We four Gringo-retirees exited Cafe Don Pedro, owned by Roger, native of Massachusetts, and sprinted across grand Avenida Solano to the opposite corner. It is graced by the high-walled public school, Colegio de la Salle. Along the sidewalk, we competed with excited children for transportation to our destination, El Centro’s Hostal Macondo, named for the imaginary town in Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ novel, 100 Years of Solitude. «Escritores of Cuenca,»an expats writer group meets there weekly. We will join several of our friends to share readings and make comments.
«Blam! Blam!» came the sound of water balloons tossed from windows of engine exhaust-stained blue city buses, crowded with exuberant riders departing from the «parada,» bus stop. At the teeming school entrance, foam string from aerosol spray cans decorated victims of attacking rascals, mostly upon head and shoulders.
«Must be Carnaval,» quipped our slim white-haired friend, Suzanne, also from Massachusetts. We all uttered an assent as a yellow taxi pulled over to help us get away.
Usually associated with church liturgy, Carnaval season is the beginning of the fertility festival in Ecuador. From scheduled city tourist events to spontaneous neighborhood celebrations, expats are drawn into the flavor, sights and sounds of Carnaval in Cuenca. School children enjoy a two week vacation, enabling families to travel to favorite spots.
Early in the morning of an otherwise ordinary day during Carnaval, I awoke at daybreak to the sound of popcorn popping outside our building. «Pop! Pop! Pop!» resonated in the bedroom from a distance of perhaps two blocks. «Belinda, our neighbors are firing off firecrackers, it sounds like,» I mumbled to my startled dear wife.
«God knows the reason. I guess it’s just them having fun,» she replied.
On my afternoon stroll along Rio Yanuncay to a wood workshop, another sign of Carnaval appeared. I saw bathers frolicking with delight. I have seen indigenous families wash clothes along its banks with clothing laid out on the grass in the sun. «This is something new,» I think, «and it sure looks like they’re having fun!» A half dozen boys and girls cavorted in the water, splashing and shouting excitably. Due to lack of recent rainfall, the river ran safely around large boulders and dried tree branches.
Headed home one afternoon past a neighborhood convenience «tienda,» I watched in amazement as our attentive teenaged-clerk screamed from behind a screened-in counter and grabbed a bucket of water. She had spotted her «amiga» and targeted her. Gleefully, she poured water over the head of her victim who shrieked back!
Mercado Nueve de Octubre occupies a two block-long plaza in El Centro. As I waited for Belinda by the three-story mercado’s glass doorway, I followed the antics of several youths who sprayed with foam and tossed water to douse unsuspecting shoppers. Everyone broke into laughter while the victims covered up.
Alongside the building walls during Carnaval, vendors specialize in the sale of foam string in aerosol spray cans, and large plastic water spray guns. Admittedly, expats are usually excluded from the barrage, and police warn the attackers to let us pass.
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