Carnaval

You can’t visit Mazatlan for a week not to learn that their Mardi Gras celebration is one of the biggest in the world. Everyone knows about Rio de Janiero and New Orleans, but Mazatlan takes a great deal of pride in its Carnaval. The set up for it takes place weeks in advance as most businesses that cater to the tourist industry near where the celebrations occur start painting and cleaning up their public persona. Then the electrical Carnaval masks that hang from every other light post that divides the center lanes on the thoroughfares from the Zona Dorada (7 mile stretch) to the end of the Malecon (6 mile stretch) begin to light the night. These masks are colorful and add charm to a city that likes a fiesta.
The festivities begin on the Thursday night prior to Lent. Each night the last mile of the Malecon becomes a street dance. Restrooms have been built…not portapotties, but full on enclosed walk in restrooms with Pacifico cerveza signs that acknowledge the sponsor of every aspect of the Carnaval festivities. Three large stages for the musicians divide the mile long celebration. Too many tents to count provide locations to purchase your favorite Pacifico libation. That would be not only Pacifico, but Pacifico light, Modelo and Modelo light. Pacifico brewing company rules this week.
My lack of enthusiasm for attending any of the street dances concerned three issues: the lateness of the experience, the stories about opportunistic thieves, and the frightening rumor that spread quickly through town. The dances began after 9 and lasted all night. The reputation that swirled around town for months of the influx of dubious characters waiting to take advantage of inebriated celebrants also worried me. Lastly, the rumor that I heard from a friend who works with many locals also deterred my desire to pursue a late evening. The rumor, fortunately unfounded, picked up steam throughout the week. The police presence throughout all parts of the city gave it more credence.
A well trained narcotics gang called the Sevens had buried machine guns and police uniforms in the sand at a location close to the Malecon. This gang’s elite terrorists had been trained by the Israeli special forces and would one night wander through the streets during the celebrations to bring headlines to its cause. Typical issues dealing with tons of people and drunkenness were the only police issues of the week. I found it difficult to dismiss the rumor, so I stayed away from the street dances. This, fortunately, did not prevent me from enjoying Carnaval 2010.
The coronation of a king opened the celebrations on Thursday night. The city charged no admission. The king is invariably a local, young musician. Last year a five member male band won. On Friday night at the baseball stadium, the largest venue in Mazatlan, hosted the coronation of the queen. This was not free. Sharon and I attended with 25,000 others. I knew I was in for an interesting evening when I waited in line to have my ticket punched. The only worse ratio of women to men that I have encountered at a paid function was a presentation of Shirley Valentine. The first time I had watched the movie of Shirley Valentine I had to rewind so many scenes to try to understand what the woman was trying to say. I can’t understand how come the British can’t speak better English. All British movies should include subtitles. The Australian actress who portrayed Shirley in the play couldn’t speak any better. I had no rewind button to push, but I did know the story.
If I thought Shirley Valentine was difficult to comprehend, try attending a Mexican queen coronation that drew two huge Mexican singing sensations who bantered throughout the evening to the delight of everyone but the gringos. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Mexican women love to dress up. I adore watching young mothers pose for their husbands while on vacation. They learn the pose and the look early. I watched a mother working her six year old daughter to look at her daddy’s camera with a sultry pose. If you bring out a camera in front of a group of Mexican women, the pose pops out automatically. While waiting for Sharon finishing up at a beauty salon in a mall the other day, I looked at a photo display of women on a photo shop window. The only place that I could think of in the States that would have shown some of the more provocative photos would have been on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The ones of the eight month plus pregnant mothers blew me away. If you don’t think pregnant women can look sexy, go to Gran Plaza Mall. Holy Friole.
Now you get a bit of an understanding why the men’s coronation is free and the women’s costs money. The ballet dancers, the elaborate flower numbers reminded me of Beach Blanket Bingo in San Francisco, but the headdresses there are a spoof of performances like I watched. The sets were garish to an extreme, but the fireworks were dazzling.
I knew that the most famous Mexican songwriter would perform. I assumed that the young female star would perform afterwards, but it didn’t happen that way. The two sang duets…..an old 5’1” guy matched up with a 6’ stunningly graceful and attractive woman. The singing I liked. The Mexicans preferred the bantering that took up much more of the performance. I understood none of it. The next day I listened to a story about our Condo association president who makes a joke out of everything he hears. His wife related that every time the audience broke into any degree of laughter that Rich laughed louder and longer. He, of course, understood not a word of it. Who does that?
Saturday night a group of fifteen friends from Paraiso rented our favorite 51 foot sailboat. We loaded it up with copious amounts of food and alcohol for a seven hour evening. We boarded to catch a sunset. Then we sailed towards Olas Altas, where the oldest section of the beach of Mazatlan begins. In 1863 a battle between the French ships off the city’s coast line fired on Mazatlan. The fireworks that took place this evening captured a reenactment of this battle that the Mexicans won. The entire year 2010 is a focus on national pride as it’s the 200 year anniversary of its independence from Spain. This battle reenactment is just one of Mexico’s successes that will dot this year’s calendar. Besides its historical significance, the fireworks compared favorably to the best I have seen. The most spectacular though occurred in Paris on Bastille Day four years ago where large speakers played music that accompanied the fireworks on the parade area in front of the Eiffel Tower. It was like watching Fantasia live with 300,000 of my closest French friends.
Sunday late afternoon, the infamous parade rode down the Malecon. Again the theme focused on Mexican patriotism. The floats carried princesses galore, but the floats themselves all reflected Mexico’s history. Bands marched and played. People lined the streets for hours beforehand, and they partied early and long into the evening. Costumes and horses and heroes and swirling colorful dresses and monstrous floats flew by one after another. The spectators loved it. They cheered and sang patriotic songs and shared their enthusiasm with everyone in their midst. A newly renovated bar sat at our back which provided not only refreshments but also los banos. We bought extra beers for celebrants who surrounded us and befriended us. Ahhhh the power of cervezas!!!!! We talked to so many people who had come from all over Mexico to enjoy this wild fiesta. They came every year. Since I bought one gentleman beers, he wanted me to share his evening in the pursuit of wild women. He flashed his condoms and told me that we could find muy bonita muchachas. Nunez caught his leering eye, shook her finger at him in the universal no directions, and said, “El esta mi esposa”; as she next pointed to her wedding band. My friend apologized and disappeared.