Strictly come dancing

Cuenca, Ecuador
[by Paula]

A great many things have happened on this trip that could not have been predicted. In fact, the majority of happenings were not foreseen, but some are more surprising than others.

So when I was standing watching Jeremy change from his jeans and t-shirt into an 11-piece Bolivian dancing outfit, including big flappy woolly Andean trousers, poncho, a belt adorned with bells, wooden platform shoes with spurs and an outrageously camp hat, I thought: “Yeah, this is definitely right up there with all the other ‘things-we-didn’t-see-coming’.”

I wasn’t doing too badly myself, with my wool dress and pinny, headband and wide-brimmed sombrero flowing with multi-coloured ribbons.

In the way that only they can – quietly unassuming, yet without options for refusal – our Bolivia hosts Emma and Rolando had persuaded us to take part in the traditional Pujllay dance at the local town festival in Mallasa. Of course we wouldn’t have refused. It was a privilege and a one-off chance to experience a culture from within a small community, with friends who could show us the ropes. Obviously it was also a chance for some public humiliation, and who would pass that up?

It was a serious business – rehearsals began about two weeks before, and took place in the street. Different dance groups vied for space in Mallasa’s Calle 5, while the music belted out of a PA system dragged out onto the street corner. Along with the other gringo volunteers working for Emma and Rolando’s projects, we shuffled around trying to look like we knew what we were doing.

Not only was the festival a large parade for the spectator’s enjoyment, it was a dancing competition and source of community pride. At the very least we had to aspire to avoid totally embarrassing Emma and Rolando in front of their friends and neighbours.

The men had to leap around for hours wearing wooden blocks on their feet.

On the night before the festival we all gathered to view our costumes and learn how to put them on – they were highly valuable and, as is tradition, the organisers (chosen each year from the community) had virtually bankrupted themselves to pay for the event and after-parties.

In the Pujllay, the men have to wear rather intimidating wooden blocks on their feet and jump around warrior-like, their heavy spurs jangling. They strapped them on and had a first ‘shoe rehearsal’. The overwhelming consensus was that someone would break an ankle before the day was out.

Despite some nasty weather in the fortnight running up to the event, we all gathered on Sunday afternoon in unbroken sunshine. Bolivians have an uncanny knack for predicting the weather, and we had been assured “it never rains on fiesta day”. They were right, again.

The streets were lined with spectators, food vendors and crates of beer for sale. We had a swift cold one to garner ourselves, lined up in our groups as the band got going behind us, and set off down the main street.

Mallasa is not a large town – in bigger fiestas in La Paz, dancers will parade for miles – but we were pretty hot and exhausted by the time we reached the judges’ platform, yet we were only half way. We smiled like mad and tried to look proficient. It was amusing to watch people’s faces as we swooshed past – there go the gringos!

Every now and again I craned my neck to see the men’s group dancing behind us – occasionally seeing Jeremy’s hat bobbing around at several inches higher than everyone elses.

Jeremy enjoys a relaxing beer after the dancing ends.

The atmosphere was fantastic. People handed drinks to the dancers, and when we reached the end a crate was bought and guzzled in the street. We had our first opportunity then to watch some of the other groups coming past, doing different dances in a whole array of outlandish costumes.

Then we were off again! One of the best moments was dancing back through the town to make our entrance at the after-party. I temporarily joined the men’s group, stomping through the now darkened streets with increasing velocity, no doubt spurred on by the promise of more alcohol at the party. We made a loud and energetic entrance, congratulated ourselves and settled in for the free bar.

Cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz

Clara’s mum, working at the flower market, La Paz

Cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz

In the preceding weeks I had been doing some research for a BBC article about Bolivia’s ‘cholitas’ (en español)  – indigenous/mestizo women who dress in fascinating and distinctive outfits of bowler hats, layered skirts and shawls. One of their noticeable characteristics is that, although formidable in some ways, they are quite reserved people, not given to easily trusting strangers or behaving brashly in public. However, Emma had assured me that a Bolivian party would certainly involve a host of drunken cholita revellers letting their hair down. I found this very hard to imagine.

But within a couple of hours, a whole gaggle of cholitas – resplendent in their identical pink fiesta outfits – had dragged Jeremy and I onto the dancefloor. As we did a kind of conga around their crates of beer, swigging from plastic cups as we went, I thought: “Yeah, this is right up there with all the other ‘things-we-didn’t-see-coming’.”

Don’t be fooled. These elegant cholitas got stuck into the beers at the party later.

The festival was particularly special for us because we would be leaving the village in two weeks. We’d made the decision to return to Ecuador for reasons of an expiring visa and to, erm, Sort Out Our Van. For anyone who has – understandably – lost track of our mysterious campervan, it’s still in Quito and has been for many many months.

There will be more on that later, but we had to get back there and either see through a final attempt to fix it, or make alternative arrangements.

Suddenly it felt like we had a lot to do before we left. We had an unusually large volume of freelance journalism work to do, and there were a lot of jobs to complete on Emma and Rolando’s soon-to-be-opened campsite, including marketing and publicity materials. Jeremy designed leaflets and a logo, and we twiddled and tweaked the website. Signs were designed and made, and we started putting the word out to other websites and blogs.

