Summer officially begins here in January, which means that the past six weeks or so have seen sporadic sunny, warm days. The supermarkets and shops have been gearing up for Christmas for even longer. I spied my first Panettone on the shelf of a Metro at the end of September, and by November things were in full swing: costume-d staff, festive food, decorations, trees and inflatable figures graced shop entranceways and shoppers wandered aisles to a soundtrack of novelty tunes. Even in the massive central market my usual DVD stall had been replaced by a shop selling nativity scenes and baby Jesus figures! Reading about Christmassy happenings in the UK has seemed equally strange on these warmer days in Peru, and having been in Mancora this past week has served to distance me even further from the event. I have been waking up to hazy sunshine shining through my window, before opening my advent calendar and heading to the beach – very strange!
Christmas in Lima is clearly a massive event, though in Mancora this isn’t the case. Paula, the young Mum of the family I’m staying with, confirmed this. She is Chilean and moved to Mancora two years ago to be with Victor, a Peruvian. When I asked her about Christmas she told me that in Chile it was a big family event which she looked forward to every year, though here things were different – the small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room (complete with musical lights, which seem to be de rigeur in Peru) is the first Victor has ever had, she told me.
The previous day and a half were overcast here, though today Mancora was bathed in sunshine and calmer winds. This simply added to the peculiarity of the sight I spied on the way back from the beach. A group of children, surrounded by parents and what I took to be teachers, were lined up in the street clutching instruments and dressed in band uniform. Behind this group more children in Christmas costume were milling around, being herded into a crocodile by the adults on either side of the group. It seemed a Christmas parade was just about to begin, complete with all the characters one would expect – there were a couple of Josephs and Marys (cradling dolls swaddled in blankets) Wise Men with boxes wrapped in shiny foil, donkeys and various other animals, stripy-socked elves, Father Christmasses, a snowman and a Christmas tree. There were also two girls who I assumed were the parade’s royalty: one wearing a fetching blue number who curtsied when I asked for a photo, and another in a billowing white dress, held aloft on a Carnival Queen style throne. The kids looked cute and all obliged when I asked for photos, encouraged by parents. I was reminded of the September Carnival in my home town, in which groups of children (and adults) walk dressed up, through the town.
There were a variety of ages involved in the Mancora parade and, just as the Carnival at home features cute groups of young ones there are also the obligatory tweenaged majorettes. These girls are gaudily made up and wear leotards which flash a questionable amount of flesh-toned hosiery-ed leg. Similarly, the Mancora parade featured four girls who had clearly not wanted to showcase the nativity stable chic of the younger ones and instead opted for thigh-skimming festive outfits. I imagined that these girls had given the excuse of this being the a more practical clothing option than a heavy Christmas tree onesie – and in the heat of Mancora I guess this could hardly be denied.
letters from lima 