Clubbing in Mariato

So far we never went out in Mariato. Going out in Mariato is restricted to three ‘cantina’s’ none of which looked very inviting. And women who appear in these places are usually prostitutes. Going out together would not be very good for Loes’ reputation and I did not fancy going on my own. But now we have a Dutch male student, so finally I had the opportunity to experience the night life of Mariato.

Well, night life, make that evening life. We kept it rather short. The first canteen was actually the best. It is right opposite our house, has recently acquired a new sound system and is called ‘Corotu’. We had also heard that the clients sometimes make a strange sound that resembles a dog barking. This had to be checked out.

We had barely entered when we were cornered by a foreigner. We never found out where he came from during the half hour conversation. Our conversation partner claimed that he was born in Holland and therefore Danish, that he was an Indian and that he grew op in the state of California. We came to the conclusion that he now spends most of his time in the state of inebriation.

Luckily there were other customers who suddenly started this strange barking sound, so we left the citizen of Inebriation to his own devices (a full beer bottle) and went to investigate. Making the sound is called ‘salomar’ (this is a verb) and it is an expression of friendship and joy. As soon as Rob (the student) showed a recorder, we were treated to the more elaborate version. This elaborate version sounds a bit like someone singing the blues while he is being kicked in the groin. I am told salomar is an acquired taste and I think it takes a lifetime to acquire that taste.

The second bar was a sad, dark, smelly affair which we left almost immediately. The third was not as bad as the second, but was not as great as the first. We encountered our neighbour there. He was very interested in Holland, but kept asking the same questions over and over again. Perhaps he was not really interested, had a bad memory, was drunk or could not understand my Spanish. Anyway, after answering the same question for the third time we felt it was time to go home. It was half past ten…

A night to remember, if only to make sure one does not make that mistake again.