Deck the Halls

Hi guys! I know, it’s been awhile…sorry! It’s not because unexciting things are going on, it was actually because too many things were going on and I couldn’t find a chance to write. But, to let you all know, I survived Christmas without a tear shed! I wouldn’t say the same for Christmas Eve, that’s a different story but Christmas Day was a day well spent. Although Christmas has come and gone, but for me, it’s still happening because I am continuing to receive all of your all’s thoughtful gifts! Really, you’re amazing. Uncle Jeff and Aunt Debbie? You must have noticed that my skin complexion is deteriorating due to the 98% humidity and I thank you for the Neutrogena Wave! My face already feels more exfoliated and clean (they have a 100% guarantee folks). Also, my dad is going to buy crabs tomorrow so they can try the old bay with them! I have no idea how my family is planning on preparing the little crustaceans but with enough old bay, it’s gotta taste pretty good. And Uncle Tim and Patty? I’m using that amazon gift card to finally buy a constellation map of the southern hemisphere and maybe a yoga book so I can be a semi-professional yoga teacher. So thanks for all of that fam!

This week I have been exposed to a los of new customs. I have learned to eat paneton and drink hot chocolate with ease (despite the fact that I truly believe it has been the cause of all of my diarrhea this week), drink pisco straight from the bottle (brings me back to my Kumchaka vodka days of college), milk cows and celebrate Christmas Peruvian style. I will now detail for you all, the events that passed on Dec. 24th and 25th.

I woke up Christmas Eve at 5:30 in the morning so I could go with my cousin Ronny to get the daily milk. From a cow’s udders. We walked up a hill to my neighbor’s house and I sat in awe as I watched my first cow get milked. It was awesome! My sister came along for the ride too and remarked at one point how one of the calfs was “bien gordita” (pretty fat). I then replied in broken Spanish (yes, it’s still broken) that just because this particular calf’s ribs weren’t protruding like Christian Bale’s in “The Machinist” doesn’t mean it’s fat. It means it’s not starving to death from eating solely dry crumpled corn husks. She didn’t see my point. This is interesting for me to note because I consider my sister “bien gordita” and think it would be a good idea for her to lay off the butter and sugar for a bit (then again, I should probably too). So yes, after that was finished we walked down with about a liter and a half of warm, fresh, leche de vaca. I was in a great mood. This mood was severely shaken (not broken, just rattled) when I passed by cute little ol grandma’s house. My uncle Keko was outside skinning one of the sheep my cousin herds around all day. Now, I was okay with what I was watching because I recognized it as a glimpse of the Circle of Life but couldn’t help but commenting how mean it was to have two other sheep brought out and tied up right next to their now, hair-less friend, getting a glimpse of what lay in store for them in about ten more minutes. Once again, my perro Blanco was chewing on something raw and rather grizzly looking (not to mention fresh out of the abdominal cavity) and made myself promise I would never let him lick me again. I def. heard a few animal’s cries and bleeps cut short suddenly throughout that whole day. YUM! peta obvi hasn’t made its way down south yet. Don’t worry, we had chicken for dinner.

Later that afternoon, my sister roused me from my afternoon siesta to tell me there were some community moms outside wanting to speak with me. Thinking this was going to be a conversation about teaching English classes, I sat down on a bench as ten mothers came around and swarmed me like chum in a shark tank. One introduced herself and after saludos were exchanged, asked me if I could be a madrina, or godmother to her son who was graduating from primary school next week. I was once warned in training to be wary of being a godparent because it at times, can leave you in debt to financially aiding children which can really suck. However, I was told I was going to be only a “second godmother”, which all I had to do was buy a little quarter of a cake for a kid for his graduation party. Feeling like this couldn’t end too badly, I said yeah, I can buy a cake and come to your party on Tuesday night. This is when it got bad. The mothers invaded my house to talk to my mom. I then found out that there was not just one child involved, there were seventeen. I accepted into being a godmother to seventeen of them slash buying seventeen fourths of a cake. I had been tricked (or so it felt like it). After they left, my dad informed me of the cost of these little “cakes” and after doing the math, it looked like I was about to spend a fourth of my monthly stipend buying sweets for kids I had never met before. He also informed me that the mothers had come to me because they assumed I had money because I am white. How little do they know. In reality, I am poor and a volunteer but they don’t see it that way. So as a result, I felt tricked AND used. And shitty. I threw my mango on the floor, stomped to my room and shut my door when I proceeded to have a little mini cry sesh. I think the crying was also provoked by the fact that I was 4000 miles away from home for Christmas and Josh Groban’s “Silent Night” was playing in the background.

Unfortunately for my friend Maggie, she called in the middle of all of this. I, like an emotional woman during her time of the month, cried and said I wanted to go home (sorry you had to be the one on the other side of the line, mags I swear I’m not always like that). I went to lie down on the bed so I could talk in a more relaxed manner when my bed collapsed out from under me and fell into three pieces. This provoked more tears and anger at the fact that people believe you can sleep comfortably on wooden slats with cardboard covering them in the first place (there is a little thin mattress that goes on top of the cardboard, no worries). However, after time, I calmed down, collected my thoughts, got my brother to re-nail my bed together and took a nap (disclaimer: the next day I went to one of the mothers and informed them that Peace Corps didn’t allow me to take part in any godparent business for reasons that in reality, are completely invalid but worked enough so that I got out of being a madrina and now don’t have to worry about getting 17 professionally decorated cakes for little rugrats).

With regards to what we actually did Christmas-related on Thursday was completely different than what I was used to. Part of the family went to Mass and afterwards, sat around (I took a powernap) until midnight when we lit fireworks and ate dinner. Dinner was actually pretty good minus the wine that was served that tastes like (and I quote my Tumbes friend Greg) “Welsch’s grape juice with three times as much sugar.” We had chicken and rice (a novelty), pasta (bleh) and tomatoes (mmm!) with paneton (fruitcake like- double bleh) and chocolate cocoa. Afterwards, we all sat outside and passed the botella while drinking wine and pisco. I finally called it quits around 2 and hit the hay.

I will give my family a lot of credit though. They really tried hard to make my Christmas as American-friendly as possible. They made a makeshift stocking for me and filled it with candy and gave me a set of earrings, a ring and a Peruvian party shirt (*see 80’s styled clothing) that really meant a lot to me. They really are good people. My mom Rebecca (mother of Pili) from Tres de Octubre also called to wish me a Feliz Navidad which was super great and sent love from the whole fam. I miss them a lot too. They said that my room is still vacio if I want to come back whenever to use it.

Okay, I wasn’t really planning on writing this much for just Christmas Eve so I’ll pick up my next story (Christmas Day) in my next blog so you all don’t feel like your eyes are going to pop out. To be continued…