Or rather, the day of the dead party. But lets face it, that title caught your eye didn't it? Have I mentioned how good Latin American parties are? No? Well, take it from me, they sure know how to have a good time. The day of the dead is officially on November 2nd, but the Latin American crowd in Delft decided to kick it off this weekend. What happens on the day of the dead? Apparently its something like All Souls Day, where people remember the dead folk. Just wiki it or google it. You'll get all the gory details. But, as a good Mexican friend of mine aptly put it, yelling in my ear over the loud music, "Its just another reason to party". No reason to argue with her.
Anyway, the scene at the place was complete with the altar and skulls and candy and poems and the works. No Catrinas though. Latin American lasses with jet black tresses mingled with shiny-shirted Latin American chaps, laughing and yelling the whole time. Too stereotypical, you think? You don't hear me complaining now, do you? Of course, no Latin American party would be complete without the fancy salsa stuff and it was there, all right. Oodles of it. This dancing stuff is in their genes. Their hips move fluidly with the music and their feet are ever so light. Even their foot tapping is amazing. Gosh, its times like this that makes you think about the unfairness of it all. I mean look at us Indians. All we've got is some movie-esq, vulgar pelvic thrusting. Sensual, forsooth!! Its only a matter of time before some poor viewer gets his eyes poked out.
This time I resolved not to be a party wallflower. I dove resolutely into the crowd and tried shaking a leg. The end result was predictably unfortunate. As patient and as nice as my good Latin American amigo's were, I ended up looking like there was a two by four stuck in my butt. Ach, well, always a next time, I suppose. The music alternated between the fancy salsa stuff and anti-establishment songs. Anti-establishment songs are good in the sense that I can at least tap my foot to it. Of course when you feel the frost-bite in your toes mere foot tapping will not help. In which case there's nothing to beat jumping about in a crowd, pumping the air with your fists and repeatedly yelling Puto! in tune with Molotov's song of the same name. And before you go bananas let be repeat here what a Mexican chappie told me. Puto is apparently a very common thing to say in those parts of the world. It doesn't mean any offense and apparently blends seamlessly with the local language. So there. But now that I've told you this don't go spouting the stuff at meetings and other social occasions. I won't be held responsible if you get the stuffing kicked out of you because of some clever Puto related joke you cracked at the last party you went to.
The other highlight of the evening was the chappies coming up to me and speaking Spanish. And when I say "Sorry, nada espanol" (I know, i know, its bad Spanish), they do a double take and go "Ah, sorry, how was I to know? You looked like you were from our parts." The grin on my face on these particular occasions nearly split my head in half. I typically respond with a "No problemo. Gracias." And if you think that total strangers are doing this to make me happy, well, then I'm just going to have to ignore you. Although this does make me wish I'd learnt some Spanish by now. All in all a good time, lads.
Enjoy the official 'Day of the dead'. While you're at it polish some gravestones. Also, whack some stuff from the altars. It makes the good folk believe that the spirits of the dead people came back for some of their favorite thingys. Go on, now. Quick, while no one is looking.
Anyway, the scene at the place was complete with the altar and skulls and candy and poems and the works. No Catrinas though. Latin American lasses with jet black tresses mingled with shiny-shirted Latin American chaps, laughing and yelling the whole time. Too stereotypical, you think? You don't hear me complaining now, do you? Of course, no Latin American party would be complete without the fancy salsa stuff and it was there, all right. Oodles of it. This dancing stuff is in their genes. Their hips move fluidly with the music and their feet are ever so light. Even their foot tapping is amazing. Gosh, its times like this that makes you think about the unfairness of it all. I mean look at us Indians. All we've got is some movie-esq, vulgar pelvic thrusting. Sensual, forsooth!! Its only a matter of time before some poor viewer gets his eyes poked out.
This time I resolved not to be a party wallflower. I dove resolutely into the crowd and tried shaking a leg. The end result was predictably unfortunate. As patient and as nice as my good Latin American amigo's were, I ended up looking like there was a two by four stuck in my butt. Ach, well, always a next time, I suppose. The music alternated between the fancy salsa stuff and anti-establishment songs. Anti-establishment songs are good in the sense that I can at least tap my foot to it. Of course when you feel the frost-bite in your toes mere foot tapping will not help. In which case there's nothing to beat jumping about in a crowd, pumping the air with your fists and repeatedly yelling Puto! in tune with Molotov's song of the same name. And before you go bananas let be repeat here what a Mexican chappie told me. Puto is apparently a very common thing to say in those parts of the world. It doesn't mean any offense and apparently blends seamlessly with the local language. So there. But now that I've told you this don't go spouting the stuff at meetings and other social occasions. I won't be held responsible if you get the stuffing kicked out of you because of some clever Puto related joke you cracked at the last party you went to.
The other highlight of the evening was the chappies coming up to me and speaking Spanish. And when I say "Sorry, nada espanol" (I know, i know, its bad Spanish), they do a double take and go "Ah, sorry, how was I to know? You looked like you were from our parts." The grin on my face on these particular occasions nearly split my head in half. I typically respond with a "No problemo. Gracias." And if you think that total strangers are doing this to make me happy, well, then I'm just going to have to ignore you. Although this does make me wish I'd learnt some Spanish by now. All in all a good time, lads.
Enjoy the official 'Day of the dead'. While you're at it polish some gravestones. Also, whack some stuff from the altars. It makes the good folk believe that the spirits of the dead people came back for some of their favorite thingys. Go on, now. Quick, while no one is looking.
No comments:
Post a Comment