Scrambled? Fried? Poached...?

Ok, some good stuff. Last night was the first official night of Carnaval. Everyone floods the streets to watch the parade through town. It´s a procession not only of schools, university groups, clubs, but also a random assortment of indigenous populations and generations. Women get dolled up in long, floral skirts with matching tops, midriffs decorated with wildflowers. There was a group dressed in tribal gear, the women in coconut bikini tops and beaded bottoms, the men in hides with spears. There was even a Stayin´Alive group, the men in white suits with black shirts boogeying Travolta-style, the women in polyester dresses in assorted colors with plummeting necklines. Cowboys, mariachis, traditional Spanish-style dancers, all dancing through the town without a care. Queens per town and neighborhood are driven on the backs of trucks waving and throwing sugar cane candy into the crowd. There was even a promotional truck for a new flavored wine, chics on the top of the truck in tight yellow tops, chucking small boxes of wine to people. There are people on the street, people on the balconies, people on the rooftops, all cheering on the procession.

After the parade, the real fun begins. All sorts of sprays--foam, string, shaving cream, water guns, beer--coat the hordes of people. I sat with a group of friends all from Ecuador on the ledge of an internet cafe and watched the spray battles. I chatted up 2 Californians, Mike & Kyle, loaded with foam canisters. My friends had selected eggs as there weapons of choice...troublemakers, yes, but all in good fun. Until one of them smashed an egg on the side of Mike´s head. Great. And as expected here came the American temper and urge to fight! Mike would have probably beat the kid to a pulp but, being from here, he was able to elude Mike´s anger and fists. I can understand that having an egg smashed in your face may not be your idea of a good time. But at the same time, it´s Carnaval. And you´re in another country. What are you gonna do? File a police report that a kid egged you? Or better yet, make an international collect call home from Baños, Ecuador for bail money because you beat up a local? Or better still, fight your way through an entire town of Ecuadorians because a 115 pound kid hit you with an egg? Come on. Have a frickin beer and chock it up to Carnaval.