After the very real threat of being very raped by a very depraved and very drunk woman while visiting the Queen Wars in Chitré the night before, I woke up Sunday morning with an insatiable thirst for carnival hotness. I don’t know what it was, perhaps it was the 4-hour drive or the lack of a proper dosage of beer during said drive that had me that way, but I woke up that morning with one prime directive displayed all across my field of vision, blinking in bright-red binary letters scrolling from right to left as my wake-up ceremony began:

YOU WILL GET DRUNK TODAY, ROB.

As you could probably tell from my lists of items, I didn’t bring any alcohol with me. Now that I was there, I realized that I might’ve made somewhat of a mistake due to the fact that goods (or at least alcohol as it is sadly what I buy the most when I’m out of the city) are a little more costly than they are in the city, enough to include it in the “Things That Make You Go Hmmm…” list. Values are not accurate by any means, but just so that you’re in tune with the proportional difference between rates in the city and rates reigning the interior I’ll tell you that a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka (my apparent beverage of choice since it’s not too cheap nor too expensive and the drunk funk it gives me is not comparable to any other vice known to man) in the city costs around $6 bucks and some change. That’s a full liter of vodka for $6 dollars. Now, in Chitré things get steep and I mean it… the very same bottle of delicious vodka rings up at around $9 bucks and some change. Look, do you know what I can do with $3 dollars?! That amounts to a lot of street food, man… I’m getting ahead of myself, though. Street meat is for later. Living rings up to be a little more expensive than when you are in the city but it does have its perks. Going to the interior you begin to notice just how much of a city slicker you really are and the effect a city slicker vibe makes onto girls from over yonder is comparable to the vibe a distinct-looking American and how it affects women from pretty much anywhere in the country. Congratulations, city slicker: you are now highly desirable.

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about people from the city that make interiorinian (?) women crazy, just like a man with blonde hair and clear eyes would kill in any group of congregated women no matter where you are in Panama. This is purely sociological, I gather: I hear it from Jenny and the other Canadians all the time, how they’re not as impressed with surfer-looking dudes because that’s all they see when they’re back home in Mountieland. Letting this theory ride, I can only assume that seeing men with jet black hair, tanned skin and brown or black eyes (ahem) would give them the same effect a blondie would give to Panamanian women. Conclusion of this earth-shattering study? Simple: must move to Canada.

After my waking ceremony had ended, breakfast was served. Something I think is worthy of note at this time is how you should definitely leave some points already taken care of before going out to your carnival destination… you can improvise with the rest, no matter how costly it’ll be to get the stuff you need in the interior, but there are certain things you should definitely take care of before heading out to the great frontier of carnavalistic nature.

a. A place to stay. The good thing about carnivals is that it’s probably the only holiday in Panama where you can make preparations for 10 months in advance. I’m not kidding; everyone is in on it, from the nice old ladies hanging out in the parks to the grand hotels aching to lure in your business… there are so many options and so much competition that no matter what your budget is you’ll always find a place to stay if and only if you deal with this in advance. I can’t stress this enough! No matter where you plan on going, book your reservations in advance! Commodities are directly related to your budget if you don’t have any relatives living in the interior, that is. If you think you don’t have an available house in the interior then think again: you will always have someone with a house in the interior for a range as far as three degrees of separation. By this I mean that if you yourself don’t have a relative in the interior, then your friend does. And if your friend doesn’t, his friend will. Panama is that small. Take note that there can even be a 4^th degree if you feel you’re not social enough for this system to work for you but as a personal rule I think that reaching out that far would be borderline rude. If I owned a house and I saw my friend bring a guy I barely know who brings a guy I definitely don’t know who brings a guy I know even less, I’d lay the business on all four of them. Opportunist bastards.

