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.