No, my friends, that title is not just me being hyperbolic–it’s the actual name of today, in carnival terms! (For those of you tired of hearing about carnival, a) I’m sorry but I just can’t contain myself! , b) it will be over next Wednesday, when regular subject matter posting will resume, and c) I’m very sad for you and recommend a visit to the doctor.)
Today is the day that the non-stop partying becomes REALLY nonstop. There are all kinds of fetes (live music parties) going on 24 hours a day until Carnival Monday. There are parties that start at sunbreak, parties that go all day, and parties that start at 4 or 5 am (to facilitate attendance after you go to a night party), and parties that go straight through the night and provide breakfast before continuing for the rest of the morning. The whole island will be thump, thumping to the sound of live music acts and beats, as it has been pretty much since Wednesday night, but LOUDER.
I can’t waiiiiiit!
My carnival weekend is looking something like this:
Friday night: came home, powernapped, crammed two final hours of work and dinner. Off to Soca Monarch at 10! Eat, drink, dance, hopefully not get my camera stolen, and get home at 4 or 5 am. Collapse on bed (hopefully without attacking the bag of bread as I am wont to do while intoxicated).
Saturday: sleep as late as I can. Shower, get back in lounging clothes, spend day getting acquainted with my couch avec pillows and book. Drink orange juice and cover myself in orange pulp and zinc to cure this nagging cold feeling. Plan on making some soup or pasta sauce for Monday/Tuesday and leave it frozen; nix cooking plan. Resist the urge to find a Saturday night fete to attend and satiate the fete urge with a single solitary rum and coke at home while wining by myself to music blaring from my computer.
Sunday: Try to go for an early run (to ensure early bedtime in preparation for Carnival Monday–probably won’t happen, but must try). Hit the market for fruits and veg for the week (I’ll need nutrients to counteract vitamin rum). Nap. Eat a bit of lunch. Listen for the sounds of the fete going down in my neighborhood. Head to fete when it starts to sound really jumping. Eat all the Trini delicacies I can get my hands on (you know, the ones that got me all pleasantly plump last year–roti, doubles, bake and shark, corn soup, pholourie–the more fried and carby and tongue-burning spicy, the better), try to drink more rum and cokes than I end up spilling, and dance like crazy in ways that will horrify the more genteel neighborhood contingent. Get home, wash off muddy feet from park fete, collapse in bed. Try to sleep.
Monday: Carnival Monday! Bra–check. Boy shorts–check. Gold sneakers–check. Bangles, glitter, feathers lite–check. Sunscreen–check check. Sense of shame–leave it at home. Head to Port of Spain early (band takes off from meeting point at 9). Brief Mr. Laura on wining/being wined upon protocols (one random wine upon my person=OK; persistent winer=you’ll get cuteye from me and him). Dance all day, eat all day, drink enough to keep merry without giving myself a hangover and watch that Husband does not slip off side of road and sprain his foot a la last year. Go home, hose off glitter and grit, collapse. Try to sleep.
Tuesday: Carnival Tuesday! Wake up two hours before the buttcrack of dawn (band will be meeting at 6:30 in Port of Spain–yikes). Inhale oatmeal breakfast, toast, etc (as much as I can for rum mop-up in bloodstream). Decorate myself with glitter and stick-on gems. Don fabulous costume, down good-luck rum and coke, and prepare to have THE MOST FUN DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE EVER. Think about the people who I wish were here to have fun with me too and have more than a few drinks in their honor. Cry on the way home at the sadness of it ending (and the thought of the hangover my drinking will invariably cause tomorrow).
Wednesday: Probably be the most tired/hungover/exhausted I have ever been in my life. Tentatively cut my bangs to cover up the tanline the headpiece will leave on my forehead, despite my careful sunblocking efforts. Delight in the amazingness of what we’ve done and pat myself on the behind for putting my behind out on the road. Swear that, despite the cost (having to save up all year and eat canned tuna and not buy clothes and shoes when I could have used them), we are DEFINITELY doing it again next year. Try not to vomit.
Want more Carnival related blabber? Check out my previous Carnival related posts:
The Final Carnival Shopping Trip (Or So I Say Today)
In Which My Carnival Costume Rules the Day
My Carnival photo page from last year
Spice Carnival Band (where I’ll be representin’)
Read up on what the Carnival experts have to say:
Trinidad Carnival Diary: written by Saucy Diva, THE word on all things Carnival
Wining Kriminals: this man knows his Carnival
Like I said, it’s Fantastic Friday, so I’m out! Nothing I ate or did today takes precedence over party-time, so no workwear or food posting today, I’m afraid. I’m dressed and ready to go, wearing this and a good dose of sassiness:
I’ll be back with a full fete report of eating, dancing, naughtiness and wassiness (bad behavior) tomorrrow!
Filed under: Trinidad Tales | Tagged: Carnival, Rubies of Mumbai, Spice |
Adventures in Tralaland 
Party like a Rockstar…I’m jealous!
That’s a whole week of getting busy! Go, you deserve that party!