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The sun rose on Rancagua, much the same as it always had. Only Donald recalled that today was a little different.
The duck dragged himself out of his motel bed with a grumble and a yawn, cursing himself as always for being an early riser, even when on vacation. But in this case he couldn't be too miffed, as it would end up working to their advantage. Today was September 18, the official start of the Fiestas Patrias , Chile's celebration of their independence from Spain. And while Donald had been happy to read up all about it from the tourist brochures he had picked up from the airport, the main thing he had to look forward to was the partying, seemingly endless partying with great food, drinking, festival games, and dancing. It was how his old pal José had sold him on the trip in the first place.
Speaking of the Brazilian in question, Donald glanced over to the other matching queen size bed next to his and was amused to find his friend sprawled wide across the mattress and snoring softly. It seemed that even a bird with his experience taking long flights all over the world, he was still just as susceptible to jetlag as himself.
"Come on, rise and shine!" Donald took some mild glee at prodding his travelling companion awake, knowing him to be even less of a morning bird than he was. "Vamos, caro amigo, if I gotta be awake, so do you." He trudged over to the windows and threw back the black out curtains. Morning poured in like a warm waterfall through the clear glass and washed out José in its unrelenting brightness. The city of Rancagua lay beyond, already wide awake and abuzz with the electric current of excitement for the day.
Zé groaned and threw a pillow over his head, and Donald was pretty sure he caught a string of Portuguese curses muffled into the slip cover below. He smirked in satisfaction, and went off in search of the complimentary coffee.
Walking down the street toward the fonda, Donald already noted the presence of partygoers and the sounds of the accordion and Spanish guitars playing the cueca and tonada and sweetening the air with their melodies. The two Caballeros had decided to take the scenic route from their motel to one of the bigger celebrations of the region, passing by the picturesque Sagrario Cathedral, which Donald made sure to take several pictures of for the family back home. Upon finally arriving at the scene of the festivities, José was quick to drag his friend over to the nearest beverage stall to purchase two terremotos, one for each of them.
"¡Salud!" the parrot cheered in Spanish while raising his cup and Donald couldn't help return the gesture with a laugh. Zé's energy was always rather infectious, it was difficult not to get pulled in with his enthusiasm.
Donald quickly learned that the name "earthquakes" was fairly apt for the grenadine, pineapple ice cream, and pipeño wine cocktail. It wasn't long before his legs were quaking as he attempted to stay steady and upright. Zé wasn't in much better a state, and so Donald thought maybe some actual food was in order. They had both skipped out on breakfast because they knew there were going to be indulging in the massive amounts of traditional cuisine being sold at the festival, so of course the alcoholic beverage was going to be hitting them hard.
"Ah, Donald, por aqui! They're selling anticuchos—you have to try some! Tão bom!" Zé exclaimed, big ruddy brown eyes wide and zeroed in on the stall in question from where the rich, delicious smell of barbequed beef was issuing forth.
Anticuchos, as it turned out, were meat skewers with a piece of bread on the bottom to catch the juices that ran down. Donald had no idea how they seasoned their beef, but he wanted it in his kitchen badly. "Muchas gracias," he took the time to politely thank the little condor cook that sold them the delicious fare, when he wasn't too busy making yummy noises and happy little quacks.
"Vês? I told you, I know what I'm talking about," José was looking entirely too pleased with himself, as if he had discovered all these treasures personally, instead of just hearing all about it from Panchito's Chilean cousin.
"Yeah yeah yeah," Donald rolled his eyes, doing his level best not to smile at the green parrot's self-satisfied swagger down the path leading past the lengthy line of stalls selling food and souvenirs and games of all sorts. He could admit privately to himself that coming here had been a better idea than his suggestion of visiting the Idaho State Fair for their vacation. The language barrier that he had been worried about was barely a problem so long as he stuck close to the multi-lingual macaw. Which the American duck counted as added benefit, considering...
Donald shook his head of that train of thought and hustled to catch up with his best friend.
As one would expect of someone who considered himself a professional tourist, Donald didn’t hesitate in emptying his wallet for some choice mementos to wear for the duration of the celebrations, which included a huaso poncho and chupalla hat, which he had seen being worn by several of the locals. José explained these were likely cueca dancers heading towards the main fonda tent, where Donald could hear the festive music playing the loudest. His companion relented to his enthusiastic urging and bought himself a red, white, and blue sash for his waist.
"¡Ei, ves tan bacán!" the seller complimented warmly as Donald was taking the time to admire himself in his new traditional getup, as well as not so subtly urging Zé to take a picture of him to show off to his kids. Turning to said parrot, now matching in his patriotically colored sash, she asked, "Señor, ¿es tu pololo?"
"Ah? No, él es solo mi querido amigo, ¿chachai?" Zé chuckled in what Donald observed to be a rather bashful manner. Huh, I wonder what they are talking about? He thought curiously.
