Maypole Madness

May is a very special month in Bluefields. In fact, the largest festival of the year takes place of the course of the month. Every weekend there are large fiestas in the streets and the barrios (neighborhoods) take turns hosting the party and attempting to show up last week's events. Last night the party took place in the oldest neighborhood and was organized by the bluefields sound system boys. Our group got there a little late for the live performances, but just in time for the maypole dancing.

A large group of us had only just arrived when the announcer began requesting that "all them white girls come dance maypole." Seeing as Stephanie and myself were the only gringas to be seen, we had little choice but to be ushered towards the brightly decorated tree they had installed in the middle of the cobblestone road. I'm not sure if any of you have every encountered Caribbean style maypole dancing before, but it's a trip! Basically, it's a combination of African rhythm gyrations, hip-hop grinding and a ferocious battle of the sexes. Stephanie and I managed to keep our dancing reasonably PG, despite the crowds of men pulsating around us, but we certainly weren't prepared for the show that followed. As the real Caribbean ladies stepped it up, the crowds went wild and the dancers followed suit. I was stunned to see a very voluptuous lady trap her man against the maypole and begin ramming herself against him hard enough to shake the whole tree. Not too much later, several of the men began throwing themselves across the floor, knees bent and arms in the air shaking everything they had while the girls danced above them. At one point, someone climbed right up the maypole and was dancing with his feet in midair while suspended from the branches above. It was as if the gods had let loose their hold on the world and all manner of wild spirits had swarmed up to take control.

Unfortunately, along with the wild dancing and battling of the sexes comes some rather rampant drunkenness and high tempers. From the few nights I've been out on the town, it's rather apparent that fist fights are a nightly occurrence. After a few small shoving matches between various individuals, one of the fights erupted into a full-fledged boxing match that left one man being carried out holding his wounded head in his hands. That pretty much ended the party since half the crowd accompanied the injured man and the rest scattered throughout the barrio.

Not ready to call it a night, but finding it too early for Four Brothers, we migrated to LaLa (aka midnight dream). This place is probably my favorite so far. The entrance is located at the end of a large sloping driveway and through a chainlink fence. The first room you come to is literally pulsating with music that shakes the floor and is occasionally accompanied by a very loud foghorn. If you can maintain your hearing as you walk through the main dancefloor, you pass through to a slightly quieter space filled with tables of dimly lit figures. A few more steps brings you out to the deck and finally brings the music down to a reasonable volume as the sky opens up and moonlight floods your view of the bay. Settling in at a table, we passed a few hours sharing stories, dancing to the best songs and enjoying the nearly full moon.

As midnight rolled around and the staff began putting away chairs, our dream had to end and the party moved on. Almost everyone continued on to Four Brothers, but my stomach had finally gotten a proper "welcome to Nicaragua" message and I decided it'd be best to head home. A few of us piled into a cab and were shortly at our doors. A few more pleasant moments were spent sleepily chatting in the hippie room before finally calling it a night. For the first time since I arrived, it was cool enough to fall asleep without turning on the fan. I slept like a baby.