Carnaval in Spain is, I imagine, nothing in comparison to being in Rio or Sao Paolo... but they sure do put forth an effort to make it worthwhile.

I am still completely thrown by Spain's manner of doing things.  I am getting more accostomed to doing nothing on the weekends; grocery shopping is even out of the question because nothing, not even the supermarket, opens on Sunday. There will be a random day off for some Patron Saint on a Thursday and everyone skips school and work on Friday.  It's unofficial, called "puente", which means bridge... and everyone does it.  Classes are cancelled and people high-tail it out of town to the biggest and best parties.  But they don't take off for Carnaval... not even unofficially... and Miguelturra, a tiny town about 2 miles from Ciudad Real, has the third biggest celebration in the country.  So, because work got in my way, I didn't make it to Cadiz; that is where you want to be if you can't make it to Brazil.

This big festival is most commonly known in the States as Mardi Gras and celebrated by throwing beads and wearing gold, green and purple while strolling along Bourbon Street in New Orleans.  In Spain, however, it is like a week-and-a-half long Halloween party.  In October, Halloween costumes in Spain are limited to witches, skeletons and ghosts; and if you are over the age of 10 it's just weird if you dress up.  So Carnaval is an excuse for the older kids to dress up and "act a fool".

I went to Miguelturra on Tuesday night dressed as Edward Scissor-hands.  I was warm in big boots and cozy clothing but noticed that many girls in La Mancha seemed to take the hint from girls from the US that this is an opportunity to wear as little clothing as possible while pretending to be nurses, policemen and firefighters.  The town square was packed with people and heat was provided by some trashcan-bonfires but even so, it was cold.  There were tents set up with music and I never stopped snapping photos.  My favorite costume that I saw had to be the guy that had grown out his beard but shaved one side of it for the night.  On the side without a beard he died his hair pink and put makeup on, wore an outfit that was split boy-girl down the middle and he carried a pink purse.  That takes dedication and planning ahead.  The funniest part was to see so many people dressed as American things:  The Ghostbusters, The Simpsons, cheerleaders and American football (not soccer) players.  Towards the end of the night, or better said, around dawn, my facepaint began to melt and itch and I caught a bus home.  My students had told me that there was no way they were coming to class, so I got to shower and sleep a bit before going to my tutoring lessons at 1:00.  Later that day I found white face paint still on my ears and hoped that noone had noticed.

Thursday night, Jess and I made masks to wear out.  It is times like these when I really need a Wal-Mart, as much as I hate to say it.  Getting supplies like sequins and feathers is almost impossible and you have to go to a different store for each thing.  Feathers: individually sold for 0.67 cents each; more or less depending on the size and color.  Sequins:  on a string and priced by the length of string you get.  Glue: only superstrength that burns you when it comes into contact with your skin.  So we put our pricey supplies to use and made some amazing masks so that we didn't have to wear makeup.  Jess made her mask to match the beautiful, huge butterfly wings that she had bought for Halloween but didn't wear because the kids at the elementary school where she teaches told her that she couldn't wear them because they weren't scary.  I just stuck some feathers and tulle on mine and dressed in black and gold... blending a Vandy fan with a Venician mascarade party.  The Ciudad Real party wasn't as fun because it was colder and the ambience just wasn't as good; a parking lot is no comparison to a quaint town square.  There were some awesome cosutmes, though; Tetris and Björk, with her swan dress, were my favorites. 

There is something interesting that happens when your true identity is obscured.  My hair obviously gave it away that I was different, but people didn't stare as much or treat me like a foriegner that night.  Jess and I did feel like kicking some Spanish culo, though, because the guys tend to not speak to girls/foreigners/us unless they have been drinking; and that is just not attractive.  When every other guy yelled at us, "Hey! You are a butterfly! Come get in our car!" the temptation was strong, but we had enough self-control to deny the urge to run and jump in the back seat.  I do realize, though, that it isn't Spain-specific; the male species can pretty obtuse no matter what his nationality.  We called it a night around midnight and went to her apartment to chat and watch bad Spanish gameshows modeled after bad American gameshows.

Saturday night Katie came in from Toledo and we made a Mexican feast.  We all stayed at my apartment, talking until about five am... searching for our futures online. The next day we all wandered downtown to see the parade.  Floats, dancers and costumes galore.  One point for Ciudad Real!  It was a beautiful day with sunshine so all of the bars and cafes had put chairs outside to watch the event.  The efforts that the groups put into their themes were incredible.  People dressed as oragami figures, plastic cowboys and indians a la USA complete with a log cabin and Vikings that had a huge mechanical eagle/dragon float.  The three of us found a table in the sun and watched from a distance as we ate fried hardboiled eggs and drank red wine.  No better way to spend a Sunday afternoon in La Mancha than that.

http://picasaweb.google.com/celia.jameson

xox cr