This Sunday morning in St. George's, we had a very civilized breakfast consumed to the sounds of various church services going on ashore. Nothing like last weekend.
I figure that Carnival in Grenada is carefully planned to span the outer limits of the people's ability to party: Friday night, the SOCA contest; Saturday night, Pan Bands contest and a concert; Sunday night and Monday morning, Jouvert (Joovay); and Monday and Tuesday are parade days. There was also a Calypso night in there somewhere. We went ashore and joined in for some of it, and had a great spot for watching the rest of the activity, less than a 1/4 mile from shore, and we were definitely within range of all the music going.
We were keen to hear the pan band competition on the big sports field about a half a mile from the lagoon, and I'd heard that we could buy tickets at the movie theatre. Ads or radio promotion would mention the location of the show, but not the price or the time. Ditto for all the events. In the afternoon, Kim (from Amanzi) and I went round to the theatre to try to get tickets. Yes, the man said, this is where you get tickets. But no, can't get them now. Maybe later. Maybe around 7 o'clock. When does it start? Maybe around 8. How much? Don't know. We did get tickets at about 7:30, walked over to the Tanteen grounds and went through security that was perfunctory for us, and rather more careful for the locals. Grenada is gearing up for World Cricket next year, so they're testing some new security and safety routines now.
The crowd was a lot like a Kiwanis festival crowd, only bigger, more relaxed and in more of an open-air party mood. Beer tents, food and snacks at the back of the field. (Kiwanis organizers, take note. Also note that you should have more than two portapotties for a crowd this size.) Lots of stage mothers crowded up near the front as their community's pan band came on, lots of waving of scarves and hollering encouragement. The bands themselves, some of which included kids as young as about 10, were relatively reserved as they arranged the pans onstage -- smaller bands carried the pans on, bigger groups rolled platforms on stage. Then they waited for the nod from the judges, then the whole group gave a formal bow, then man, hang on to your hat, they just took off. This is high energy stuff. You might think that pan music is limited to a pretty general kind of tinny tinkley music to entertain tourists, but no way. This bunch had the dynamics, the musicality and the theatre of the thing down to an art. There was interaction on stage, there was lots of movement, there were incredibly complex arrangements, and they all finished their pieces with the whole group just leaping about with joy. As my Auntie Mary would say, "who has more fun than us?" That seemed to be the theme for the evening.
The next afternoon, Kim and I headed over to Grand Anse for "Catholics Can Cook" and had a great afternoon at the biggest church supper I've ever seen. All kinds of traditional food and drink, hundreds of people. We met some lovely people -- Kim talks to everyone, so there's no trouble meeting people when you're with Kim -- and ate everything from breadfruit pie to salt fish and rice.
Sunday night the party started gearing up ashore on the lagoon road. Five or six trucks loaded with speakers, and I mean loaded, front, back and sides, with room for the DJ in the middle, lined up about a hundred yards apart, and the space in between started filling up with people. Get ready for Jouvert, the real start of the Spice Mas Carnival. The party, and the deafening music, went on all night. We gave up trying to sleep and came up on deck at about 4 am to watch the crowds. Thousands of people dancing and jumping, all of them slathered in paint -- lime green, bright red, yellow, and some completely covered in what turned out to be used engine oil. The trucks boomed out the music, different songs from different trucks, until all we could hear was a general throbbing all around us. The boat was vibrating. Put a hand on your chest and you could feel your chest vibrating. How they took it ashore, I dinna understand. We watched through binoculars as the sun came up and the dancers continued to party. And they know how to party like a whole community here. All night we heard the disembodied voice of the guys with microphones on top of the truck, reminding people to "BEHAVE YOURSELVES! BEEEHHHAAAAVE!" and throughout the festivities, you heard people reminding each other with one word to stay chilled - "BALANCE!" Maybe that's how they manage to party for four or five days and nights at a time.
