I feel about parades the way I do about about baseball: a little goes a long way. Costa Rica’s independence day was September 15, so I hitched a ride with my host parents to San Rafael de Heredia, the nearby town, for some prime people watching. No need to try to get to San Jose, the capitol city, for their festivities. This small production was just my speed.
The parade in San Rafael was mostly comprised of groups from local schools. Some had small bands, heavy on the drums. One of my colleagues said he and his family have been hearing band practice for at least a couple of weeks. (Maybe this is Costa Rica’s analogue to the marching band cadences from far off football stadiums that I associate with the beginning of the school year).
I couldn’t help admiring the lira, the instrument (shown below) that looks like a cross between a lyre and a xylophone.
A boy in the same band played what looked like an oversized cheese grater. If I were in a parade, that would be my instrument of choice.
I have a negative visceral reaction to the polo shirt, and especially to cute kids or overworked store clerks stuffed into them. (Future topic for investigation: the Hegemony of the Polo.)
I suppose polos are better for warm weather than dress shirts, and they do look more polished than some tees. There’s just something sad about them, a whiff of working in an office with wood paneling and no windows in a shirt made for a nametag and flair.