Luckily, we were still in training, so I was able to celebrate with the other volunteers. However, we were in our last week of training, so not everyone was able to make it to the party. Coincidentally, my host brother happens to have the same birthday – all the more reason for my usually conservative host parents to want to throw down. During the day while I was at training, they moved all the furniture out of the living room, put balloons everywhere, completed with strobe lights and a disco ball.
Fiestas here have the Latin American tendency of starting late. Since we had a big party the night before (another birthday party) and we had a thousand other things to do with the last week of training, most of us wanted to have a good time about 4 hours before the Peruvians wanted to have a good time.
Around 10:30pm, my host mom asked me when I wanted to eat. I assumed she meant the 3 cakes she had made – then she said no and showed me all the food (chicken, potatoes, and some other stuff). Before the party, I told her there would be about 30 people there…and she made food for 50 – and I didn’t even know that there would be food. She told me I should have assumed there would be food because we’re in Peru…oops. Hence, my host family and I ate chicken for the next few days. (pic is my host family during training)
We ate, drank, and were merry. My host dad opened up a bottle of Pisco (Peruvian liquor made from grapes) that he had been saving for 3 years. The music was mixed with American music and Latin American music. We stayed up till about 2:30am singing and dancing. Up at 7am the next day. Can I start saying I'm too old for stuff like this?