We celebrated the last day of Carnaval yesterday, complete with a half dozen local traditions -- led by the nuns and Don Doñato, the grandfatherly facilities director students fondly call Profe.

(Short for profesor because he was a high school teacher for years and years.)








As an apparently obvious pyromaniac, I got to light a firecracker to get the attention of the spirits.

Little sugar candies were thrown on top of the house as a blessing and to make a satisfying noise on the tin roof.

We sprinkled sugar cane alcohol in the doorways to give back to the earth and to make sure only good things made their way in.

But we decided to respectfully forgo the traditions of tossing more mixtura everywhere and -- everybody's favorite -- placing dried-up llama fetuses in the four corners of the house.






We did, however, wrap the things we value most in colorful paper ribbons.