Ups and Downs
Saturday night I went to a quinceañera, which is a coming of age party for a 15 yr old girl in the Latino community, much like a Sweet 16 in the Sates. It was for a cousin on my host dad’s side of the family, some girl I’ve never met before. At first I was hesitant about going, nervous about being the token gringa, and worried about stepping on toes since I was never actually invited except by my host family. Then I realized that this was one of those “hay que aprovechar” moments… a moment that I had to take advantage of. I figured I should get used to being the only gringa and that my family wouldn’t have invited me if they thought it would be a problem. Saturday in the day I had a project to do for training and I wasn’t sure when the party started, though I asked earlier in the day and was told 9 or 10, but I thought maybe my host mom misunderstood me and thought I asked when it would be over. I came home around 5 and we ate dinner. Around 10, it was decided that it was about time to start getting ready. Mind, you my sister and parents all had to shower still. I was ready to go by 10:20 and then sat around for a very long time. Funny side story- I used my duct tape while getting ready. I realized my dress pants are too long with flats, and didn’t have the desire or time really to sew them up, so I hemmed my pants with duct tape. Luckily, no one noticed (or at least didn’t say anything) and it lasted the whole night! Yay for duct tape!
Ok. So about 11:15 we finally leave my house, and luckily the party is just down the road maybe 8 minutes and my dad borrowed a car from some family member. (yes, I have internet in my room, but we have no car- he just bought one that’s being painted, and there’s also public transport to get you everywhere). We got there just after the girl made her entrance and began dancing with every male family member just about. Then it was time to take pictures. With groups of friends. With each family group. Etc. It was decided that since I’m part of my host family’s family, that I would be in their picture. Really, it wasn’t decided, it just was. I protested some, but acquiesced since it really wasn’t up for discussion and it was a very nice gesture. I just feel bad for the girl that she now has some random gringa in her Quince photos…
After the photos, there was music and dancing and appetizers, just like any party in the states. Then it changed. Out came 2 clowns jumping around and one on stilts. They had silly string and passed out long balloons and pirate hats and clown hats and blew whistles and got everyone animated and dancing. I had to literally pick my jaw up off the floor. They call this the “hora loca” crazy hour, and believe me, it was!! My parents had gotten me to “dance” a little earlier (picture me and my host parents in their mid-late 30s and my dad’s mom who is in her 70’s dancing in a circle. It was kinda hilarious really). But the clowns had me jumping around, going in circles and laughing hysterically. I almost sprained my ankle. The Peruvians got a kick out the gringa dancing with the clowns and it admittedly was fun. Then there was more normal dancing. Well normal for 14-16 year olds aka sex on the dance floor. Around 1:45 they brought out the main meal of chicken and rice (big surprise here… not!). There was some sort of alcoholic drink being served all evening and we even got pisco sours, which are never as big as they should be.
About 2:30, my parents decided it was time to go home. I think this was partly because of me. Earlier in the day or Friday even, they asked me if I liked to amanecerse. Amanecer means dawn, so I’m thinking this means get up early. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows I do NOT do mornings and I do NOT like getting up at all early. So, I ferverently said no. Later in the convo, I realize that amanecerse does not mean get up early, but rather stay up til dawn. I’m quite a night owl so my answer shout have been more along the lines of yes, sometimes. Though here, 10:30 is a late night… At this point, I try explaining that I usually don’t go to bed until midnight or later in the States and that I don’t like mornings. Too late. All they heard was I don’t like to amanecerme. Since I wasn’t dancing (I don’t really dance much and I had done my dancing duty earlier) I was sitting at the table, watching people and enjoying the cultural experience. I think they thought I was bored. They did say that the party probably goes until 5 or 6 in the morning, and that they leave around 2 or 3, but my host sister was still dancing and enjoying herself and I felt bad having to have her leave. Pues, it was an all around good time in the end.
