I was woken by the sound of a cow in our yard one lovely morning in Montañita . Well, it wasn’t actually the cow, since they are relatively quiet animals, and when they do offer the occasional outburst it doesn’t normally rudely jar one awake. No, I was woken by the sound of the pack of dogs in our yard trying to attack the cow.
“Attack” is really an exaggeration, giving a bit too much credit to the canines. You see, Latin American dogs hate cows. They actually seem to get along just fine with cats here, as their aggressions have been directed elsewhere. I don’t know the source of this animosity, but let a cow stroll into the neighborhood, and it is clear it exists.
This actually brings up another point altogether, and perhaps a bit of explanation into the motive of the dogs. Cows do seem to stroll into the neighborhood quite often. Now, we lived on a small street off of the main road, with the beach on one side and hotels on the other. The only way into our street is by way of the road, as every hotel has a fence behind it. So in order to wander into our street, the cows actually need to turn in off of the highway, the same as every other vehicle. They could, of course, come in off the beach, as this is another of their popular hang-outs. This, however, would require the bovines to navigate the set of stairs at our beachfront, then find their way past the bar, around the hotel and onto the street. While I don’t discount the initiative and creativity of the local cows, I as yet have not seen this done. So, they appear to be turning in off the highway. This appears to bother the dogs as much as it confuses me.
The dogs, however, do not actually attack the cows. While they do grow braver as their numbers increase, the antics never truly evolve beyond running circles around the cows while making as much noise as possible.
The cows generally ignore the pestering dogs, but inevitable reach a point of annoyance causing them to slightly charge in their direction. By “charge” I mean that they typically turn in the direction of the offending canine, and perhaps take a step forward. This is normally sufficient to cause the dog to retreat in fear for a second, before joining the pack, and continuing to run in circles. At this point a distinct “Did you guys see that?!” can be heard from the barking. “Wow, he almost got me!” he’ll bark, without realizing the extent of the danger he was actually in. A kick to the head of a dog by the hoof of a cow would most certainly split the little yapper’s head wide, perhaps teaching the pack a lesson. But, no, the cows have risen above this nonsense.
The Cow-Dog-Charade reminds me all too much of a scene I witnessed in Nicaragua a few years back. Kelly and I were lucky enough to be in a tiny town on Isla de Omotepe called Altagracia for the week of their annual festival honoring the patron saint of the town. We’ve been fortunate enough to see a number of different festivals of similar nature throughout Latin America, and they are all spectacular in many different ways. Unlike Carnival or Semana Santa, large festivals bringing in tourists far and wide, these local festivals are exactly that: local. Depending on the size of the town, vendors may travel from other parts of the country, carnival rides may be present, but the festival is for the people of the town to honor their patron saint. (He is usually honored with alcohol and fireworks, but I’ll get to that later).
The Altagracia festival was similar too all the others, however this town had a rodeo in the midst of it’s festival grounds. Kelly and I decided this couldn’t be missed. It was a small arena, and we were packed in tightly with the locals up against the chain-link fence separating us from the show. The typical rodeo entertainment (or what I considered typical rodeo entertainment, as I’ve never seen a rodeo before – yes, it was my first rodeo) ensued, and then the wild, angry bulls emerged. They were actually quite skinny and sad looking, but angry nonetheless. As they entered the ring, all of the braver young men of the town would jump into the ring and taunt the bull however they could, mostly by running around in circles and making a bunch of noise. The men would get cheers, and, bolstered in confidence by the crowd, taunt the angry bull some more. The bull needed to merely look in the direction of its taunters to send gasps through the crowd and cause the young men to flee screaming in all directions, frantically climbing the fence to safety. Once the bull diverted his attention elsewhere, the men would rejoin the pack in the ring, cheerfully barking “Did you guys see that?!”, “Wow, he almost got me!”
As with the cow in Montañita, my allegiances in this charade most certainly lay with the bovine.
Festival time in Montañita brings similar antics to Ecuador, minus the Rodeo. However, as we were lucky enough to witness, the lack of an actual Rodeo does not in any way inhibit the townsfolk from engaging in the antics of putting their bravado on display. No, the presence of anything resembling a rodeo would have only been distracting to this display.
The festival of Montañita is celebrated in the usual way, with lots of quickly erected booths offering up the exact same street fare as their neighbors, and their neighbors, and their neighbors. It’s as if, when deciding to set up a vending booth for a street fare, you are given a kit and instructions for appearance which you follow to a tee. (tea? I never understood this phrase).
“Oh, you are going to be selling fried chicken this year? Well, we will all be serving a tiny overcooked breast in a small bag with french fries, covered in mayo and ketchup for $1.50. Got it? And be sure to set your booth adjacent to the other twelve fried chicken vendors. If you spread out, we may not know where to find you.”
The scary carnival rides were also the same as any other Latin American town I’ve seen. Mostly held together with wire and rusty nails (I almost said duct tape, before remembering what a luxury item duct tape is in certain parts of the world) and powered by a tractor. Not a tractor engine, but an actual tractor. Or by hand, if you’re lucky enough to encounter one of these safer alternatives. See, the thing about powering your ride with a tractor is that it can turn waaaaaaay faster than it ever should, making the normally child friendly, gentle ride of a Ferris Wheel into a maniacal deathtrap. That goes backwards and forward.
And, as with most festivals, the most common site is drunken old men laying in corners of the street, and drunker young men staggering about with their arms about one another.
So, the festival of Montañita was shaping up like most, up until the piece de resistance, which we had been awaiting all week, known as Vaca Loca.
Crazy Cow.
If I haven’t mentioned before, Ecuadorians, as all Latin Americans, love fireworks. And, unlike the Guatemalans I’ve known, who generally must contend with glorified noise makers and m80s, the Ecuadorians have real fireworks. I have no idea where they get them and how they afford them, but they do.
All along the town’s main square, in front of the church, are several dozen large creature-like things made of fireworks. I don’t know how else to explain them. Think paper mache, but with more gunpowder. As the festivities commence, several of these are lit, in the middle of the crowd. The person in control of each of these lights their effigy-rocket at will, and runs through the crowd emitting a shower of sparks. This goes on for a while, until the moment the Vaca Loca makes its appearance.
The Vaca Loca is huge, about the size of a full grown man (regular sized, not Ecuadorian). A full grown (Ecuadorian sized) man sits inside the beast, so it covers him almost completely, but he can still use his legs. As the frenzied crowd cheers on, the Cow is lit, and we’re off!
The Vaca begins to pace about in front of the onlookers as sparks fly from it in every direction. A virtual deluge of fire shoots from his head as he charges the spectators. Men, women and children run in every direction as they are nearly engulfed in flames. Some of the braver young men run into the street to challenge the Vaca, only to run screaming as the white hot heat singes them, almost igniting each challenger while he dives to safety.
“Did you guys see that?!”, “Wow, he almost got me!”
However, unlike the rodeo, there is no sanctuary from this beast. The Cow pursues his challengers into the crowd, spraying fire in every direction. Children are thrust in its path as parents desperately try to escape.
The relentless Vaca continues his onslaught until, alas, he runs out of steam, and is left a hollow, burnt up shell of chicken wire and paper mache. The crowd cheers in victory!
At this point the tower of fire is lit, and things really start to heat up.
Did I mention that the town is built of bamboo and thatched roofs?
The moral of this story? If you are going to tease a bull, you best be able to flee quickly, and make sure your friends are watching.