The Best Weekend (So Far)

Sorry for the huge delay in posts. Silly broken keyboard is getting me behind...and keeping me at school in the arid computer room until inhumane hours of the night.
Before I do anything else, I want to apologize for two things. One, I apologize that this post is going to be UBERlong, and that much of the exciting parts are going to be interspersed with not-so exciting parts. Two, I apologize that I can´t upload photos or videos yet to help balance out all this writing, because my camera (with which I have captured wacko moments) is only compatible with the computer that has a juice-broken keyboard (I should have the new keyboard installed by next week, provided Amazon.com sends it to me a tiempo).
So here we go. This was hands-down the best weekend so far, for multiple reasons. I just put together exactly why carnaval is when it is...it´s the Spanish version of Mardi Gras, because the happy Catholic period we call Lent begins on Ash Wednesday this week. The Spanish (well, the Basques...I haven´t interacted with mainland Spaniards) are a funny bunch. Because they´re so darn Catholic, they party party party (sin?) approximately 325 days a year...and on the other 40, they atone for the partying with a very solemn Lenten period. I´m curious to see whether I´ll be able to buy meat on Fridays, for instance, or whether the bars lose business.
And when they party, they party. between Friday night and Sunday afternoon there were about 6 cumulative hours where there were less than 30 people in view and no music could be heard. During the rest of carnaval, everyone left their houses disfrazados (disguised) to join the festivities. I saw Arabs and cowboys in the same brass band playing Louie Louie. I saw a platform on wheels that 10 teenage boys were dragging around town, on which they held a faux-jousting tournament. I saw babies dressed as pirates and flamenco dancers and lollipops, and many manly men wearing boobs and wigs and pantyhose.
There was un desfile (parade) that blocked all the streets in El Centro on Saturday and Sunday. I´m used to parades involving floats, professional dancers, lights and confetti. These things were sort of involved here, but it was moreso an excuse for 17-year-olds to wear belly shirts and excessive make-up and dance in front of the city. It was entertaining, definitely, but a lot of it repetitive and silly. One group did Moulin Rouge, another King Arthur, another Wizard of Oz, Narnia, three musketeers...My favorite was, for lack of a better word, the ¨star¨section. Their costumes were hand-made from purple styrofoam and kitchen straws sticking out in every direction from their bodies. They kept running into each other, but boy were they happy to be alive and ¨shining.¨The danced to everything from Queen to Barbie Girl by Aqua.
Apart from the parade, small families and clubs and bands (called fanfares, who came from all over Euskal Herria= walked around town (specifically our Parte Vieja) with themed costumes. The hippie group made me the happiest. They wore long blonde wigs and earrings and skirts and carried guitars. They dragged around a volkswagen made of cardboard and painted pink, and the BEST part...they played some of my favorites on a boombox: California Girls, California Dreamin´, Twist and Shout...
The music was phenomenal. I don´t know how 50% of the city is musically gifted. I´m serious, the majority of the revelers had a trombone or an excellent voice or a gift for harmony. A lot of them made their way down our alley. Yeah, I was just ecstatic. This was my favorite moment of the entire weekend. A group of us was celebrating Aude´s birthday (cutie blonde from France) when we heard music approaching the flat. This wasn´t unusual, but Marie called my attention to it anyway, and I am so glad I checked it out. I swear the entire 20-something population of the city was jumping and spinning and shaking its way down our alley to the beat of 10-or-so snare and base drums and tamborines. Everyone was of course in full costume, and the joy and youth seemed to fill the air. I was beaming and screaming and dancing and failing to take a video because my hands were shaking so much. I just wanted to leap off the balcony (but I decided I valued my life) and join them.
I did not want to join the biker (as in bicycle) gang wearing naked man suits. It reminded me too much of another instance. There were 5 of them, all between 25 and 35, wearing felt, skin-colored full body suits, complete with chest hair and the exaggerated part between the legs. I was too chicken to take their picture as they came toward me, but I did get their backs.
Hannah and I shared a sweet moment when strolling down the Boulevard when we hit a group of older couples tango-ing. She explained to me later (she did ballroom dance and knows this stuff) that it makes sense; you never see younger couples tango-ing b/c it's a very intimate, familiar dance...not like salsa or merengue, which are more flirty. These couples were obviously in love, but the sappy, giddy love young people feel. They danced with feeling, with wisdom. It was electric; I was drawn to the circle, and for a second I longed to be an old woman dancing with her husband of 50 years. But only for a second. For now, I love living in the moment called SPAIN.
Kursaal, the large glass building that acts as an exposition hall and theatre, was lit up in rainbow colors in honor of carnaval. Era fantastico. The only place not completely crowded (there were a million youngins still out at 4am in Parte Vieja on Saturday night/Sunday morning) was the Jesus Mountain, A.K.A. Monte Urgull, which Hannah and I climbed sleepily on Sunday afternoon. I was part of secret garden...or back in Guatemala, only much cooler and more peaceful than a volcano :). At the summit there were 5 or so people wandering peacefully around, enjoying the foggy view of the city below. Drum echoes and laughter still found their way to our ears, even from the top of the "mountain." I will definitely hike it multiple times (Jesus stands protectively on top).