Anyway, the other option other than shacking up with the friend of a friend of a friend of your friend is definitely hotels. There aren’t any hostels, per sé; instead, there are nice townsfolk renting out rooms of their homes or mattresses, hammocks or simply a piece of real estate to lay your bones. Price ranges vary, but, hooking up with the townsfolk for a place to stay is definitely the way to go not only because of price ($5 - $15 a day, more or less) but also because interacting with the townsfolk is definitely a more fulfilling experience than going through the regular hotel bureaucracy deal. Hotels in the interior can be mistaken for any decent bed & breakfast inn in the U.S with all of the modern-world facilities capitalism demands from a 4-star hotel. So, to recap, my advice is to go by these criteria in finding a carnival home:

1) Find a relative you get along with and shack up at their home. Or a friend’s relative. Or a friend’s friend’s relative. You know the rest.

2) If for some reason you can’t accomplish criteria number 1, consider looking in the classifieds section of the newspaper, asking lotto ticket sellers (it sounds weird, but it works) or just keep your ear antennae on the transmission retrieval for any housing opportunities for carnivals. Hell, if you feel adventurous you can just go over to whatever town you decide to go to and ask around.

3) If none of the prior two work for you, then sell out to the man and shack into the ritzy hotel. They’re much more expensive and they do fill up months in advance as well, so I suggest you call whatever hotel you choose in early December so that you’re guaranteed a room. In the spirit of independents and small-business owners though, you should try finding hostels; they’re much cheaper, and all you need is a place to sleep for a few hours and leave your bag in anyway. You’ll never use the pool, eat in the restaurant or be in the hotel that much.

b. Food. Look, I’m not going to condone the ingestion of street food during carnivals because it will be highly contradictory from what you’re about to read later on this article, but the best thing you can do in terms of economy is to make a money rally amongst everyone that will be going with you on the carnival adventure and pull out a food quota per head. This is very important, since that way you won’t have to worry about cutting back on your alcohol consumption in order to take care of petty annoyances like eating. For a house with a stove that gave shelter to somewhere north of 10 people, we each had to pitch in $30 dollars. That included all 3 meals, plus so much beer we could’ve sunk Ireland 3 times over. Now, these aren’t lobster dinners by any means; our diet consisted mostly of scrambled eggs, sausage and bread with butter and cheese for breakfast, and rice with as many variations of beef we could come up with for 4 days straight, lunch and dinner. It was delicious.

It is a good idea to buy everything in the city before heading out to the interior for the same reasons stated above. One thing you’re better off buying while on the road though, both because of price as well as freshness, is dairy products. Things like milk, butter and cheese are the best on the planet when they’re freshly done. You can get both pasteurized or sans Pasteur very cheap, and very good. Shameless plug time: In the town of Chame, you will find this dairy shop next to a gas station called “Quesos Chela.” They’ve been in the business for over 50 years and I’ll tell you this right now… I will kill every man, woman, child or mammal that gets in the way between me and their cheese empanadas. They’re just so good!

c. Someone who has been there before. This one is not essential, but it will sure help you when you need it the most, especially if you look foreign. This sounds somewhat derogatory, I’m sure, but you must understand that unless you don’t want to get yipped every time you make any sort of transaction you need to either know how things cost in Panama or be around someone who does. I’ve heard many horrors stories. To you, a $20 cab ride might sound like a bargain, but when the most expensive inner city fare (excluding rides to and from the Tocumen International Airport) is $3.50, you should feel like an idiot when you give the driver that large bill. You just made his day. When you deal with any street vendors in the city, you will always be overcharged. It’ll take you months to know what everything costs, so if you will be in the country for a few days it is best to either live it up and spend money in stuff that’s worth a damn or have a local you can trust to show you around.

Having said this, something very strange happens when you get to the interior… maybe it’s the air or the constant company of cows, but the people who live outside of the city are incredibly friendly. For a Panamanian who’s as much of a city slicker as they come, this honest will to be friendly was very suspicious for me when I first visited the Azuero Peninsula. After a while though I began to notice many differences between the city and towns across the area… you see, people were actually polite when they drive. Based on this principle, drivers from the city stand out like sore thumbs: they honk, they curse, they drive fast and don’t let anyone go before them… in contrast, Azuero drivers are very considerate when they’re behind the wheel. A complete 180 from what you’re used to in the capital… truly a sight to behold. Because of their goodwill and eagerness to help tourists, I am pretty sure you don’t have to worry about getting ripped off while visiting them. Be weary of sunglass sellers, though.