By mid-morning on Monday, the painted crowds were beginning to disperse, very slowly, and gangs of people armed with large rakes and garbage bags came along and cleaned up the bottles and other detritus. Paint splashes are everywhere in the street.
After lunch, the speaker trucks were back, and we watched the lagoon road slowly fill with people, this time in brightly coloured costumes. Groups formed up, and slowly, slowly, slowly made their way over the hill in a long line to the Tanteen field where the judges were. It wasn't the official parade day, just the judging. The parade was the next day, and seemed pretty much the same, with the costumes slightly the worse for the wear. (We watched the parade and bought beer from one of the roadside bars that were hastily erected for Carnival. This one was decorated with a flea-market-load of nautical trash and paint-by-number paintings of maritime scenes, including one of Yarmouth Light and Cape Forchu.)
Not a lot of organized movement in this parade, though they did move, sooner or later, down the road and over the hill toward the Carinage, but the level of energy that they maintian, dancing, dancing, dancing, is incredible. And these just aren't teenagers! The parade includes the whole community, from 4-year-old bumble bees, to seniors in costumes it's hard to describe. Picture an elderly gent covered with dots of paint, a feathery headdress and a very, very short shiny skirt with a ruffle. Picture four or five of them, and they're all full of beer or rum. Imagine a bevy of 50-60ish women with attitude and acres of spandex and feathers. Everybody's doing the same dance: winding. "De woman in front, and de man in back" as the song goes (the man faces her back) and then it's push the hips together and "wind!" (pronounced with a long "i"). Like I said, Canadian high school dance chaperones would have a heart attack. Fun to watch, hard to do. We boaties tried, and only Tara got a thumbs up from the local sitting behind her. He also cracked up laughing, but we like to think he was laughing with us, not at us....
Woke up the next morning to relative quiet. The buses tooting their horns, the trucks blasting theirs, everyone on their way to work. We went back to sleep.
(Pictures to follow - for more on the Carnival events and a pile of pics and a couple of quicktime movies, go to Amanzi's site at http://www.floatingclassroom.com/index.php)
I figure that Carnival in Grenada is carefully planned to span the outer limits of the people's ability to party: Friday night, the SOCA contest; Saturday night, Pan Bands contest and a concert; Sunday night and Monday morning, Jouvert (Joovay); and Monday and Tuesday are parade days. There was also a Calypso night in there somewhere. We went ashore and joined in for some of it, and had a great spot for watching the rest of the activity, less than a 1/4 mile from shore, and we were definitely within range of all the music going.
We were keen to hear the pan band competition on the big sports field about a half a mile from the lagoon, and I'd heard that we could buy tickets at the movie theatre. Ads or radio promotion would mention the location of the show, but not the price or the time. Ditto for all the events. In the afternoon, Kim (from Amanzi) and I went round to the theatre to try to get tickets. Yes, the man said, this is where you get tickets. But no, can't get them now. Maybe later. Maybe around 7 o'clock. When does it start? Maybe around 8. How much? Don't know. We did get tickets at about 7:30, walked over to the Tanteen grounds and went through security that was perfunctory for us, and rather more careful for the locals. Grenada is gearing up for World Cricket next year, so they're testing some new security and safety routines now.
The crowd was a lot like a Kiwanis festival crowd, only bigger, more relaxed and in more of an open-air party mood. Beer tents, food and snacks at the back of the field. (Kiwanis organizers, take note. Also note that you should have more than two portapotties for a crowd this size.) Lots of stage mothers crowded up near the front as their community's pan band came on, lots of waving of scarves and hollering encouragement. The bands themselves, some of which included kids as young as about 10, were relatively reserved as they arranged the pans onstage -- smaller bands carried the pans on, bigger groups rolled platforms on stage. Then they waited for the nod from the judges, then the whole group gave a formal bow, then man, hang on to your hat, they just took off. This is high energy stuff. You might think that pan music is limited to a pretty general kind of tinny tinkley music to entertain tourists, but no way. This bunch had the dynamics, the musicality and the theatre of the thing down to an art. There was interaction on stage, there was lots of movement, there were incredibly complex arrangements, and they all finished their pieces with the whole group just leaping about with joy. As my Auntie Mary would say, "who has more fun than us?" That seemed to be the theme for the evening.
