I have never seen colours like that in my life! There were flower experts from all over the world in attendance and I was pleasantly surprised to even see a South African contingent of “orchidiologists - flower people”.
(click for the most amazing display of flowers you will ever see!)
I guess the most striking thing I took from all of this was the intense pride that these people have of being, firstly Colombian, and secondly Paisa. The first time I saw it was when the marches against Las FARC took place. Here I further realised the stark difference with the bunch of disillusioned Saffies that I see everyday at home. How nice it would be for us to be able to enjoy something like this collectively and equally. There seems to be so many things that are continuously dividing us at home (with too few signs of the ship being turned around) and when I see the stark difference over here, I am slightly disheartened at the long road that lies ahead for all of us to be mutually and happily united in some way. One night of debauchery in Melville after the Rugby World Cup Final win does not count in my books!
No comments:
Post a Comment