"¡Oye, gringo! ¡Viva Chile conchetumadre!" a passerby called out with a jovial fist pump in the air when they saw the blue-eyed bird’s attire.
"Uh yeah! Same to you, pal!" Donald replied with equal volume, grinning awkwardly, not entirely sure he hadn’t just been insulted or not. He could pick out at least two of those words as something he’d heard before, gringo of course being the most familiar, considering who his friends were. The other word made him curious.
"Say, do you guys sell concha here? I keep hearing that word all over the place. I could really go for some!” he asked eagerly. He’d been introduced to the Mexican sweet bread roll by Panchito, and had quickly become fond of having it on the occasions the rooster could get away from his ranch to visit.
Both the merchant and José gave Donald a wide-eyed look, as if he’d just said something really strange. "So is that a no or…?"
"Haha! Oh, meu pato fofo e inocente!" Zé laughed rather more boisterously than what was called for. Donald could see that he had started to perspire. Odd, he had thought this overcast spring day to be a little too chilly to be sweating from just a little walking.
Then, all thought for the state of the weather was cast aside as the malandro swooped in to take Donald by the arm and lead him gently away. "Come, my friend, let me explain a few things to you…"
"This frog..." Donald towered over the amphibian in question, it's mouth hanging agape as if in disbelief at what the duck was proclaiming to the world. "I... hate... this frog."
José nearly spat out his drink in the midst of his laughter, probably at how utterly furious his American friend must have seemed glaring down with hatred at the juego de la rana game he had been spending the better part of thirty minutes trying to beat. "Donald, meu caro, come over here and eat! You're going to work yourself into a molt at this rate. Venha aqui. Olhe!" He waved an empanada temptingly at the back of Donald's head, one of the many sitting pretty at their table at the edge of the fonda tent. "It's tão deliciosooo," he sing-songed.
The sound of someone clearing their throat drew both their attention. "Um, perdona, señor, ¿te gustaría bailar?"
Donald blinked several times at the rather strikingly pretty young wigeon in a flowered dress, waving a handkerchief at his friend in an open, universal invitation to dance. Did Zé even know how to dance the cueca?
By the way the parrot smiled and stood up, whipping out his own handkerchief, he clearly did. "May I borrow this?" Zé asked, rather redundantly as he had already come to swap his Panama straw hat with Donald’s chupalla. With a parting wink, the Brazilian was whisked away to partake in the traditional Chilean dance.
Donald tried not to brood, he really did. He tried not to even watch. He shoved an empanada in his mouth, completely missing the delectable flavor, and pushed Zé’s hat down over his eyes for all of a few seconds before he caught the scent of his friend’s headfeathers and pulled the accessory completely off his head. His gaze was immediately arrested by the blue and red flash of the green macaw’s tail feathers as he danced with his partner, handkerchiefs waving in the air, reenacting the courting ritual of a rooster and a hen.
Hopeless. José was always impossible to ignore.
The reason the two Caballeros had chosen this particular fonda to visit over someplace else like Santiago, besides the fact that it boasted the large Medialuna Monumental for the classic Chilean rodeo show, was because this year the fonda would have a ferris wheel. It appealed in particular to Donald for its familiarity, having ridden in one with the kids through the years during the many Duckburg county fairs they attended. It was meant to be relaxing, the perfect punctuation on a busy, fun-filled day.
This felt slightly different.
"They all look so tiny," José remarked from beside him, peering down at the festival from on high. But Donald was having a hard time paying attention to anything outside their little pod, too caught up in the way the light of the descending sun highlighted the emerald of his companion’s feathers, or how brightly his eyes shone when consumed with delight for the little gifts that life handed to him.
It humbled the sailor, made him want to appreciate everything anew, like Zé did. Made him want to appreciate him. He only needed the courage to actually do something about it.
By the time the ride ended, the sun had long since been covered by the rainclouds that had been hovering all day, waiting for their opportunity. Spring showers during the two day fiesta was not uncommon, and some vendors even sold umbrellas and waterproof ponchos just in case. Thankfully, José never went anywhere without his black umbrella, which he opened promptly as the first sprinkles began to fall.
The smaller bird lifted his arm higher than unusual and waved his dear friend over to shelter with him. "Let’s head back, sim?"
The duck was only too glad to squeeze in close. Only his tail caught the increasing downpour, which he shook off with a happy little wag.
The walk back to the motel was more reflective than the trip that morning. Donald seemed to be holding his breath, teetering on the edge of a decision. Caution told him to leave things as they were. But he knew that Zé would be the first to tell him to go for it.
When the pair were compelled to stop at a crosswalk, Donald quickly leaned in to give José a kiss on the tip of his beak.
"Happy Independence Day!"
Zé turned to regard his friend with wide eyes, caught by surprise by the affectionate gesture. Understanding slowly dawned and a slow, warm smile arose to answer him
"Feliz Dieciocho!"
