All right, so the novelty per se is already gone, we learned about the mini houses, the money, and the rooster and the hen last year – only the second time around does have added dimensions, as this year's Alasitas would confirm.
As a reminder: Alasitas is a festival where people wish for things – mostly material items, whether it is money (you should also state the currency, should you be lucky enough to emigrate), houses, cars, visas, diplomas, you name it. Of course the rooster and the hen symbolize marriage, so you will find many of La Paz's singles running around with tons of poultry.
In order to have your wish come true, you will have to buy the coveted items in miniature form. Think Matchbox, in this case, except that the car you would wish for is even smaller than that. On the days before Alasitas, merchants open their booths and sell anything mini that people might wish – needless to say, they make a killing doing so. I have seen at least a dozen different currencies too (dollars, euros, pounds, bolivianos, pesos, among others), and houses that range from the mini cottage to a huge mansion. The sky seems to be the limit for what people can wish for.
Of course, what has actually come true is an entirely different manner. File any wishes the Pacenas might have among those you might have in the west when you break a wishbone, see a falling star, or drop a penny into a well.
This year around is a little different. Here it is customary – although by no means the law – to give employees enough time off (usually an hour or more) to buy the miniature equivalents of what they wish for this year and then have them blessed by the shaman. You see, buying the said items is hardly enough here. To clinch the deal, you need a little something extra, like a little divine interference to up your chances, unless you want that suitcase of money to remain a pipedream.
With familiarity come perks, as well.
For example, last year I was just another foreigner. This year, colleagues and neighbors inundate me with miniature items: I must have thousands of dollars in different currencies, most of them in dollars.
Supposedly at work, there is a lucky fairy here whose gifts have a bigger chance of becoming reality. This would be Karina, who, legend has it here, is directly responsible for more husbands and wives, cars, and visas than anybody else in the building.
You could argue that it is suspect that Karina herself has none of these things, but according to tradition I ask her for a mini house, which I promptly receive and is now sitting on the window sill behind my workstation.
Here are some of the oddest wishes that I've heard people express here in La Paz:
1. A printer, so the person can print money instead of making it.
2. A lama, so the person can run over it with his car (after one spat in his eye). No joke.
3. A gigantic roof, so the person can cover La Paz during the rainy season.
4. An earthquake, so the person's architecture firm gets more business.
Different countries, different customs.
As a reminder: Alasitas is a festival where people wish for things – mostly material items, whether it is money (you should also state the currency, should you be lucky enough to emigrate), houses, cars, visas, diplomas, you name it. Of course the rooster and the hen symbolize marriage, so you will find many of La Paz's singles running around with tons of poultry.
In order to have your wish come true, you will have to buy the coveted items in miniature form. Think Matchbox, in this case, except that the car you would wish for is even smaller than that. On the days before Alasitas, merchants open their booths and sell anything mini that people might wish – needless to say, they make a killing doing so. I have seen at least a dozen different currencies too (dollars, euros, pounds, bolivianos, pesos, among others), and houses that range from the mini cottage to a huge mansion. The sky seems to be the limit for what people can wish for.
Of course, what has actually come true is an entirely different manner. File any wishes the Pacenas might have among those you might have in the west when you break a wishbone, see a falling star, or drop a penny into a well.
This year around is a little different. Here it is customary – although by no means the law – to give employees enough time off (usually an hour or more) to buy the miniature equivalents of what they wish for this year and then have them blessed by the shaman. You see, buying the said items is hardly enough here. To clinch the deal, you need a little something extra, like a little divine interference to up your chances, unless you want that suitcase of money to remain a pipedream.
With familiarity come perks, as well.
For example, last year I was just another foreigner. This year, colleagues and neighbors inundate me with miniature items: I must have thousands of dollars in different currencies, most of them in dollars.
Supposedly at work, there is a lucky fairy here whose gifts have a bigger chance of becoming reality. This would be Karina, who, legend has it here, is directly responsible for more husbands and wives, cars, and visas than anybody else in the building.
You could argue that it is suspect that Karina herself has none of these things, but according to tradition I ask her for a mini house, which I promptly receive and is now sitting on the window sill behind my workstation.
Here are some of the oddest wishes that I've heard people express here in La Paz:
1. A printer, so the person can print money instead of making it.
2. A lama, so the person can run over it with his car (after one spat in his eye). No joke.
3. A gigantic roof, so the person can cover La Paz during the rainy season.
4. An earthquake, so the person's architecture firm gets more business.
Different countries, different customs.
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