New Year's Eve

In the previous post I mentioned the road-blocking, people-charging individuals who celebrate the New Year doing just that.  However, as innocent as that might have seemed, which it most certainly wasn't, the extortion on New Year's Eve night was far, far worse.  And yet, it wasn't the blatant outwresting of money that stole the show, rather it was the individuals who did so.  On our ride through the highlands, the Indian men, those who dressed up as women instead of wearing masks, wore the traditional Indian woman garb, a knee-length, wool, black skirt.  Nothing too noteworthy, particularly with any previous exposure to men in kilts.  But the "men," for I hesitate to call them that, who held up the grid-locked city at every intersection donned wigs, make-up, fake breasts, and short, tight, strapless dresses.  Then, perhaps in an effort to make the car ride worth the peoples' money, they grinded on the hood of people's cars, put their leg on the hood and grabbed their crotch, bent over and squeezed their fake-cleavage together, or danced with each other in a fashion that is found in the back corners of skeevy dance clubs for a reason.  One of the most tame outfits of the night were the men who wore red and yellow thongs on top of black stockings.

Here are some mild images.  At each intersection there was a group of "men."  Some of them were organized in matching outfits and performed a group dance.  Despite the risque moves, the one or two groups out of many who did this were a welcome change.

This group, on the main road going downtown, included the traditional element of paper-mache sculptures in their car-stopping performances.  You can see the cars and bus that started to line up.  The sculpture is to their left.  It was a fifteen foot tall, Iron Man.

The latter group's Iron Man.  Many were quite impressive.  Movies are often used as inspiration.  We saw multiple Iron Mans, Avatar figures, and Toy Story figures.  The police department, which creates a stage of sculptures, did the main cast of the movie Twilight.  There are also just as many political figures, often the president, who have manifestos written below them from the peoples' prospective.

Buzz and Woody.

Most vehicles had the paper-mache figures on their roof, hood, or tied to their bumper.  Some had dogs, Sponge-Bob, or random figures too.

The streets were packed with cars and passersby.  The main street downtown was filled with vendors of food, clothing, shoes, and New Year's Eve paraphernalia including masks and sparklers.  The white truck has sneakers spilling out of the back of it.

We did not take many pictures because not paying attention to your surroundings was dangerous.  We were with Guillermo, Monica, their daughter Lily and her boyfriend, Javier, their adopted daughter, Delia and her young daughter, and three teenage girls.  Guillermo walked ahead and had Lily and Javier walk behind us to get us out of trouble if we walked into it.  Unfortunately, despite zig-zagging the streets, the crowds, and the cars, trouble could not be avoided.  Back to the cross-dressers.  I asked Guillermo just how drunk the "men" were.  He replied, "Not at all."  He then preached on how hard they work all year long, they need to have fun, and this is nice for them.  Now, if individuals want to cross-dress and dance disgustingly and if the city of 300,000 people wants to flock in their cars and to the streets with their young children to witness this, so be it.  But the moment that the "fun" extends into the crowd, the moment I believed Guillermo that the "men" weren't drunk because I was close enough to smell the lack of alcohol on their breath, that's when an uncomfortable situation became a threatening one.  That's when laughing in disgust and disbelief transitioned into me on guard, literally.

It seems another common practice is for the "men" to take the lap-dances they gave the cars and provide them to the individuals trying to walk down the street.  They only target other men. As you can imagine, Andy stuck out quite a bit.  What the women are supposed to do is pay them to leave the men alone.  What I realized very quickly is that very few "men" wanted the money without first rubbing themselves on Andy.  Instantaneously, I went into a protective mode.  It was like a bully was picking on my brothers on the bus.  I swerved from Andy's right and left blocking the men off from him.  When that didn't work I grabbed one by the waist and threw him off.  I warded others with my arm like I was on the football field.  I flat out shoved a couple on the chest with their shirts and fake breasts coming off in the process.  It was bad.  On the route back we took every side street imaginable.  Andy claimed it was not to protect us from them, but rather to protect them from me.  Guillermo, who just kind of reciprocated the dancing, didn't quite understand my reaction.  There were two "men" who did just take my money, leave Andy alone, and said thank you.  Another persistent bugger didn't and looked confused when I glared at him and put my arm up, though he seemed entertained when I threw the coin down his fake-cleavage.  Guillermo and entourage found that amusing as well.  It did not get to the point where Andy, who appeared to be in shut-down mode or surprised by my actions, needed to engage.  Nor did it get to the point of throwing punches or kneeing them in the groin.  As controlled and measured our actions were, it was, none the less, rather violent and unpleasant.  I dreaded each street corner.

We had left the compound at about 7:00pm and returned at about 9:30pm.  We ate a delicious meal of turkey, gravy, fried rice, and mashed potatoes.  There was also a spiced, fruit cake and an orange cake that one of Monica's clients did not pick up that day.  Below is a picture of that one.  She decorated it herself.  Then, we conversed with Guillermo for 2.5 hours until midnight, all the while ready for bed.

The fried rice which we ate for lunch the following day.  It has bacon in it.  Bacon, like butter, makes all things better.

The orange cake.

Here is a sample paper-mache person that a family might have.

At midnight, the paper-mache figures are burned figuratively as the year that just came to a close.  The sidewalks were full of these burning figures.  On the corner in front of the compound, our group joined a family from church as they burned their paper-mache person.  After rounds of, "Happy New Year!" were exchanged, Guillermo broke out in Adeste Fideles as we helped clean up from dinner and carried some leftovers home.

When we returned home, the highlight of the night turned out to be my ichat with my brothers shortly after midnight.  They were at a New Year's Eve party and ushered me around the room of well-wishing, familiar faces.  It was nice to share a holiday with more of my family, even if the music was a bit loud.  I miss them.

Here we are before we left the apartment that night, ignorant of the extent of "festivities" yet to come.