As we arrived to the made-up “secured entrance” to La Villa de Los Santos at around noon, I decided I wanted a new version of my signature white-framed sunglasses. I would refer to this side quest as “the search for the new hotness.” Anyway, all four entrances to the town square are blocked off and set up to allow party-goers entry one by one, only after a routine pat-down. They’re not the regular toy cops either, but Special Forces… the guys that look like they’re going into the jungle to fight the Predator. Personally, I believe all of these dudes, with their crazy machine guns and steel-toed boots are nothing more than an intimidation tactic for people who are too drunk to give a damn about them. Because I mean, seriously, what cop in their right mind is going to open fire on a suspect when you’re amongst a crowd of thousands of people?

“That punk stole a shish kabob! He’s running away!”

“Make a fishnet out of him, rookie.”

Moronic. They check everything, from bandanas people are wearing to the thermoses where you store your beverage. Speaking of thermoses, they will be your best friends when you sink into the myriads of people who want nothing more than ice-cold water shot from fire hoses straight at their faces. All of this “culecos” nonsense happens for a reason: February is smack-dab in the middle of our summer season, where you could make a BBQ party using the road as your grill. Add to that thousands upon thousands of people all squished together, the live music coming at you from all angles, the dancing and humping… when you factor all of it in, having people hose the crowds down with water is not only festive, but necessary. Your thermos should be considered essential carnival gear, and for a $1.50 you really have no excuse. There are special ones you can buy on the small thrift shops you will see across the sidewalks and they carry no more than a liter of liquid, so you will have to pack in a very strong drink if you want to be in the zone you should be. Of course, if you can get a bigger recipient then please, by all means: I walked into the square with a special plastic jug that claimed being able to hold the 8 glasses of water you’re supposed to drink every day. That’s 8 full glasses of 8 ounces of water, boys and girls. Naturally, I poured a whole bottle of vodka into the jug and sprinkled it with 2 table spoons of orange juice. You bet your ass I was gonna get smashed.

All of us were there, and Cutito had been the first victim of Father Alcohol the night prior. It was my turn. Let it be noted that I don’t remember drinking from my miracle beverage until after I was in the culecos but to tell you the truth my memory of that day is not exactly what I would call “lineal.” Draw your own conclusions. I do remember that as we were walking to somewhere we could set up a base camp in, a mammary caught my eye. Vodka was making me even more obvious than I usually am in regards to my appreciation to the female form so when I saw this milky white, brunette cowgirl soaking wet with hot pants and a smile dancing to some reggaeton I had to stop and admire blatantly as what I can only assume was her “boyfriend” stood beside her. At that moment I noticed 3 things:

1) Her “boyfriend” was staring at me, staring at her.

2) There were no people between them and me, so he could very well tackle me if he could.

3) It could’ve happened, because her left tit was popping out of her shirt as she danced.

Alcohol brings out the primal nature in all of us, so all I could think of as I saw that breast flapping free for all to see was that I was a baby. Baby wanted some milk, and the only place I would get some milk from would be from that flapping boob, one that kept saying “yes” to everything I said with each thump of the beat. The breast must have been drunk too, because it wasn’t a sure “yes” nod but rather the nodding you make when you’re passed out on jaegers and your friends are asking you if you want a ride home. I wanted to take that friend home. If it wasn’t for Kuma literally pulling me back into the single-file with the rope strap we concocted for my mammoth drink I would’ve most definitely gotten punched in the face, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is the next thing you should keep in mind when you’re out and about in carnival grounds: have a friend to spot you. If you know you’re getting drunk and are sure you’re prone to doing something stupid, have a good friend draw the line for you because you sure as hell can’t draw a damn thing in the state you’d be in. It had been no less than 15 minutes and not only did I see my first naked breast, but in some parallel universe I got my teeth knocked in because of it… I returned to the single file, laughing like a hyena and saying that the tit was calling for me when something totally unexpected happened… my first blackout.

