Friday, August 04, 2006

At least they don't spell it "potatoe"

I like potatoes as much as the next guy. French fried, baked, scalloped, and even au gratin. And to celebrate potatoes is, I admit, as good a harvest festival as any to have, and it was fun to see the festivities around town. Each neigborhood seemed to host one night of revelry, and over the course of the week we've been here, it seems like each of them enjoys its turn as much as the next.

What has really thrown me is the schedule of celebrations. Things get started really early in the day. This week, I saw a marching band (well, about 10 guys with drums, trumpets, and a sousaphone, anyway) going around town at 7:15 a.m. And twice this week, I've been woken at around 3:00 a.m. by the sound of someone celebrating by driving his car around the block several times to "share" his favorite reggaeton songs with everybody in the barrio.
I never knew potatoes could be celebrated so loudly.

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