Party time

Happy February to all; I’m sure it’s cold as ever over there but, down here, it’s been hitting 100 degrees every day. As I write this, I’m sitting on my cement floor (the couch in my house it too hot) and I have a portable fan stuck next to my face. The only problem is, is that this hand-held fan operates on two batteries and I get the feeling that they’re starting to lose their juice. The fan is beginning to smell like burning rubber and the blades definitely aren’t spinning around as quickly as they used to.

Eff.

So as I’m sure you all have been hearing that Peace Corps is getting ready to celebrate their 50^th anniversary. Despite the fact that we definitely have not been in Peru that long, we’re still taking the opportunity to throw a bunch of parties. There will be two in Lima at the end of the month and one in each department where the volunteers are located. Personally, I think a lot of this money could be going to other things (grants mostly) but people like parties more so that’s what’s happening. However, those are only my personal opinions. The one in Tumbes is set for the 22^nd and we’re expecting around 100 people to come. I’m scheduled to speak a little bit and the idea of it is making me quite nervous.

Anyways, on the subject of parties, summer is the time to have them. I’m not sure why people plan it like that because there are infestations of biting bugs, torrential rains, and the general heat and humidity makea it hard to sit still anywhere for more than a few minutes. I told you all about the party and dances we had in San Juan back in January, but did I tell you about being chosen as a judge for a beauty pageant for my annex town a few weeks later? Talk about stress.

I woke up one morning at around 7, par usual, and was drinking my coffee and eating my bread when someone came to my door to speak with me from a party committee. Hoping to dissuade this woman from even thinking about asking me to participate in anything, I chose not to change out of my pj s nor brush my teeth before walking outside to meet her. However, my bad breath didn’t manage to scare her away.

“ Buenos Dias Inssy” (unless I’ve gone through multiple instruction, my name pronunciation remains a mystery to many).

“Buenos Dias” I say, “ What can I help you with”?

“Porfa (short for por favor, or please), be a judge for our beauty pageant tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night? A. Isn’t that short notice and B. I don’t like judging things, the last time I judged something it was a kite contest and I almost got mutenized for my decision.”

“ No no no, don’t worry, you’ll be great- just buy a present and be at the stage tomorrow.”

So I went, and it was interesting.

I went of course, at the hour I was told (8pm) and when I got there, I didn’t see a soul. The only thing I did see was a “stage” made out of long tables COVERED in flying, biting ants. It was disgusting. I couldn’t even see the tablecloth underneath because no joke, the place was crawling with bugs. Throughout the night I got used to crickets dive-bombing my head and beetles getting stuck in between my bra and shirt.

At 11pm everything finally got started. Being a woman of the 21^st century, I’m not sure how comfortable I feel judging other girls based on their body type and how “beautiful” they are, but they’re popular here so I took part and just felt super awkward when all the men gathered around the stage to whoop, holler and whistle when the girls walked around in their bikinis.

By the end, two out of three girls were names Miss Aniversay and Miss Tacural. I gave my present to the third one because a. she got a shitty deal, being the only won to not win something and because I voted for her for 1^st place. I hope she enjoyed the Tootsie Rolls and sparkly shirt.

This past Valentine’s day, my cousin’s orquestra, Yenner Artur, had another show in my town but this time in the evening. Despite the fact that I usually don’t like Valentine’s day, this “baile” or dance if you will, actually made this Valentine’s more or my memorable ones.

I showed up with the rest of my family relatively soon after the band started to play. As I’ve mentioned before, the 15+ people in the band all practice at my house and at least 5 sleep here when they are putting on a show. So I’ve gotten to know their faces, but I would definitely not say we have long conversations about philosophy and or the chance of an apocalypse in 2012.

So imagine my horror when I was called to go up on the stage in front on the rest of my town to receive a hairy stuffed animal on behalf of the band for Valentine’s day. I was standing quite peacefully and enjoying the music and beer when I heard the name “Inssy” come over the loudspeakers with the band all looking at me. Now I’m embarrassed to talk in front of a lot of people in English let alone Spanish, so imagine my mortification when I was asked to dance ON STAGE and in front of everyone to some serious booty-shaking music. After what seemed like 5 minutes of dancing and moving my hands in a circular motion (my dance resembled waxing a car), I was given the stuffed animal and got down as quickly as I could.

After a mere five and a half hours and after sitting on a greasy piece of chicken in a pretty blue dress, I decided to call it a night. However, passing five hours now doesn’t feel nearly as long as it used to when I first arrived to Peru and staying anywhere for more than three hours screamed torture.

Maybe it’s because my dance skills have improved.