My Golden Birthday

Okay, albeit that I have not written about my 24th birthday that occurred a month and a half ago, my mother INSISTS it needs to be made known how amazing my host family is. Well yes, they are great. Milton, Yeni, Pol and Prixi have given me more than I could have ever asked for in a host family. They are no longer a host family. They are my family. Granted, I get angry sometimes that Prixi eats all of my food the second I put down my fork or how Milton refuses to do any “women’s work” which somehow includes getting a new roll of toilet paper for the bathroom, but I blame those on cultural differences. If there ever was any doubt about how much my host family cares for me, I just have to think back to my most recent birthday.

This is my second birthday in Peru; my 23rd passed just amazingly with tons of dancing, hugs and good food and I really did not think there was any way March 24th could have been redone this year. I really have been quite lucky with my birthdays; my 22nd I spent with my best friends singing “ Footloose” at Bricksteet, my 21st well, I think I was studying for a genetics exam. Okay, maybe my 21st wasn’t the best put I did manage to have a large margarita at Burrito Loco in Oxford, Ohio. Point is, is that I have great friends who always manage to look out for me and ensure that I have a great time.

So I woke up Thursday morning (my birthday) at seven in the morning. I use the term “woke up” loosely here; I had been up the whole night killing the 30 blood-sucking mosquitoes that had entered my beach front hostel room and had feasted on my flesh. The walls of the room looked as if a murder had taken place- there was blood everywhere from where I managed to smack a few mosquitoes to death. Okay so I “woke up” but in reality I was exhausted. Chris had come up from his site in Piura to help me bring in my new year and I think he was greatly regretting his decision.

I managed to make it to my house around 10am. The door was wide open with a ginormous poster with balloons pasted on the front door. It read (and I translate):

“Happy Birthday Lindsey! Your family wishes you a great day. We hope that your day is special and is full of surprises. Love,

And then it listed 39 of my closest family members and friends (including the dogs)."

So that was actually made by my aunt Maritza (the one who organized the kite contest). She’s awesome. After making ourselves at home I realized that Yeni was cooking in fact, my favorite lunch too! Papa a la huancaina with arroz arabe and chicken. My mouth was watering already.

After lunch, Chris and I basically just hung out until I garnered the strength to take Chris on a tour of San Juan. This was at his request and I absolutely did not feel like walking around outside in the heat and sun but whatever. I knew something was up when he asked if he could see the river. The Tumbes river is brown, contaminated and smells.

After our “tour” of the river and coming across a four foot long gigantic black and green spotted lizard (I would say iguana but I don’t think iguanas come in the size of large terriers) we made our way back to the house which had the door and windows all closed. By this point I may have had an idea that something was happening but I had no time to think about it because before I knew it, the door was flung open, confetti thrown in my face, music put on at 100000000 decibels and 30 people were inside screaming with leis and blowing whistles. It was sensory overload.

My living room had been transformed into a discoteque floor- balloons had been hung from the ceiling and streamers were suspended in the air from the ceiling. Someone had donated and hooked up their tv to play music at an incredibly loud volume and the dining room table was overflowing with food made and brought by everyone. Even some of the other volunteers showed up! We immediately started a dance fest, congo lines and were jumping up and down to the fist-pumping beats and there were kids from 2 years old to my old friend Victor who is approaching 75. It was incredible. But the best was yet to start and I soon realized as someone strapped a Mardi Gras-esque mask on my face that the “hora loca” had begun. Hora loca translates as “crazy hour” and is the highlight of most concerts, weddings and birthday parties. This is the time when one is expected to dance for one hour non-stop with confetti and firecrackers being set off. I had silly string covering my body within moments and ingesting that toxic stuff is probably what gave me the migraine later on. But for the moment it was crazy. We feasted on cubes of cheese and hotdog, crackers, cookies, toffees, candies, lollipops and alfajores. I ate everything (minus the hotdog). I also managed to drink a beer or two. I was overwhelmed (once again) with gifts from people that had no reason to give me anything and could have spent their money much more wisely on their family. Even Steven from my yoga class rode his bike to my house to give me a set of earrings and hair clips he had picked out (he’s 10). I was once again, humbled by Peruvian’s generosity.

As people began to trickle out of the house two hours later, I was left in amazement of how much planning had gone into everything and how many people chipped in to help organize everything. I once again, was left speechless at my host family’s level of generosity and how much they have accepted me into their family. As I look at the calendar and realize I have less than six months of service left, I begin to feel the inklings of fear that my time here is now running short and the day does not seem so far off when I will have to leave these amazing people I have grown to love.

Party of the Year

It´s a rite of passage- a girl´s 15^th birthday. I´d warrant that it´s a bigger deal in one´s life than a wedding in Northern Peruvian culture. Have any of you ever seen the MTV show “My Sweet 16”? Yeah, kinds like that, but without the Hummers, belly dancers or chocolate fountains.