The power comes back on in the House of Rob and we apparently found our base camp right behind one of the hosing trucks. Setting up a base camp when you’re with a big crowd is good to have just in case you get lost… this is good advice not just for carnivals, but for everyday life as well. Magnus’ parents had brought in a larger water thermos full of ice for whoever needed them (a brilliant idea), and when I was back from pitch black darkness people were getting ready to go into the culecos. I took a look at my vodka drink and noticed I had drunk a considerable amount, but nothing alarming. Ice, and I was good to go.

You will laugh at what I’m about to say, but when you’re in carnival groups and with a group you’ll be putting all of your survival and tactical expertise to the test. Going single file through the crowds is the best thing when trying to get to a particular spot, and scout missions turn out better when you use the buddy system. Eventually we got to a good spot by the culeco truck (that would be within 15 feet from the container for maximum exposure) and called out for water. I have learned that being loud does wonders for getting some hose TLC, and if there’s one thing my group has is the tendency to be rowdy. People have different set-ups when placing themselves in a culeco crowd; a lot of them take coolers so they don’t have to walk back to the square to get beers or what not, dudes with “girlfriends” grab them so close and tight it’s as if they *gasp!* didn’t trust them!

Before I black out again, let me tell you something about relationships during carnival time: at my day and age of being an international man of mystery, going with your significant other is probably the most moronic, ass-tastic thing you could possibly do in the history of ass-tastic things to do. Why, you ask?

The origin of the name “carnival” is disputed. According to one theory, it comes from the Latin carrus navalis (”ship cart”), referring to a cart in a religious parade, such as a cart in a religious procession at the annual festivities in honor of the god Apollo. Other sources, however, suggest that the name comes from the Italian carne levare or similar, meaning “to remove meat”, since meat is prohibited during Lent. Another theory states that the word comes from the Late Latin expression carne vale, which means “farewell to meat”, signifying that those were the last days when one could eat meat before the fasting of Lent.

Of course, the way things are now have nothing to do with the original intention of carnivals. In comparison, the way they celebrate said “removal of meat” in Rio de Janeiro doesn’t really have any meat involved in the festivities, unless you count the fat man:

The Brazilian citizens used to riot the Carnival until it was accepted by the government as an expression of culture. The modern Brazilian Carnival finds its roots in Rio de Janeiro in the 1830s, when the city’s bourgeoisie imported the practice of holding balls and masquerade parties from Paris. It originally mimicked the European form of the festival, over time acquiring elements derived from African and Amerindian cultures.

In the late 19th century, the cordões (literally laces in Portuguese) were introduced in Rio de Janeiro. These were groups of people who would parade through the streets playing music and dancing. Today they are known as blocos (blocks), consisting of a group of people who dress in costumes according to certain themes or to celebrate the Carnival in specific ways. Blocos are generally associated with particular neighborhoods or suburbs and include both a percussion or music group and an entourage of revelers.

During the Carnival, a fat man is elected to represent the role of Rei Momo, the “king” of Carnival.

Carnival in Rio de Janeiro is known worldwide for the elaborate parades staged by the city’s major samba schools in the Sambadrome and is one of the world’s major tourist attractions.

Samba schools are very large, well-financed organizations that labor year round in preparation for Carnival. Parading in the Sambadrome runs over four entire nights and is part of an official competition, divided into seven divisions, in which a single samba school will be declared that year’s winner. Blocos deriving from the samba schools also hold street parties in their respective suburbs, through which they parade along with their followers.