The next afternoon, Kim and I headed over to Grand Anse for "Catholics Can Cook" and had a great afternoon at the biggest church supper I've ever seen. All kinds of traditional food and drink, hundreds of people. We met some lovely people -- Kim talks to everyone, so there's no trouble meeting people when you're with Kim -- and ate everything from breadfruit pie to salt fish and rice.
Sunday night the party started gearing up ashore on the lagoon road. Five or six trucks loaded with speakers, and I mean loaded, front, back and sides, with room for the DJ in the middle, lined up about a hundred yards apart, and the space in between started filling up with people. Get ready for Jouvert, the real start of the Spice Mas Carnival. The party, and the deafening music, went on all night. We gave up trying to sleep and came up on deck at about 4 am to watch the crowds. Thousands of people dancing and jumping, all of them slathered in paint -- lime green, bright red, yellow, and some completely covered in what turned out to be used engine oil. The trucks boomed out the music, different songs from different trucks, until all we could hear was a general throbbing all around us. The boat was vibrating. Put a hand on your chest and you could feel your chest vibrating. How they took it ashore, I dinna understand. We watched through binoculars as the sun came up and the dancers continued to party. And they know how to party like a whole community here. All night we heard the disembodied voice of the guys with microphones on top of the truck, reminding people to "BEHAVE YOURSELVES! BEEEHHHAAAAVE!" and throughout the festivities, you heard people reminding each other with one word to stay chilled - "BALANCE!" Maybe that's how they manage to party for four or five days and nights at a time.
By mid-morning on Monday, the painted crowds were beginning to disperse, very slowly, and gangs of people armed with large rakes and garbage bags came along and cleaned up the bottles and other detritus. Paint splashes are everywhere in the street.
After lunch, the speaker trucks were back, and we watched the lagoon road slowly fill with people, this time in brightly coloured costumes. Groups formed up, and slowly, slowly, slowly made their way over the hill in a long line to the Tanteen field where the judges were. It wasn't the official parade day, just the judging. The parade was the next day, and seemed pretty much the same, with the costumes slightly the worse for the wear. (We watched the parade and bought beer from one of the roadside bars that were hastily erected for Carnival. This one was decorated with a flea-market-load of nautical trash and paint-by-number paintings of maritime scenes, including one of Yarmouth Light and Cape Forchu.)
Not a lot of organized movement in this parade, though they did move, sooner or later, down the road and over the hill toward the Carinage, but the level of energy that they maintian, dancing, dancing, dancing, is incredible. And these just aren't teenagers! The parade includes the whole community, from 4-year-old bumble bees, to seniors in costumes it's hard to describe. Picture an elderly gent covered with dots of paint, a feathery headdress and a very, very short shiny skirt with a ruffle. Picture four or five of them, and they're all full of beer or rum. Imagine a bevy of 50-60ish women with attitude and acres of spandex and feathers. Everybody's doing the same dance: winding. "De woman in front, and de man in back" as the song goes (the man faces her back) and then it's push the hips together and "wind!" (pronounced with a long "i"). Like I said, Canadian high school dance chaperones would have a heart attack. Fun to watch, hard to do. We boaties tried, and only Tara got a thumbs up from the local sitting behind her. He also cracked up laughing, but we like to think he was laughing with us, not at us....
Woke up the next morning to relative quiet. The buses tooting their horns, the trucks blasting theirs, everyone on their way to work. We went back to sleep.
(Pictures to follow - for more on the Carnival events and a pile of pics and a couple of quicktime movies, go to Amanzi's site at http://www.floatingclassroom.com/index.php)
posted by Susan at 3:12 PM
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