The Party at My Place
On Saturday one of the local politicians–in the hopes of garnering votes–sponsored a big “folklore” party at my house.
And by that I mean, if you stepped out of my front door, you were literally in the party.
Since I wasn’t going to be sleeping much that night (these things go into the wee hours) I went up to our balcony and snapped a few shots.
Festivities began with this group. You can’t see them for the feathers, but most of these guys are wearing some sort of drum or other instrument of the percussion family.
The next act was of a local dance called “Tambor da Crioula”. This, thankfully, was a rather tame version of this particular “cultural expression”.
Finally, it looked as if the whole park had been invaded by indians, as a local troupe performed the traditional “Morte do Boi” (Death of the Bull). Unfortunately for my sleep schedule, the bull came back to life shortly thereafter and the party went on.
Election seasons get loud in the US, but in all my years of living there, I never saw anything like this.
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