Trinidad & Tobago also has a pretty nifty carnival without having to give up on meat, either:

In Trinidad & Tobago, Carnival is a holiday season that lasts over a month and culminates in large celebrations in Port of Spain which is the capital of Trinidad, on the Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday before Ash Wednesday with Dimanche Gras, J’ouvert, and Mas (masquerade). Tobago’s celebrations also culminate on Monday and Tuesday but on a much smaller scale in its capital Scarborough. Carnival is a festive time of costumes, dance, music, competitions, rum, and partying (also referred to as fete-ing). Music styles associated with Carnival include soca, calypso, and steel pan.

The annual Carnival steel pan competition known as the National Panorama competition is held in the weeks preceding Carnival with the finals held on the Saturday before the main event. Pan players compete in various categories such as “Conventional Steel band” or “Single Pan” by performing renditions of the current year’s calypsos. Preliminary judging of this event for “Conventional Steel Bands” has been recently moved to the individual pan yards where steel bands practice their selections for the competition.

“Dimanche Gras” takes place on the Sunday night before Ash Wednesday. Here the Calypso Monarch is chosen (after competition) and prize money and a vehicle bestowed. Also the King and Queen of the bands are crowned, where each band to parade costumes for the next two days submits a king and queen, from which an overall winner is chosen. These usually involve huge, complex, beautiful costumes.

J’ouvert, or “Dirty Mas”, takes place before dawn on the Monday (known as Carnival Monday) before Ash Wednesday. It means “goodbye to the flesh” or “welcome to daybreak” (depending on the interpretation). Here revelers dress in old clothes and cover themselves in mud, oil paint and body paint. A common character to be seen at this time is “Jab-jabs” (devils, blue, black or red) complete with pitch fork, pointed horns and tails. Here also, a king and queen of the J’ouvert are chosen, based on their representation of current political/social events/issues.

Carnival Monday involves the parade of the mas bands, but on a casual or relaxed scale. Usually revelers wear only parts of their costumes, and the purpose of the day is more one of fun than display or competition. Also on Carnival Monday, Monday Night Mas is popular in most towns and especially the capital, where smaller bands participate in competition.

Carnival Tuesday is when the main events of the carnival take place. On this day full costume is worn complete with make up and body paints/adornments. Each band has their costume presentation based on a particular theme, and contain various sections (some consisting of thousands of revelers) which reflect these themes. Here the street parade and eventual crowning of the best bands take place. After following a route where various judging points are located, the mas bands eventually converge on the Queen’s Park Savannah to pass “on the stage” to be judged once and for all. Also taking place on this day is the crowning of the Road March king or queen, where the singer of the most played song over the two days of the carnival is crowned winner, complete with prize money and usually a vehicle.

This parading and revelry goes on into the night of the Tuesday. Ash Wednesday itself, whilst not an official holiday, is marked by most by visiting the beaches that abound both Trinidad and Tobago. The most populated being Maracas beach and Manzanilla beach, where huge beach parties take place every Ash Wednesday. These provide a cool down from the previous five days of hectic partying, parades and competitions, and are usually attended by the whole family.

Partying, parades and competitions. Notice the absence of parting ways with meat in the festivities. Now, throughout the ages the meaning of the word “meat” inside this construct has taken a rather deviant turn, so much so that “meat” is now “flesh,” and when I say flesh, I really mean sex. I’m not here to argue the significance of the festivities not only because I love the irony that is a highly Christian-catholic society celebrating a holiday that pretty much encourages you to do everything the Holy Bible condones you to do, but also because I like that there is a holiday where people can express themselves any way they want without being held against it. It’s healthy for the mind, body and soul. Where I’m trying to get at is that knowing that the holiday is all about sex, freedom and sexual freedom, and you’re young, without commitments and ready to party, the thought of you consciously deciding to bring your lady friend along for some carnival goodness is ludicrous.

