Angasmarca Fiesta

When I saw the party cows I knew we were in for a wild time. I mentioned to Dylan that we want to watch ourselves. I have been to few fiestas in the Andes and they are not tame affairs. 1. people drink to get drunk and fall down 2. they expect you to do the same 3. drunk people are unpredictable 4. we would be the only gringos and stick out like sore thumbs. We decided to bypass the band/beer fountains and went up one block around the soccer field. People were gathered around the field drinking beer and waiting for the games to start while more party cows wandered. Walking full loaded touring bikes in cycling regalia made us pretty obvious and we were invited to share a beer about every 20 feet. The Andean style of drinking is to stand (then sit) in a circle and pass a large beer and glass around the circle - you pour yourself a glass, drink it down then pass it along. Very social and you cannot be too concerned about germs but it is good to note any large cold sores or hacking coughs. The problem is you cannot keep track of how much you are drinking - the orbiting bottle never stops. We ran the soccer field gauntlet drinking a couple beers along the way only to come to a stop at a house on the corner. They seemed like nice guys eager to talk with the gringos so we stopped . . . for hours. Initially chatting about our travels but then moving on to usual topics of family, work, food, and women. Not sure how much was drunk, but the cases kept appearing, needless to say we could not ride our bikes and it was dark. Time to find food and a place to sleep. Incidentally, we were warned to watch out for the 100+ bulls running loose in the town . . .
Of course, the town was booked solid but we found a room to crash in at a house. Dylan passed out on the bed and I set up on the floor after wandering out for food. The next day started at 5:30am with a small band and procession marching around the streets. I woke up on the floor thirsty and needing a bathroom, however we were locked in the room . . . you can always bleach your water bottle. I caught a short video from the crack in the door.

After getting sprung we ate caldo de gallina (chicken soup) for breakfast and set out on a sober hotel search, eventually having luck, and seeing the town in the process. Around every corner was another band and procession of men dressed up like woman or Roman legionnaires or deer or bulls or the werewolf.
People were in town from as far as Lima and Trujillo, many were originally from Angasmarca but had since moved away for school and work. They returned once a year for the lightly controlled mayhem of the fiesta. The entire town was a market and cacophony of music.
When we returned to our room there was a drinking circle blocking our door . . . can't beat 'em - join 'em. I was pleased to note that it included the accordion player - earlier in the day I had told Dylan, "I want to drink with him," the accordion player. Turns out the 20-30 cases of beer in our room were for them and now us. They were a nice group that included teachers, engineers and business people - all from out of town except for the really drunk guy on the left who is ready to fall on his face. We talked history, politics, mining, and, a favorite, whats wrong with Peru. Good company and they protected Dylan and myself from overly aggressive drunks. Eventually, the circle dissipated when the cock fights started and we took the opportunity to move over to our new digs - clean, hot water, and no bed bugs . . . in my bed, anyhow.There was a religious component to this fiesta dedicated to the Santa Rosa de Lima housed in the beautiful but collapsing 16th century baroque church. The front of the church was kept for collapsing inwards onto the altar by buttressing of eucalyptus logs.The baroque plaster work was elaborate and crumbling. The church is slated for restoration but nothing appears to be happening. I heard more than one person bemoan the condition of the church and political situation in Peru that allows such a masterpiece of architecture go to ruin. The music and processions seemed to intensify until everyone started to converge on the church for mass. The church was bursting at the seams (a serious possibility) with people sitting and and standing in all the available space while vendors sold ice cream next to the portico.After the service people went off for food or resume drinking or perhaps take a nap before the bands started playing all night and dancing began.

By day three in Angasmarca Dylan and I decided it was time to leave before we got called into another circle, our stomachs needed time to settle. We rode out late morning dodging cows, bands, werewolves, and drunk Roman legionnaires.