If Cali warranted a paltry 5 pages in the Lonely Planet guide to Colombia, it’s 5 more than Barranquilla got. Apparently, there’s not much reason to visit this tough industrial sea faring town apart from one thing – CARNIVAL!! In the early stages of plotting a visit of my better half, the city never figured on our shortlist until we realised the Friday night Carnival dress rehearsal – Guacherna – was taking place on a date we could make. And on top of that Barranquilla’s most famous daughter – Shakira! Shakira! – was playing a home town gig the same weekend. So the stage was set for total mayhem and that’s what we got!

The run in from the airport was its usual eye opening near death experience past shanty towns and skinny people dragging huge carts by hand. Certainly not much to recommend the city on first impressions. Our kindly Uber driver took a detour to show us the throngs mobbing the statue of Shakira erected in totally vacant industrial part of town near the river. Their attempt to regenerate the place I guess. Stepping out into our accommodation verified the BBC weather prediction – 34 feels like 42. Ouch!

The next day we got carnival ready by scoping out the route early in the day in an attempt to eye up a good vantage point (spoiler.. it didn’t work). The figures are impressive, if not somewhat daunting. 15,000 performers. 24,000 plastic chairs on the pavements. Who knows how many more lining the route (5 million visitors for all carnival events). After getting suitably attired, but still sticking out like sore thumbs as virtually the only gringos in town, we thought getting to the route an hour early would let us bag a chair. We thought wrong. Despite there being loads of empty ones still, we didn’t realise that you need to get there 3 hours early to stand a chance really. The empty ones were saved.

We shuffled as close as we could and braced ourselves. I managed to get on the case of the guy selling the chairs and gave him money to get himself a beer in the hope he’d keep us in mind if two chairs came up… he did! Eventually we squeezed into narrow chair rows and could see just enough of the parade as it eventually filed by.

The troupes were a sea of colour, sequins and feathers. Notably a fair chunk of trans women loving every minute of it, like a 3 hour long Priscilla procession. Also notable was the great proportion of older people. Pensioners pimped up in their carnival best.

Cold beers flowing, the crowd going mad for each dance troupe we were right in the thick of it. There was nothing else to do but embrace it for all the craziness and health and safety nightmare that it is. It wasn’t long before we were soaked by ‘puma’ some sort of big aerosol can filled with a shaving foam type substance. Praying to god it’s non toxic.. I mean, we now know that talc is carcinogenic (sorry soulies). At times the crowd swayed as one covered in the stuff like one big massive bukkake hokey cokey (please don’t look it up). Later on the puma was topped off by flour.. my face turning into a bakers bread board.

The carnival attracts lots of characters. Some part of the historic roots of the celebration, others not. I’m still traumatised by the sight of Marimonda at every turn. A bizarre creature that I can most politely describe as sausage face. There’s also a big lipped black woman in a kind of Minnie Mouse outfit. Add to that teenagers blacking up and deliberately scaring people, golli type characters that looked like Papa Lazarou from League of Gentlemen it’s a genuine nightmare, and not just for the woke.

As the night rolled on, we escaped the plastic chairs and roamed a bit. Down every sidestreet residents were having their own little parties with friends and family, music blaring, dancing, drinking. The atmosphere was electric and so energetic and life affirming. All ages involved to the max. I practised my Spanish on a group of child-like police officers who were delighted to put their Duolingo English to the test.

We topped off the night buying a bottle of rum and a bottle of coke sitting outside an off licence chatting to locals (and the only gringos we saw at the whole event) dancing to the blaring salsa and getting covered in even more flour.

The whole thing exceeded expectations and once again proved the Colombians to be some of the most friendly, open and fun loving people on the planet. They welcomed us with open arms and the memories will always stay with us. Though I for one, would be more than happy to be able to forget sausage face.