Cover Your Tits, Keep Your Beads, It's Carnaval

Saturday marked three months since our arrival in Uruguay. Like any place, some things have worked out well, and other things have been frustrating to navigate. After all is said and done, I am happy with our decision to leave the United States. Things continue to move in a direction that we both see as troubling for the U.S. And the move was right for us.

Changing topics.

On January 22, Uruguay held the inaugural parade (or llamadas) of the 2026 Carnaval Season. This event kicks off more than 50 days of celebrations. When most people think of Carnaval, they think of parades. However, there is much more than that. There are festivals, theater shows, singing competitions, music competitions, and more. When it is all said and done, just over 90% of the Uruguayan population (including expatriates) participates in these events. Celebrations are held throughout the country. Given that the events take place over more than 50 days, Uruguay is the country with the longest Carnaval season.

On Friday, Mikey and I ventured into the old town to see the grand-daddy of llamadas. Being new to the country, we did not know how attending the llamadas worked. Attendance is high, and the city does a lot to prepare. People rent out rooftops or balconies to watch the comparsas go by. Others watch from the street, sitting in chairs or in bleachers that are erected at every intersection. To gain access to the seats, you must buy a ticket. About ten years ago, the city of Montevideo began limiting access to ticket holders only.

In the years leading up to this decision, the city had problems with individuals—typically foreign visitors—coming to the parade and creating disruptions. These individuals would get drunk, become obnoxious, and get into verbal and physical fights. At times, this behavior caused problems for the people marching in the parade. Uruguayans pushed the city to do something, and they did. They initiated the ticket requirement.

Tickets are priced low so families can afford to attend. However, the requirement deters those who simply want to cause problems. Not all events require tickets. Similar events in smaller barrios are free. The city and burros sees this as a return on investment. Through tax dollars, the events are covered, while businesses profit from food sales, trinkets, and even supplies for the costumes. We are talking about billions of dollars for the state. Ticket sales make up less than 1%, so this is not about filling city coffers.

Here is where we messed up. I was operating under the premise of what I know—Mardi Gras—where you can simply show up and watch the parade. We did not learn about the ticket requirement until a week before Friday. By then, tickets were sold out. So we had no tickets. That meant no parade for us… or so we thought.

We have some friends, R & J, who live less than a block from the parade route. They invited us over to visit for a bit and then walk over to see what we might be able to catch.

At 20:00 on the dot, fireworks went off—and not the kind of city fireworks I grew up with. These sounded like cannons. They went on for about three to five minutes and were incredibly loud. The explosions signaled the start of the parade. I think all of Montevideo was made aware. The parade starts at 20:00 and runs until 04:00 hours (that is not a typo). Comparsa after comparsa marches by, with floats rolling along all night long.

Around 21:30, we took a walk to see what we could find. Some intersections were blocked off, and tickets were checked about a block away. However, we found one area where tickets were being checked closer to the street. We found a spot where we could see a small sliver of the parade—and it was unbelievable. The costuming, dancing, flag bearers, and the drums. There are no other instruments—only drums. There are roughly 40-50 drummers. Drummers play one of three types of drums to create the Latin rhythms for their comparsas. It is loud, but it is moving. Hell, I even found myself doing a little salsa and merengue. These men and women know how to create music that causes you to want to dance.

A great part about Carnaval in Uruguay: No one flashes their tits for cheap plastic beads that you will throw away in your next move. Nothing is thrown by those marching in the parade.

We saw only one problem individual. There was one man who felt he was entitled to go through the gate without a ticket, and it was honestly funny to watch. He thought he would be suave and smooth-talk his way in. He started speaking Spanish (very badly), then shifted to English (very quickly). The ticket taker was not having it and did not let him through and calmly told him where he needed to go. She handled it beautifully.

While we didn’t get to watch the parade from the street, we still got to experience it. Mikey and I have already decided that next year we will buy tickets the week they go on sale and sleep 24 hours before the parade so we don’t miss llamadas 2027.

If you want to see a few of the comparsas, head over to the gallery. Some of our friends agreed to let me post their videos.

Thank you for sticking with me until the end.
Be kind to one another—and to yourself.