It's Cochabamba Day, for want of a better term. It's a little awkward and some Cbbambinos have chuckled with a shrugful concurrance at my naming it thus, but it's Cochabamba Day for me because it seems that people are unsure what to call it.
The day marks the moment somebody signed something some years ago to recognise Cbba as a city. The Founding day perhaps. It is a day left unnoticed by the rest of the country but it's very quiet here - not a big band drum to be heard, unlike yesterday's performance from 7am to at least 9.30pm when that drum's sound resonated off every city wall, tree and body.
And of course, in true Bolivian style there were many MANY bodies marching around in school uniforms and marching girl/boy outfits and officialdom spouting their much sought after words from various podiums around the city, all displaying that pride that I think I've already mentioned.
"That pride" I use with confused feelings, as Bolivia both valiantly struggles to pull itself out of it's enforced slump while giving in time and again in little ways - negativity and defeatedness a regular bandana flown. I don't know - leave me here for the remainder of the decade for time to get to know the real Bolivia.
Either way, I celebrated the eve of Cochabamba Day with gusto last night playing pool, rocking on at a civil hard-rock venue (they exist!) and of course, Karaoke-ing. Is there no end to my Western values (although all those events took place surrounded by the Bolivian masses)?
I think I'm bored. Better teach some of the Imperial Language.
Your FNBC.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
How could any of those western cultural manifestations be alien in a western country like Bolivia?
You just keep singing alone to the music and enjoy what ever celebration there is.
Love ya
Post a Comment