Look at the logistics of this: that girl earlier whose tit I was about to suck off her chest? Her “boyfriend” doesn’t need that kind of thing, man. We live in a ridiculously macho culture, and there I am, my head turning into a wolf’s as I howl at the moon over this lovely lady’s chest. What’s a macho man going to do but feel like his rule over that breast is being compromised? He’s so insecure that the tit will cling onto my lips in an attempt to escape the evil clutches of he, the macho emperor, that he is compelled to put the meanest face he can spawn out of the front part of his head so that the alpha male inferiority complex can find an outlet to express its utter disdain for what I am doing. Please, grow the hell up. Still, if you think you are the kind of person who starts changing size with a green pigment taking over your skin tone every time some random guy gives her “the eye,” then why would you bring your girlfriend? You know you’ll only take it out on her in the end. Save both her and I some trouble and go get trashed by yourself, eh, tough guy?

On the other side of the coin, said tough guy, being a macho man in nature, believes that in order to be a real man not only does he need one girl to call his “main squeeze,” but also others that are readily available for horizontal whoopah, all of them without her knowing. What’s more, she can’t do the same because then he will consider it cheating, call her a whore and kick her to the curb. Not only would these two people be living a lie, but they would also be making it very difficult for themselves to enjoy carnivals given that they will most likely be arguing the whole time. I ask you: why bother? I am glad I am the type of person that can go out with a girl and blatantly look at other women without having to hide my intentions from anyone, and in all fairness I expect whoever is confident enough to roll with yours truly to do the same, and not just that but tease them. It’s all part of the game we play. I’m 120% percent sure I want to get into that girl holding the hose that’s spraying a barrage of water at me, rip out her wet hot pants, slap her ass while I make her sit on my face andohgoddammitIjusthadablackout.

I come back from the black nebula and I find myself behind the culeco truck I was in front of but just a few moments ago, and Bounceddog is holding me back by the rope contraption. It seems I am screaming at some butt cheeks which are dancing to a heavy bass I can hear in the distance. I was compelled to try and get her attention.

Hey…

HEY….!!!

Hunny….!!! Sweetheart…!!! Baby….!!!

Hunny, I love you!!!

I… love… you!!!

Come down!!!

Please come down! Can’t you see?!?!?

Baby, I love you…!

HEY!!!

Over here!!!

Over here!!! Baby!!! Baby, baby, hunny…!

Hey… HEY!

Yeah! Her! Next to you!!!

NOT YOU, YOU IDIOT! The other one!

Yes!!! Call her!!!

Hunny!!! Ohhyeahshe’slookingatme hunny!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! *making gestures with his hands* I… LOVE… YOU… Iloveyoubaby come down! I wanna know you! Whatatightplumpassmanhunny come on down!

Walk down the stairs on the side of the truck…

…and come down!

…

HEY! Don’t turn around!!!

Come back!!! Don’t turn around!

God…

She broke my heart into a million little pisses.

I need more vodka.

There was no more vodka though, as it was done and doing laps on my bloodstream. Next thing I know, it’s 4PM and we’re walking out of the square and towards the cars. I remember about my search for the new hotness and trying to walk towards the sunglasses vendor but I would stray whenever I saw a pretty girl. I would then be pulled back into the group by Bounceddog, and even Kuma a few times. Apparently this was such a constant occurrence that nearing the end of our lovely culeco outing they were forced to take turns walking me, like if I were a horny Labrador or something ridiculous like that. No, I don’t remember that part.

Magnus’ mom, God bless her heart, didn’t make me feel like the drunken fool I should’ve felt like on the way back. What I did feel like, though, was drunk and unable to drive the car back. Walo did the designated driver duties and I black out all through the 5 minute drive it takes to get from Los Santos to Chitré. Thank Marley for aspirin. I took a well-deserved nap and woke up later to see everyone doing karaoke with some microphone someone brought out of somewhere. I was too hung over to want to go out, so the lot of us decided to stay in, drink beer and play a crapload of Dominoes. I was out like a light by 1AM, making sure I took a sleeping pill and some more aspirins before I do so I could sleep like a rock… I would need it for what awaited me on Monday.

IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT: Culecos in Chitré, Incidents in Carnivals, The Queen Wars: Las Tablas Edition and gender-bending homosexuals.

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