Saturday night, Mikey and I met our friends Rich and Jack for dinner. The food was fantastic. I ordered a salad with strawberries, pineapple, tomatoes (I lovingly escorted those to the side of the plate), and lettuce. It was delicious. Mikey ordered lasagna and declared it the best he’s had in ages — high praise from a man with high pasta standards. Great food and even better conversation.

Rich and Jack fled to Uruguay during Trump’s first term. The moment 2016 election results rolled in, they said, “That’s our cue!” They’ve been incredibly helpful in our transition, offering guidance, advice, and enough local wisdom to save us from at least nine rookie mistakes.

After dinner, they suggested we go watch a Carnival practice happening nearby. Saturday night entertainment? We were game. We walked a few blocks before we could hear it — drums that vibrated in our rib cages like we swallowed mini subwoofers. By the time we reached the street, the energy was so electric that standing still felt rude.

Here’s the fun part: parade groups called a comparsa. A comparsa includes banner bearers, dancers, Mama Vieja and the old slave master characters, and a brigade of drummers (20–40 of them). Each drummer plays one of three different drums, weaving together that irresistible beat that makes even the stiffest hips attempt motion.

The dancers perform candombe, a dance rooted in Afro-Uruguayan culture. These performers do not play — they give their all. They start with full energy and end with full energy, even after marching for ten blocks. They’re all volunteers who rehearse year-round simply because they love their culture, and you can see that joy and pride beaming in their faces as they slowely pass by.

Here’s what else caught my eye: the place was full of people. Food trucks, vendors, laughter — all the ingredients for a good time. Some people were enjoying a drink. There were zero barricades between us and the comparsas. People weren’t pushing, shoving, or acting like they were auditioning for a Black Friday riot. Every now and then, you caught a whiff of marijuana (Uruguay was the first country to legalize pot). It seemed no one was acting out or being obnoxious. When a comparsa passed, some people would just hop in behind and dance along. Nobody bothered the performers. Everyone respected each other. The whole scene radiated fun, community, and trust.

It reminded me what healthy community life can (and should) feel like. I’d forgotten.

I’m already counting the days until January/February when the world’s longest (most number of days) Carnival officially begins.

Thanks for sticking around. Be kind to one another, and stay safe.