I've always loved this movie. It was filmed in Woodstock, IL, which is only a few miles from where I grew up, and because it plays on the really interesting idea that you would be able to relive the same day over and over again, which for the character Phil turns out to be more of a curse than a blessing.
Anyway, the month of August was basically my Groundhog Day. Everyday was an inescapable, torturous repetition of the day before. I found myself losing track of time, assuring myself that weeks had passed, when in reality it had only been a day. What made me descend into this repetitious life? One word, feria.
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| Not quite a groudhog, but this Agouti found in Copan would be a decent substitute |
Typically, Honduran ferias could best be described as a continuous party where the town comes together to eat, dance, crown a King and Queen (much like a homecoming in the US), sell and buy stuff, and revel in the good company of one another. All of this sounds great on paper, and people in Honduras need a break, no doubt about it. I have no doubt that before the onslaught of large sound systems that ferias in Honduras were probably great experiences. They were probably a smaller, more confined, featuring a live band rather than an DJ with a 15 track cd, the mind of a hamster and ears of an WWII veteran. Feria and I didn't get along so well this year.
My Groundhog Day
*I live in the center of town across the street from all of the activity, which obviously has lead to a pretty extreme bias regarding these events.
I didn't sleep for nearly a month. The glass in my apartment would rattle from 8 AM-4 AM (yeah...not exaggerating). Music was played at all of the time to the loudest possible volumes. I'm pretty sure I learned the words to over a dozen Spanish rap songs, although don't ask me to repeat them. Worse, the music never changed and was constantly replayed. It was always the incessant droning of reggaeton or the terrible monatany of ranchero, or both at the same time. (I dare you to play those two songs over and over non-stop for one day and not go crazy.) I swear sometimes there were competitions to see who could play their music the loudest.
Trash. Everywhere. Since Jutiapa has no regular trash service the situation became pretty desperate, pretty quickly. While walking around the center I was cushioned by the crushing of cardboard beer cups beneath my feet, and when it rained all of this trash would soften to become part of the mud, creating a festering pit of joy. Really fun stuff.
Ferias are known to bring out the bolos/drunks of the municipio. During the past year the bolos have come to learn that I won't give change for booze (a monumental step, ask any volunteer), but the out of town bolos have no such knowledge, and would routinely hit me up for cash. I couldn't even eat outside or walk to work without a bolo, whom I didn't know and who didn't live in my town, coming up to me slurring, "gringo, gringo dame cinco lempiras." Frustrating as shit, especially after working so hard to get past it.
All work ground to a halt. Instead of being able to finish work on the soccer field and park we were forced into hiatus, as the park and area around the soccer field became inundated with people. Most of our work as of late has just been cleaning up the soccer field from all of the trash collected during feria and repairing areas of the parquecito damaged by all of the people here. Basically catch-up. I wasn't the only one though, employees of the municipality were more or less on vacation this past month, since roughly 1/3 of them were on the feria planning committee.
I guess my biggest complaint about feria, however, was that there was just nothing unique about it. It was always the same loud music blasting, the same street vendors only selling the same cheap plastic knockoffs and junk that you can buy at any street corner or market in Ceiba. Even the food was the same french fries and tacos that you find at every restaurant and comedor country wide. I really did expect there to be differences in the food and traditions amongst the various ferias I've been to, especially in a country as differentiated as this. Not one vendor or person took advantage of our closeness to the Caribbean to grill up some seafood on the cheap, or use connections to the Garifuna communities surrounding Jutiapa to bring just an inkling of culture and uniqueness to this event.
I understand that there are parts about my time here that I won't enjoy. Things like littering, machismo and fijese ques will eventually get to you and wear you down, without a doubt, but now, for me at least, I have to add feria to this list. Maybe if I didn't live in the center of town, I would feel differently about this experience, but that's not the reality. I understand now why New Yorkers flee Times Square for NYE, why those living in DC flee for the 4th of July, and those in New Orleans flee for Mardi Gras. They just don't want to put up with crap they know is coming. There's no fun to the thing. I can't flee though, at least not for 3 1/2 weeks, or even a couple of nights to a finca outside of town. It's just not feasible, and I'm just too broke. Instead I am forced to stay and interpret ranchero songs.
Regardless, it is all over now. Although a few vendors still linger, things have at least quieted down...substantially. For now, it is February 3rd, and time to get back on with life.