We met our very capable replacements on the project, Don and Rochelle, and managed to find time for some important training, such as How To Drink A Lot of Wine.

On our last evening, Rochelle – who claims to normally be a light drinker – declared that she had “never left our house sober”.

Our work in Jupapina was done. It was time to move on.

The Mendoza-Donlans gave us a fondue farewell.

A series of farewells only served to underline how many lovely friends we’d made – to mention but a few; the entertaining and ever-helpful Anita, Anahi and Raquel from Up Close Bolivia, our housemate Naomi – who broke her cooking embargo to make us a delicious Spanish meal before we left – and Verity, who arrived in January and soon sniffed out our shared love of food, wine and chat. Sadly, by this time Alison and Doug had return to the frozen north (Canada) and could only weep at the thought of our Singani cocktails on the terrace.

Clara and Geovanna, who worked in Emma and Rolando’s house, cooked hearty and delicious lunches for us every day and listened patiently to our bad Spanish.

And of course Emma, Rolando, David and Bell, who took us out for a sublime palpatation-inducing fondue lunch before we left. They also hosted a big gathering of all the volunteers, plus Clara and Geovanna and their families – with chori-pan (barbequed sausages on bread rolls) and choclo (sweetcorn) and lots of lovely speeches!

Facing a 30-hour bus journey to Lima, Peru, at 8am on Sunday, we made the sensible decision to have a night out with Emma and Rolando the evening before we left. “It won’t be a late one,” said Emma.

As we crawled into bed just before 2am, I thought: “I definitely saw that coming.”

Days: 875
Van miles: 17,551 (to Ecuador – where the van remains for now)
Non-van miles!: 9,909
Things we now know to be true: If a cholita tells you to dance, you dance.

BUMPER CROP OF PHOTOS IN TWO GALLERIES BELOW – CHOLITAS, PLUS THE FESTIVAL AND GOODBYE JUPAPINA. Many thanks to Rochelle and Verity for taking lots of photos for us on fiesta day.

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CHOLITAS

Striking a pose before the cholita fashion show begins in El Alto, La Paz

Showing off the swirl of her pollera before the cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz.

Doing the all-important plaits before a cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz.

Models pose before the ‘pasarela, cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz.

Discussing which shawls (mantas) to select, cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz.

Getting ready to go on stage, cholita fashion show, El Alto, La Paz.

The fashion show in El Alto showcases some of the more elaborate and expensive cholita fashions and jewellery.

The sombrero is one of the most distinctive parts of the cholita ensemble.

Jewellery is a hugely important accessory for a cholita.

A specialist cholita model agency was recently set up in La Paz.

Rosario Aguilar – cholita model agent, lawyer, and former city politician.

Norma Barrancos Leyva, an Aymara radio journalist whom I interviewed for the BBC article.

Bolivia: I interviewed Norma Barrancos Leyva for a BBC article on cholitas.

Many indigenous Bolivian women carry a cloth filled with goods on their back.

Cholita waiting for a boat, Copacabana, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia.

Cholitas are fascinating to outsiders, but are nothing more than the norm in Bolivia.

Clara’s mum Carmen Mamani de Espejo, a cholita who cultivates and sells flowers in La Paz.

Clara’s mum Carmen Mamani de Espejo, who has stunning gold hearts on her teeth.

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FESTIVAL OF MALLASA AND GOODBYE JUPAPINA

Jeremy gets into his 11-piece Pujllay outfit.

Anahi and Anita show us how it’s done.

Yes dear, you look very nice with your pink hankerchiefs.

Emma opted to dance in the men’s group this year. More fool her!

Rocking their Pujllay hats.

All the Up Close volunteers and staff plus us, Emma, Rolando and Bell.

Locals and dancers wait for the festival to get going.

Each dance group had different outfits.

Mallasa’s cholitas were out in full bling for the fiesta.

It wouldn’t be a fiesta without music.

Angelic mini-Pujllay dancer.

Bolivia: Our housemate Naomi at the Malls dance festival

The men’s horrendous dancing shoes – they made a great noise though!

Bolivian dance festival: Deep concentration as we wait for the next step.

The music kept us going.

Dancing the Pujllay together.

He’s behind you…!

Some of the costumes were just downright bizarre.

Rochelle becomes acquainted with some of the locals.

Cholitas were out in full force at the fiesta – both as dancers and spectators.

Are these my colours..?

We made it!

One for the family photo album…

Jeremy shows off his lovely poncho thingy.

Anticuchos for sale – grilled cow hearts with potato and spicy sauce.

Making signs for the campsite toilets.

Bolivia: Giovanna, Marcelo, Zoe and William (Santa played by Doug)

Bolivia: Clara with her daughter Naomi and mum Carmen.

Farewell and thanks to our Alasitas ‘fixer’ Anita – slap up lunch of fricase and chicharron.

Saying bye bye to Jupapina, for now – Jeremy with Emma and Rolando, plus Molly, Naomi, Raquel, Verity, Saskia and Sam.

Rolando and Anahi’s dad Luis get the chorizos going for our chori-pan leaving party.

Pre-drinks drink at the Pigsty with Verity, Rochelle and Don.

One last look at the view we woke up to every day in Jupapina.