Three straight weekends. That’s Halloween in Medellín.
The parties started the weekend before Halloween weekend. But I decided to forgo starting early. I was too busy.
With Halloween on a Monday and “ley seca” in effect the two days before because of the election, Friday was my target night for dressing up and partying hard.
But like I said, I had been busy. On the Wednesday leading up to the weekend, I walked from my Belén apartment to a store in Laureles, Carnaval & Fantasia.
They had hundreds of costumes, it was difficult to decide. I settled on being a marinero, a sailor.
This led to some good laughs because my friend Carlos, the owner of La Esquina de Basco, the restaurant on the first floor of my building, compared me to the member of “The Village People” who wore a similar costume.
“Y-M-C-A,” Carlos blurted, doing the motions, making everyone laugh.
Carlos busting my chops is nothing new. Anyone who looks at my Facebook page knows this.
So it’s no surprise he did it for Halloween, a time to laugh and have fun. And that’s what I did, although not exactly the way I expected.
The place to be on Friday night was Aqua, the nightclub at La Strada, a posh shopping center in Poblado.
I talked to my roommate about going with him and his girlfriend, but after going out the night before — and getting invited to a costume party Saturday night — I didn’t have the motivation. I was tired.
But Bruce said he and Julieth had a great time and showed me some pictures (one of them posted with this story).
The best costume: a guy dressed like a table with a bowl of fruit on top, around his head.
So Saturday night rolls around and I haven’t heard anything from my friend Lucas. I’m thinking, “Damn it. I paid 40,000 pesos to rent this costume and I might not even use it.”
I resigned myself to the fact that I might have to wait for weekend No. 3 to celebrate Halloween. The unexpected happened again.
Around 9, one my roommates told me there were people downstairs asking for me. It was Abuelo and Rafa, two of Lucas’s friends. They came to get me for the party. Turns out, the house was only three blocks from my place.
It was a good party, lots of people in costumes, one couple dressed like Fred and Wilma Flintstone.
And like almost any celebration in Medellín, there was lots of Guaro. They stocked up on it before 6 p.m., the start of ley seca or a prohibition on alcohol sales until 6 p.m. the following day.
I didn’t drink much. I just wanted to talk to my friends and meet new ones, which I did. It was a great time.
The next day, I returned my costume and got my 20,000 deposit back. I decided one weekend of Halloween was enough for me. But “the rumba must go on,” and a couple of my other roommates indulged on the last weekend of costume festivities.
Kristina, Rachel and their friend Barbara dressed up as Jagermeister, Sky Vodka and Red Bull, which, together, made them a Jager Bomb.
I didn’t see the costumes, haven’t seen the pictures. I heard their laughter from my room as they were preparing to leave for a party. It woke me up.
I thought about going out there to see the costumes up close, but then I let my head crash into my pillow and drifted back to sleep, to rest up before my next rumba.
