February is the hottest part of the year in Cochabamba. The sun scorches the earth with such ferocity that you cannot walk barefoot. Fortunately, in Bolivia, February means , and Carnaval means water fights.
Arriving at the youth circus where I work one afternoon, my boss greets me: ‘This is a hold-up. Give me your bags, phones and all other valuables.’ Then the gates burst open and children rush out, screaming their war cries, armed with water guns, buckets, bowls and cans of spray foam. The drenching is as complete as it is merciless. I find a water gun and start to take revenge.
