Party in Veracruz : Mexico’s Fun-Loving Port Enjoys One of the Liveliest Carnivals in the Caribbean

“The only madhouse with a sea view.” That’s how one Jarocho , as locals here are known, characterizes this city.

Indeed, the boisterous street life of this bustling port on the Gulf of Mexico frequently verges on the insane. Veracruz’s zocalo has a reputation, in fact, as Mexico’s liveliest central square.

And at this time of the year things get even livelier. The week before Lent brings the annual carnaval , and to understand it, a visitor first must understand what passes for normal in Veracruz, especially around the white colonnaded zocalo .

In sidewalk bars, white-shirted waiters pile bottles of beer precariously on tables already overloaded with empties. Mariachi bands serenade the crowd, while strolling trumpeters, harpists and marimba players in silver-trimmed uniforms and oversized sombreros offer song lists to prospective customers. A white-faced mime, or perhaps a troupe of lavishly costumed dancers, performs for an audience gathered around the central fountain.

At the same time, a moving market threads its way between the cafe tables. Vendors offer goods of all kinds--silk hammocks and pistachios, cigarettes and embroidered dresses, preposterous model ships several feet long and elaborately rigged, even Polaroid snapshots to commemorate your evening in Veracruz.

This is everyday Veracruz. But the city really comes into its own during the weeklong carnival, when it plays host to one of the biggest fiestas between New Orleans and Rio de Janeiro. This year it is set for Feb. 20-28.

All work comes to a halt during the carnival, and everyone--visitor and native alike--gets down to the serious business of having fun. Each day the streets are filled with colorful parades that begin in mid-afternoon, when revelers have recovered from the festivities of the night before, and last into the early morning hours.

Teen-age beauty queens wave from atop outlandish floats (a giant fish on wheels, for instance), uniformed bands march endlessly, and neighborhood musicians play odd instruments that have no names in English.

Squalls of confetti fill the air. Salsa, rumba, tango, calypso--all the music of the Caribbean dances its way past the crowds watching from street level or from balconies. Many people sport elaborate costumes--some older folks, for example, dress in the fashions of their youth, while others parade about disguised as the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl or perhaps as Batman.

The carnival has always carried an undertone of social and political satire amid the festivity. This has not always set well with the authorities, but attempts by government to tone down the exuberance have invariably failed.

This year, as in years past, the first of more than 40 floats will celebrate the ritual burning of Bad Humor, a larger-than-life, papier-mache character dressed in black and scowling. In previous carnivals, Bad Humor has lampooned corrupt politicians or police officials. This year former Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega is one candidate for the role; another is President Bush. Jarochos like to poke fun through their choice and at the same time make a statement.

At the close of the carnival there is the symbolic funeral of Juan Carnaval, not a papier-mache caricature this time but a real person who wanders about the city surrounded by grieving women draped in mourning attire. Juan will, of course, be reborn the following year.

In between the burning of Bad Humor and the mock funeral of Juan Carnaval, the city throws what is virtually a nonstop party. All-night dances fill the plazas. Fireworks erupt almost continuously. The spirit is intoxicating, and those who begin as spectators usually end up as participants.

Veracruz’s light-hearted approach to life may well be a result of its turbulent past.

In 1519, Hernando Cortes and his army of Spanish Conquistadors landed at the tiny island of San Juan de Ulua in Veracruz harbor. They negotiated with envoys of the Aztec emperor Montezuma, set up a shrine to the Virgin Mary and founded the first Spanish town in the Americas. They optimistically named it Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz--the Rich Town of the True Cross.

San Juan de Ulua and the harbor were vital in the country’s trade and defense. In the 16th Century the port was repeatedly attacked by pirates, and after such infamous marauders as John Hawkins and Francis Drake successfully plundered Veracruz, the authorities of New Spain fortified the island. Even so, during a 17th-Century raid the soldiers stationed at the fort deserted their posts because they hadn’t been paid, and the town succumbed to Dutch buccaneers.

Today the “island” of San Juan is connected by a highway to the mainland and is home port to naval ships and enormous industrial tankers, signs of Veracruz’s latter-day development as the largest city and busiest port in the oil-rich state of Veracruz.

A 15-minute bus ride from the town center, the old fort, in contrast to the concrete jungle of the shipyards, looks like a kindergartner’s idea of a castle, complete with moat, drawbridge and dungeons. Its wind-swept balustrades look out over the Gulf of Mexico. Deep inside are dank, rough-hewn dungeons known as Glory, Purgatory and Hell. It is hard to believe that any of them were anything but hellish.

Centuries after the last pirate attack the harbor continued to play a role in Mexico’s defense. During the War of Independence, San Juan’s fort was the final stronghold of the Spanish, who were expelled by anti-colonial forces after a long and bloody battle in 1825. In the so-called Pastry War of 1838, the French invaded Veracruz, claiming that the Mexican government owed them money for damaged property. The supposedly impregnable fort of San Juan capitulated readily to France’s superior firepower. But the French later were persuaded to withdraw.

The United States also invaded Mexico, twice using Veracruz as the starting point. During the Mexican-American War in 1847, Gen. Winfield Scott attacked Veracruz, leading troops hurriedly through the town on the way to Mexico City to avoid the perennial yellow fever that plagued the coastal area.