But in my town, there was a car, there were 300 people and 5 goats-worth of food. And a fountain- but instead of being able to dip slices of pineapple and strawberries, this one was coming out of the cake.

Prixi turned 15 on April 19^th. I remember when I first got to Tumbes and I remember asking her how old she was (13), her 15^th birthday seemed decades away. In reality, it was only a year and a half but still, it came and it was awesome.

I originally thought the family wasn’t going to do anything for a lack of money- I thought they were just going to have a few of her closest girlfriends form school over for a nice lunch. I was totally cool with that. But then one day back in March my host dad mentioned that he was thinking in something bigger.

“Like how much bigger, Milton? Maybe her teachers would come too”?

“ No, like a fiesta.”

Bingo.

For the next month and a half there were papers strewn around the house with lists of invites, and whispers of gossip around town saying that Milton (my host dad and one of the more economically-successful men in the town) was throwing Prixi a huge party, complete with a concert from my cousin’s band, Yenner Artur. These whispers did turn out to be true and by the time it came to send out invitations, 400 people were expected to attend.

So naturally, my host parent’s had been going crazy the last few weeks getting everything in order. Food had to be catered, chairs had to be rented, appetizers had to be made and dresses had to be bought. One of the main concerns was what to do about Prixi’s large foot size. She is easily a size ten and well, most Peruvians aren’t made that way. I’m a 9 and people gawk at my “club-feet.” So there aren’t a surfeit of extra-large high heels in the market. To my horror, Prixi and Yeni (my host mom) remembered that I had just attended Peace Corps’ 50^th anniversary and wore a beautiful pair of Stuart Weitzman heels that Emily had sent me (she’s the best) and asked me if Prixi could try them on. My blood ran cold as I watched Prixi’s size 10 WIDE-foot wedge itself into my shoes and felt my teeth clench as the leather straps bulged while she took a walk across the kitchen. That night when my mom called, I immediately explained the situation and we decided that my mom and dad would send Prixi her own pair of shoes as a 15^th birthday present. Some of you may be judging me at this point because I didn’t want to lend her my shoes but they are (other than my computer, Kindle and camera) the ONLY nice thing I own here. So naturally, I am protective.

Thanks to Em’s amazing shopping capabilities, a paIr of beautiful silver shoes came in the mail 3 weeks later for Prixi and fit perfectly.

So more about the party…

The day of the party was a blur. I actually woke up with a migraine but managed to get rid of it right a few hours before the party started. I modeled my dress for my host mom and aunt who immediately declared that it was not tight enough around the chest and took to sewing it to “ump” my assets. These Peruvian women work wonders with a needle and thread.

Perhaps the most interesting event of the afternoon was being nominated to pluck Aunt Isa’s eyebrows. Isa has a legitimate uni and has never touched her eyebrows in all of her life. Jenna, if you are reading this, think you at age 10 before going to Diana’s Nails. So there I was, straddling Isa with a pair of tweezers for 45 minutes just trying to make progress. People would walk by and all I could think to myself was “If I was in the States right now, I would be judged.” But here, TOTALLY normal. It was overwhelming at times because her daughter (and my cousin) Yojani kept wanting me to pluck more but I knew a) I’d be there all night if I tried to actually thin her eyebrows and oppose to just getting rid of badly-placed hair and b) her eyelids would look like tomato wedges form swelling. We finally settled on a good look for her and even today, a week later, she told me she liked them. Yeah!

So eventually the big night arrived. I showered, actually put mascara on and waited patiently as Prixi had two hours worth of hair styling done. As the rainy season has come super late we decided the day before that instead of having the party outside as planned on the street in front of my house, we would all fit into the communal center in the center of town. The inside looked as if hot pink had been thrown up everywhere. People waited patiently for Prixi to arrive Cinderella-style in a decorated station wagon (horses not included) and somehow squeeze out of the backseat with her dress that had a metal hoop at the bottom and everything.

From there the ceremony commenced which included a choreographed dance by four family members around Prixi as she twirled and swayed to the music (a little bizarre), my two 5-year old cousins walking up (kind of like ring bearers) with her makeup and shoes that were later put on by her godmother and godfather, lots of dancing and speeches and then finally, a toast. I was starving by the time the food came around that I was embarrassingly picking up plates that hadn’t been eaten and devouring the chicken tamales. Yummmmm.

After the food, everyone started to dance and drink. I had a 1 AM bus to catch to Piura so I had to leave early, but not too early so that I wasn’t able to dance to a few salsa songs, have a few glasses of beer and steal a few handfuls of appetizers (which ironically, are given out at the END of the night). I came back yesterday and Prixi showed me all of the 100 gifts she managed to rake in. Contents: - 12 photo albums, at least 10 picture frames, 13 bottles of body lotion/perfume things and countless massive, singing, light-up teddy bears. I promptly decided that I should celebrate my tenth 15^th birthday next year.