XMATKUIL, YUCATAN. It was supposed to be the glorious
inauguration of the ‘new’ Carnaval Mérida,
and proof of the success of Mayor Renan Barrera’s grand scheme to relocate the
event to the Xmatkuil fairgrounds. Instead however, the opening night of ‘Carnaval Mérida 2014’ was nothing short
of a disaster, leaving in its wake a trail of broken promises.
The ‘Funeral of Juan
Carnaval’, the closing event of the carnival celebrations in Mérida isn’t until
Wednesday; last night’s pathetic inauguration might as well have been an actual
funeral however; assuming that is that one is used to attending funerals in the
middle of the jungle.
The Comité del Carnaval de Mérida and mayor
Renan Barrera have today posted closely shot and carefully screened photos on
their Facebook pages, purporting to show the ‘fun’ that the attendees had, with
similar coverage in the ever obedient ‘Diario
de Yucatan’. The reality however was very different to that pictured, with
miles of empty palcos and gradas standing witness to Renan’s great
mistake.
Getting there was easy
enough; in fact, to our surprise, we flew down Calle 50 in record time. Once we
realized how few people were at the fairgrounds however, the lack of traffic
didn’t seem so strange. Buying seats in a palco
was also a breeze, with all ticket windows vacant, and the sellers hustling for
custom. We entered the fairgrounds unchallenged and unscreened – broken promise
number 1 – “attendees to be screened for knives and other weapons to ensure a
‘secure’ event.”
We took our seats at
7.15pm, 15 minutes after the scheduled parade start time. Unlike on Paseo de Montejo,
where music was always playing, and anticipation high, silence reigned in
Section Q, as indeed it did in most other areas. The crickets in the
surrounding jungle provided some background noise; the ambiance being one of
‘bus stop in the jungle’ rather than ‘party of the year’. The bus however, was
apparently delayed, perhaps while the organizers desperately prayed for more
attendees to fill the vast quantity of empty seats. Whichever deity they were entreating
however appeared to be otherwise occupied, since the empty seats remained
empty, while the crickets continued to sing. The parade finally began at
8.15pm, and advanced painfully slowly along the route, moving for 15 or 20
meters, before unfathomably stopping for interminable periods. Even with these
interminable stops, the parade passed in an hour and 20 minutes; leading to
speculation that the reason for the stops was to avoid it being over too soon;
had it moved at a normal pace throughout, it would have been over in no more
than 45 minutes. A (poor quality) video, shot from one of the floats, shows the
sparse audience in one of the sections of gradas.
It can be seen here: http://tinyurl.com/kvh3b82
In addition to the
small quantity, sadly, the quality of the floats and costumes was also low; the
sponsors presumably unwilling to invest much in an event that, since the start,
has been foreseen as a likely failure. It was, without a doubt, the smallest
and poorest carnival parade I have ever seen in Mérida. There were fewer
floats, less feathers, less glitter, less music. Basically, less of everything.
During the parade, we noticed broken promise number 2 – “no beer to be sold on
the parade grounds” – both beer vendors (Sol
and Corona) were openly selling beer
in the palcos, with uniformed staff
desperately hunting for customers. I purchased a couple for myself to try to
relieve the stultifying boredom. Broken promise number 3 was also in evidence –
“no coolers will be allowed into the event”.
Like a dog with its
tail between its legs, the parade ended with a whimper, and the sparse crowds
headed back into the fairgrounds, eager to experience the fun and excitement
promised by ‘Plaza Carnaval’ and its
four distinct zones of pleasure for all ages.
The Xmatkuil fairgrounds cover a vast area, and, without the physical
barriers that exist on Paseo de Montejo, keeping people together, sparse groups
drifted through the empty spaces, seeking, but failing to find any atmosphere.
Broken promise number 4 – “the grounds will be divided by zones, each will have
a filter, where entry may be denied to people who appear under the influence of
alcohol” – there were no obvious divisions between the zones, and there were no
filters. Beer vendors, including mobile carts were everywhere. Broken promise
number 5 – “the adult zone will be exclusively for those over the age of 18” –
small children could be seen playing outside the all but abandoned ‘KeBuena Circo de la Música’.
A decent crowd had
gathered at the ‘Salón de las Máscaras’
to see the opening concert featuring well known singer Yuri. Not surprisingly,
the crowd at the concert features heavily in the Facebook postings of the
Comité del Carnaval de Mérida and mayor Renan Barrera today.
Away from the area of
the concert however, vast empty spaces, empty restaurants, and vendors without
customers were the grim reality. In addition
to the pictures in this article, more can be seen here: http://tinyurl.com/kbzkbko
At the exit, glum
faced survey takers were asking the opinion of people leaving. The expression
on the face of our questioner left us in no doubt as to what opinions she had
been receiving.
The ‘cherry on the
cake’ was the (entirely predictable) ‘retén’
shortly after leaving the parking lot, where breathalyzer tests were
administered to all drivers. With my ‘designated driver’, I sailed through,
however one wonders how many others were caught, and how many of them would
have been walking home rather than driving, had the event taken place in the
city. I wonder if the Mayor has ever checked the dictionary definition of
‘entrapment’? (“In criminal law, entrapment is a practice whereby officials
induce a person to commit an offense that the person would have otherwise been
unlikely to commit.”)
Over in Veracruz
meanwhile, where they still remember the meaning of carnival, vast crowds are
thronging the events centered along the city’s famous malecón. It’s not so far from here, but ideologically, it could be
another planet.
What else to say? Social
media in Mérida today is full of individuals reporting the death of carnival, a
major event in the city since the 19th century.
If Renan Barrera has
any sense and indeed any ‘cojones,’
(not sure what it means? Google will enlighten you…) he will admit he was
wrong, and swiftly announce plans to return the event to the center of the city
in 2015. He still has time to admit the error and correct it, and in doing so,
to save his legacy. His myriad detractors would doubtless think better of him
if he makes the courageous decision. If he does not, then February 28, 2014,
will indeed go down in history as the day that carnival died, and the decision
to make the change will become the albatross around the mayor’s neck. If he
wants to know what that will feel like, he just needs to ask former mayor
Angelica Araujo Lara how that ‘free’ Shakira concert worked out for her…
Oh, and if he does
not, I’ll be reporting from Veracruz next year.
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