During the Mexican Revolution, Woodrow Wilson sent the U.S. fleet to subdue Veracruz and hence protect the gulf.

To honor the town’s resistance to those four foreign invasions, Veracruz officially proclaims itself “four times heroic.”

The Museo Cultural de la Ciudad, Veracruz’s city museum on Avenida Zaragoza between Calle Canal and Calle Morales, celebrates these feats. It also offers intriguing details on the town’s history, such as the number of times it burned down during the 17th Century (four, aided by fierce northerly winds) and major goods that once passed through the port (such as hand grenades, silk and olive oil from Spain, and chile, cocoa, tobacco and gold from the colony).

Frequent epidemics during the 17th and 18th centuries, due to its humid tropical climate and mosquito-infested jungles, earned Veracruz the nicknames “Port of Hell” and “Graveyard of the Living.”

Early Spanish settlers hurried inland to more civilized regions. Left behind in Veracruz were sailors, merchants, Caribbean and African slaves, and random wanderers just looking for a good time.

Out of this multicultural blend of starry-eyed adventurers and sturdy vagabonds emerged the Jarocho, or Veracruz native. Jarocho culture is reckless, irreverent, insubordinate, and has produced some memorable political escapades.

In the 17th Century, for example, an Angolan slave named Yanga--who was either a bandit or liberator of the oppressed, depending on whom you talk to--led the first slave revolt in the New World. In this century vociferous Veracruz prostitutes ignited a tenants’ rebellion that helped precipitate a revolution.

Modern Jarochos are more laid-back than revolutionary; they talk slowly, dress casually, and excel in music and dance. Music is inescapable. In the zocalo alone, you hear four or five varieties at once on almost any evening throughout the year.

Those visitors inspired to try swinging to the Latin beat should head for La Bamba, a waterfront club named after the world-famous dance that supposedly originated in Veracruz.

At a little bar called La Bella Epoca, two blocks southwest of the zocalo on a pedestrian alleyway, a band of funky old men play guitars, drums and percussive gourds in the home-grown style of “sol”--not soul, but sun--which began in the 1940s. The bar’s regulars, who look old enough to know, claim that the same individuals who play today were among the founders of this syncopated, eclectic musical style.

Jarochos are fond of music and equally fond of good food, particularly seafood, which is fresh and inexpensive here. The best seafood restaurants are in the village of Boca del Rio, on the Rio Jamapa about five miles south of Veracruz. There the restaurant most often recommended is Pardino’s, which is a little more upscale than the rest, serving such dishes as octopus or sea bass with Veracruzana sauce--a delicious mixture of onion, garlic, tomatoes, olives, green pepper and herbs.

A good place in Veracruz to try some traditional Mexican favorites, meanwhile, is Restaurant Tlaquepaque, three blocks from the zocalo . There, combinations of marinated meats and fresh vegetables on tortillas can be enjoyed for less than $5 per person.

Accommodations are no problem in Veracruz, either, except during the carnival. The city has an enormous range of hotels, all of which are reasonably priced by U.S. standards. For a visit during carnival time, reservations must be made months ahead. A few rooms are available for this year’s event, but only in the budget hotels.

The most luxurious hotel on the zocalo is the Hotel Veracruz, where lovely air-conditioned rooms cost about $75 a night. Those who prefer a beach-side setting would do well to check out the architecturally splendid Hotel Mocambo, a few miles south of town at Playa Mocambo. The Hotel Mocambo has an outdoor pool set among spacious patios. Rooms are about $60 a night. More lavish and more expensive resorts share the same stretch of coast, where the dark-sand beaches are the best in the area.

For the more budget-minded traveler, several hotels near the zocalo-- such as the Hotel Imperial, the Concha Dorado and the Hotel Rex--make up in charm what they lack in luxury, offering reasonable accommodations for less than $15 a night.

How to get there: Veracruz is easily reached from Mexico City. Mexicana offers 40-minute flights from the capital twice a day. First-class ADO buses take about six hours, and leave hourly. There are no direct flights to Veracruz from the United States.

Hotels, with prices per room, not per person: Hotel Veracruz. Avenida Independencia at Calle Lerdo. $65. Hotel Mocambo. Carretera Veracruz-Mocambo, in Mocambo. $60. Hotel Emporio. Insurgencies and Xicotencatl. $55. Hostal de Cortes. Blvd. Avila Camacho at Las Casas. $70.

Inexpensive hotels at $30 or less per room: Hotel Colonial. Calle Lerdo 117. Hotel Imperial. Calle Lerdo 153. Concha Dorado, Calle Lerdo 77. Hotel Rex, Calle Morales 226.

Restaurants and night life: La Bamba. Blvd. Avila Camacho at Calle Zapata. La Bella Epoca. Lagunillo 59. Pardino’s. Calle Zamora, Boca del Rio. Tlaquepaque. Molina 363 at Madero. Gran Cafe de la Parroquia, Avenida Independencia 1187.

For more information on travel to Mexico, contact the Mexico Government Tourist Office, 10100 Santa Monica Blvd., Suite 224, Los Angeles 90067, or call (213) 203-9335.