Now I Really Feel Like a Spinster

This week Doña Blanca arrived in Pacora after leaving for a few months to undergo cataract surgery in Lima. Those of you who read about her in earlier blogs may remember her as my eccentric host grandmother who tells wild stories about her youth in Pacora. Doña Blanca sits all morning and a lot of the afternoon at the kitchen table so anyone in the kitchen becomes a subject under her reign. She is always sure to make it known when she is hungry or wants her coffee. If Mariela delays in preparing breakfast, Doña Blanca does not hold back in her complaints. She is truly a community elder who has earned her sense of entitlement and makes sure to take full advantage of her status to get what she wants. She can't hear or see very well but she has an unbelievable memory and has read about a huge range of topics. She is generally more up to date on current events in the U.S. that I am because, due to her inability to get around very well, she sits and listens to news on the radio (at full volume) for hours a day. Her virtual deafness and blindness makes it so she doesn't always notice when there is already a conversation going on and will launch into epic tales of taking produce to market 50 miles by burro or Romeo and Juliet style romances that occurred among her classmates. I love listening to her stories and I am thankful that she carries on one-sided conversations because it requires screaming in her face to talk to her and I generally don't have the energy for that. Between cultural and language barriers I already have plenty of trouble communicating with people that aren't deaf. One of the funniest Doña Blanca story telling techniques is the list. Sometimes she will start telling about the fruit trees they used to grow on her land before it became the street behind my houseand then she will start listing them similar to how Bubba lists the ways of preparing shrimp in one of my favorite scenes in Forest Gump. Her lists are always very extensive and the volume fades in and out as she thinks of more items to list. While she covers the entire inventory of whatever she happens to be talking about Mariela and I can carry on an entire conversation and then tune back in as she finishes without her noticing. In the most recent and funniest of her listing stories she listed all of her grandchildren and their skin color ranging from white to black. Doña Blanca (a nickname that refers to her white skin color relative to other Peruvians. Her real name is Evangelina) provides me with endless knowledge about topics ranging from food to world history and I am glad to have her back. I know she will be a commonly occurring character in blog entries to come.

Mariela, Doña Blanca, and I all have birthdays in the upcoming week so we decided to throw a party for some friends and family. We pushed the party up a few days so that Mariela's family who is in town to celebrate the holidays could attend. A typical Peruvian party is made up of a few key ingredients, a goat, a few crates of beer, and multiple giants speakers of the sort found at concerts. Our party had all these things so it was sure to be a success. I put in the food and Mariela suggested that she contract the speakers. Although I would have preferred to have a more American style party with the music set at volumes that facilitate conversation, I was glad to see Mariela's enthusiasm and figured that I was in the minority so I thanked Mariela for her contribution and prepared for a memorable event. True to form, the majority of guests showed up a couple of hours late and the festivities began. I am pretty sure that I consumed more calories that afternoon than I had in the week preceding it. After a few rounds of passing the communal beer glass we cranked up the volume and started to dance. My favorite part of the party was when everyone danced around me in a circle and took turns dancing with me in the center. I got quite the quad workout because lots of the people I danced with insisted on getting low. I guess that counts as the cross training that my marathon training program required for that day. The new mayor was in attendance and served me a glass or two of beer when it came his turn to choose who drank next. My site mate who had come to help me celebrate (and to provide moral support in the daunting task of participating in a Peruvian party) commented that this was a good strategy for getting work done in Peace Corps Peru and I commented that it was a good sign for the upcoming year. After dancing until I had to take off my shoes in order to attempt the fancy footwork of the local traditional dance of marinera, everyone left in good spirits. I am definitely glad to have celebrated with my friends and I even got to make some new ones. One woman in attendance is from Pacora but currently lived in Queens and she offered to show me the Peruvian cultural hot spots when I am in the U.S. and missing Peruvian culture. I only wish that I could have all my friends at my birthday party next year in the U.S. I might make those of you that celebrate with me do a little dancing for the sake of remembering the Peruvian culture that I have come to embrace.

This party was not my only birthday party this week. The women that I work with planting trees in the natural protected area near my site had been talking for a long time about doing something for my birthday so when the time came, I planned to do a lunch the day of my birthday with them. Hanging out with these women is always fun because they are a rowdy bunch who like to tell dirty jokes and dance. We started out by cooking the duck that I had brought in the traditional Peruvian way with peas, carrots, and rice, all in beer in coca cola. While we were cooking, the chickens and dogs were running around at our feet and I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the chicken that will probably serve as lunch in the near future who was pecking away at the cauldron where the duck was being cooked. The live animal and the meal it provides are not seen as two separate entities but as stages within the same process. These two elements are much closer than the cow we see in the country field and the neatly packaged t-bone steak we buy at the grocery store in the United States. The duck that I bought was plucked but was pretty much still in the shape of a duck complete with the majority of its guts. While one of the women got to hacking it apart with a VERY dull knife, I was charged with peeling the peas, which I did frustratingly slowly for the women watching me. While I stood their peeling the peas and laughing as baby chickens scurried over my feet and the kitchen filled with smoke, a maggot suddenly dropped from a hanging basket into the bowl of peas that I had peeled. Looking back on it, I took this incredibly calmly, much more calmly than I would have a year ago. Maggots, bloody duck hearts, dull knives, and eating until you think you might puke and then drinking moonshine are all things that one comes to think of as normal in my region of Peru. I will be coming back to the United States much tougher than I was and also much less likely to freak out if something isn't perfect. Along the lines of the dull knives and the maggots, we volunteers often laugh at the notion of sending a plate of food back purely because it has a hair in it. I often wonder how long it will take for me to get back into my American mindset of demanding perfect hygiene and constant refrigeration but I hope that I retain some of the toughness that I have gained here.

After putting away enough rice, duck, and msg to make me feel sick (and I have a pretty large appetite), we started the toasting. The women said some wonderful things about me and I realized that this was where I wanted to be for my 24th birthday. I miss my family and I wish they could be here but I have shared and will share many more birthdays with them. This was one of those special moments when I realize that I made the right decision in coming to Peru for two years. I go through phases where these moments are few and far between but lately, I have found myself in many situations where I say to myself, "it is pretty awesome that I am here right now." That sounds super cheesy but it's difficult not to get sentimental when people of a different culture and from such a different background than myself make an effort to make me feel like part of the crew. I have to remember these moments at times like right now when I pour my coffee into a cracked mug or last night when the heat prevents me from sleeping. I still live by the mantra that in the Peace Corps you can have the best day and the worst day of your life on the same day. After I responded by giving my own sentimental toast thanking the women for the lessons that they have taught me over the last year, the day only got better as I got to dance with all of the women and we laughed and joked around. One of the most interesting moments was when I bonded with one of the women over both being 24, granted this was as she nursed her fourth child. We are looking forward to celebrating her 25th together in June. I don't have much opportunity to hang out socially with these women. Usually we are just carrying water and planting trees and I have come to realize that I need to create more social opportunities because they have been some of the most welcoming and consistently supportive people that I have met. It is easy to fall into staying in my room and watching Lost on my laptop during my free time (What is going to happen?!), it is important to get out and spend time with the people who make my life here worthwhile.