Carnival in Otavalo

Carnival in Otavalo was crazy, loco, nuspa, and very fun. We spent five nights there and after reading Leif´s recounting of the events, I don´t feel as though I need to elaborate on what he wrote very much. He did an amazing job of bringing to life the events of the time spent there. Read it here. And once you´ve read that, come back and read the rest here. And since in about three more days we will be reuniting with Leif for the rest of our trip, you might as well bookmark his blog, cause events will be shared and he is an amazing writer.

The last day of Carnival.
Kelly and I spend the morning putzing around the amazing indiginous market, trying on sweaters, pants, rings, all at bargainable, low prices. Every restaurant is closed for lunch, because everyone is fiestaing. As we stroll the streets, the memory of our adventure the day before to the waterfall fresh in our minds, we keep a constant eye out for attackers. They strike from every direction with water balloons, buckets of water, flower, dye. We look at rooftops, store fronts, our feet where mini attackers threaten with water balloons, even though half the time they drop them on their own feet. We buy some bread, mayo and tuna at a tienda and head back stealthily to the hotel. As our floured, dyed, and wet clothes hang from the day before we prepare lunch and sit back and read for a bit.

The afternoon rolls in and Leif has finished classes and brought his homestay brother with him to the hotel. Knowing it is the last day of festivities, I have smartly changed back into my battle uniform and as I return from the bathroom Leif and Jorge are ready with water balloons...
¨No, no, no¨ I say and back away with my hands up, palms out, ready to deflect.
They smile and fake, not yet, they head to fill up more water balloons. I use this time to my advantage and grab the spray foam can left over from the day before.
I give them a friendly spatter of foam, all in good fun.
Leif hucks a balloon at my back when I let my guard down...it´s on.
I fill his face with foam, and Jorge threatens both of us. Okay, okay time to head to Jorge´s house where a war is being waged in the streets.
On the way Jorge pops a balloon on my back...can´t trust anyone.
When we get to the street a mob of tiny ecuadorian kids rush at us with buckets of water, spilling more on themselves than is left over in the bucket.
Jorge just barely gets the door open in time and we take our posts up above, where we pelt water balloons at them till we run out and have to resort to using buckets down on the street like them. By the time we are all completely soaked Jorge´s dad rolls up in a truck and we all pile in with a huge garbage can of water. We´re off.
We spend the next hour (maybe two?) completely soaked, crouched in the back of an uncomfortable truck. We throw water at teams set up on every corner and roof top. Our forces are no match, they have hoses, unlimited resources, and they can run. Water balloons are pelted at us from every direction...and they kinda hurt. More than half the time we are riding in the truck we don´t even have water left, so pretty much we are just there to get crap thrown at us. Freezing, crouched, unarmed, and smiling the biggest smile, Leif, Jorge and I keep glancing at each other and spouting our motto...¨Que tonto!¨ How stupid!