Sunday morning, I wanted to sleep in. I woke up around 8:30/9 to my littlest sister screaming and running past my door. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but as I would get asleep, she’d start again, or the dogs started fighting outside or the rooster would crow- something would wake me up. So 10:00 rolls around and my host mom yells through my door- Sara!! Sarita!! I begrudgingly get out of bed to see what she wants. Tomamos desayuno? Let’s eat breakfast? Sure. Whatever. I’m up already. Bad decision. I was grumpy as it was, then had to face a barrage of questions, I don’t remember what about. And I barely ate any breakfast. It was some sort of corn soup- something about a relative was fixing their roof and when you fix a roof you eat this soup because it gives you energy to work all day- and a cup of condensed milk that had been sweetened flavored and cooked, so it had a nice chunky texture. Wasn’t feeling it. I wanted a bagel and a family that knew I don’t like mornings and that I’m not too responsive to questioning when I just wake up. I think they realized, because my mom offered that I go upstairs and rest some more. So I went back to bed until about noon and then got up feeling better and did some homework, read and wrote in my journal. It was quite in my house, so I thought my family had left- maybe to go work on that roof or something. Nope. They were all taking a siesta too. The rest of the day I was asked if I was feeling better, if my stomach bothered me, etc etc. It was just one of those days. I had a tastykake, but it didn’t quite take the place of being with your own family that knows you and your oddities and it definitely wasn’t the mommy hug I had needed to get rid of my funk.
Monday morning, I got up feeling quite better, ready to see my companeros and speak some English. I was waiting outside my house for people to come down the hill and meet up to catch the bus and go to class. I saw a group a bit up the hill, but then they got into a mototaxi that one of the guys’ brothers drives. I was kinda bummed, but figured maybe they’d wait at the bottom for me. I had no idea if they were the last to go down and I’d be left alone or if there were more up top. I got to the bottom and no one was there. Great. I took the bus myself on Saturday, so I knew I could do it. But it wasn’t what I needed after the previous day’s funk I was still getting out of. I get on the bus fine. Then they ask for my fare and I gave them my 2 sol coin (it was the smallest I had) and I only got back 1 sol. The fare is usually 50 centimos (1/2 a sol) and so I asked for my other 50 cents and he was like no. I argued that I do this every day its 50. (sometimes it’s 70, but usually 50). He said, well, today its 1 sol. I got charged the gringo tax. Strike 2. I suck it up since I don’t have the desire to argue and it’s the difference between paying US 0.15 or US 0.30. Granted, I get only like $2.50 a day. I tell the guy my stop, and he doesn’t let me get off. He goes another 4 blocks or so and makes me get off there (I think because there was no one getting on at my stop, but there were people waiting at the other one). I got of the combi (bus) nearly in tears from the past 30 minutes, completely frustrated and spent. I got to class and saw the group that left me and said something and started to cry. Then got embarrassed and frustrated that I was upset. I know they didn’t mean it in a mean way and they had no way of knowing, but it was a compilation of my funk from Sunday and then everything else that happened that day. I got over it and my day got better.
We presented our mission impossible projects from Saturday and my group won (yay!). I love my sticky note cards and thank god my gallon of markers fit in my luggage. J Also, props to my host parents who are both educators and talked with me for about 2.5 hrs about education in Peru, making our project uber inclusive!
Final highlight of Monday was that I didn’t pay the combi driver on my way back home! They don’t make you pay as you get on, they shove you all on, then collect your fare en route or as you’re getting off. Well, he waited til we got off, but was shoving us off, so I got pushed off basically and had to move out of the way so I didn’t have someone on top of me. I was gonna pay, but he moved on to the next person. Had the guy in the AM not been such an ass, I would have likely made sure I paid, but I figure this way it evened out and I paid a fair price each way!
It’s been a rollercoaster. The new sheen is wearing off, we’re settling into a routine, and I’m having to get used to being back in class and having homework. I’m excited for what lies ahead, but sometimes feel like I’m already over this whole training thing. Times like Monday morning make me miss being able to just get in my car and go to work and being around my people- people who know me and my quirks and understand me. I miss being able to turn myself off. I’m always on. All day in class, at home with my host family and I still sometimes don’t feel quite like I can relax completely around the other Trainees. It’s tiring. Though I’m not really DOING anything eall day, having to think in Spanish, to be culturally aware, and having people watching your every move is rather tiresome. Sometimes, I’d like to be able to walk into the kitchen and make dinner when I want and what I want. No one can prepare you for this. No previous experience can prepare you. It’s amazing and awful all at the same time. I keep reminding myself how long I’ve waited for this opportunity and how great it will be once I’m in site and have a little more autonomy. Training is like being back in kindergarten in so many ways.
I’ll leave you with a few pictures from my town, the “big” city of Chosica that is nearby, and of the quince from this weekend. I love and miss you all. If you feel like sending anything, those notecard that stick to the wall are absolutely amazing and small dark chocolates (Dove or something like that) make the day wonderful (and can't be found in Peru).
