Blair and Julia (Co-habitating gringos who embrace all that is BQ) both have late-January birthdays, so they've decided to celebrate them together, and what better way to say, "I was born twenty-blah years ago," than to pile a bunch of people into an old bus with open windows, a small percussion and fife band, give everyone a bottle of rum and drive around to various bars until the wee hours of the morning, ending up at a beachfront place called Kilimanjaro where exhaustion will ultimately overtake nearly everyone. Happy Birthday.
This is the Chiva, one of the many weird, rather diverting options on a friday night. Chaos reigns on the chiva, and the later it gets the more unabashed the dancing on the bus becomes, as the people lose their inhibitions about a dancefloor that has a five and a half foot ceiling and is hurdling along through the streets of BQ at anywhere from 30 to 60 miles an hour. There are usually enough people to keep you falling flat on your face should the driver decide to say, take a quick left or brake.
So buckle up, hold on tight, drink the rest of that bottle of rum and feel free to barf out the window when your time comes. And trust your driver, he's been trained at a special school up in the mountains, at the Chiva-Academy. Applications are available at all the finer hotels.
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