Thanksgiving 2010: Turkey, Stuffing and Frog Milkshakes

This Thanksgiving I made my way down south, to the department of Arequipa. And when I say south, I mean waaaaaay south; Cajamarca could not be further away if it tried. While we share a border with Ecuador, Arequipa is practically a part of Chile.

They also like to think of themselves as their own separate country, joking that passports are required to enter their “independent republic.” Kind of like Texas, if you will, which is one more reason to love it. Another reason: Arequipa is renowned for their delicious food. From ceviche to rocoto relleno (a wonderfully spicy pepper stuffed with beef and cheese) to queso helado (literally translates to frozen cheese, which sounds gross but is oh-so-good), Arequipa is sure to burst your buttons. What better place to celebrate Thanksgiving, no?

This trip was scheduled over a year ago, upon learning that two volunteers would be placed there with a family that runs a buffet restaurant… I’ve been drooling in anticipation ever since.

The city of Arequipa, second largest in Peru, is stunningly beautiful, with mountainous views, cobble-stone streets and gleaming white buildings (it is nicknamed “The White City,” as most of its buildings are constructed from a white volcanic rock called sillar).

While I was chiefly concerned with what, exactly, I would eat in Arequipa, I completely forgot to do any research on what else there is to see and do there. Fortunately for us, our volunteer friend John met us in the city and gave us the grand tour. John just happens to be an aspiring Chef, so our tour was actually 78% food-related, which was a-ok me.

Just a couple of "yankees" down from the north

Our fantastic tour-guide John, coincidentally, is from the Independent Republic of Texas

Plaza de Armas at dusk

Between stuffing ourselves silly every two to three hours, we managed to see the sights, including a tour of the beautifully medieval Monastery, dating back to the 1500’s. One of the highlights of the tour was our trip to the local market, which I always love in Peru. There is so much bustling about, as locals buy and sell their produce, meats, spices and just about anything else you could require. Plus, there’s always that one unique feature that identifies a city within its market stalls. In Iquitos, it was the witch-craft loot. In Arequipa, the frog milkshake stand fills that role. Said to relieve stress, the shake consists of a whole frog, skinned, sautéed (but not gutted or de-boned) and puréed with a milk-like substance.

In the end, it’s not a bad little snack, except that it’s hot, slightly lumpy and everyone is aware of the fact that it’s made from frog guts. In addition, your appetite is somewhat curbed by watching them kill the live frogs right in front of you. This involves pulling one unlucky fellow from an aquarium, banging him against a table a few times, then in a rapid flurry of movements, the skin is peeled off in one foul swoop. After that, it’s into the frying pan for you, my little friend! As for the stress-relief, I’m not so sure about that, unless you really despise frogs and wish them ill will.

The lovely Monastery

More fun things for sale in the Market: Alpaca!

The "frog juice" stand

A cute fake frog amongst the real ones...to lighten up the mood, I suppose?

If you look closely, you'll see the froggy in his right hand, literally on his last legs. HaHa.

On Thanksgiving morning, we made our way to Chivay, where a group of 18 people were waiting in the restaurant to begin cooking. The owners of the restaurant, Enrique and Amanda, were so excited about our presence there that they gave us complete access to the kitchen and all of its equipment, even pulling out chef’s uniforms for all of us to don. Dividing responsibilities, we made the most perfect Thanksgiving spread, with turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry, mashed potatoes, biscuits and more. Take a dozen or so semi-starved Peace Corps volunteers and throw them into an opportunity like this, and you’re sure to have some serious over-indulgence on your hands, almost bordering on the obscene. Most of us were forced to adopt the gross-Peruvian-man technique of lifting up the shirt and appreciatively rubbing the belly.

On the ride to Chivay, we passed over this spot, which is over 16,000 feet above sea level. It's what I imagine Mars to look like.

Tasted even better than it looks!

In order to feel slightly better about our gluttonous behavior the day before, we spent most of Friday on a “bike and hike” excursion (only after starting the morning off with espresso and left-over pie). Chivay just happens to be at the base of the Colca Canyon, which is the deepest in the world. In your face Grand Canyon! We spent the next few days touring different Peace Corps sites around the canyon, taking in the sights and even accidentally stumbling upon a giant condor up close, which are famous in the area (some tourists come just for this, and spend hours or sometimes days looking for them). Then it was back to the city for a last 24-hour session of stuffing our faces… or fatting up for the winter, as I like to think of it.

Sharing the roads with local ladies and local llamas

Colca Canyon

Most homes here are built out of stone, and blend in perfectly with the lanscape

Typical dress of Arequipa

Our bike ride took us to some pre-Incan tombs... creepy

Bones everywhere

According to local custom, I left my offering

Kristen's site, Cabanaconde, is the starting point for most hikes into the Canyon

Our accidental condor sighting

This trip just reminded me why Thanksgiving is my personal favorite. It is the underdog of holidays, Christmas’s red-headed stepchild. But it is the most genuine of holidays… no gifts, no jingles, just food. And family, of course. Many thanks to Jean, Russ, John, Kristen, Enrique, Amanda and all the others who welcomed us into their Arequipa family.

Now, as we all know, Thanksgiving is all about sharing, so I give to you all the delectable recipe for frog milkshakes (roughly translated into American ingredients), just in case you want to serve them at your next get-together. Provecho!

• 1 large frog, skinned and sautéed over a low flame (see first photo below)
• 1 TBSP honey
• 1 cup of ground cereal
• 2 tsp Bee Pollen
• 1 tsp chocolate syrup
• 2 cups soy milk
• 1 whole, uncracked, quail egg (see second photo below)

Throw all ingredients into a blender, mixing until (somewhat) smooth and creamy. Enjoy with friends!

Missed Opportunities

I’ve had a tough run of luck in 2010. This year alone, I have lost, broken or been robbed of three bank cards, two iPods, one passport, four computer chargers, one digital camera, two sets of house keys, one pair of shoes, three cell phones and one laptop.

Granted, I’ve never been accused of being overly careful with my personal possessions, but this seems a little excessive, even for me. I am convinced that all of Peru is conspiring against me… and then laughing heartily as I discover just how difficult it is to replace ANYTHING in this country. It often involves a trip to Lima, double the amount of money it would cost in the U.S., and weeks of waiting (or sometimes months, in the case of a passport or bank card). Don’t even get me started on the paperwork involved. I once tried to exchange a shirt for a different size here, the same exact shirt mind you, and it took me two hours, four store employees and no less than seven signed documents to accomplish my task.

I’m not sure if it’s a mistrust issue, arising from years of dealing with poverty and corruption, but Peruvians absolutely adore official documentation. If you want to meet with the director of the High School, for example, you must first take three copies of a meeting request to his secretary, each stamped and signed, and she will in return stamp and sign all copies, keeping one for the director, one for their files and the final for you. All this just to request a meeting… the actual meeting itself involves lots more paper, stamps and signatures. At first the process left me befuddled, but now I have been converted. I won’t even consider attending a meeting in town unless the proper channels have been executed via my secretary (aka host brother, Jhon). And I’m even on my second pad of stamp ink!

Anyhow, back to the issue at hand: my losses over the course of this year. Although the laptop was arguably the greatest setback (I mean, how else am I expected to watch all those bootlegs DVDs I’ve acquired?), a recent loss has utterly brought me to my knees. Somehow, both of my camera chargers have disappeared. With dead batteries and no way to charge them, my picture-taking has come to a screeching halt. New and hilarious events cross my path daily, yet I have no way of capturing them. Tragic. Absolutely tragic.

To add insult to serious injury, the last two months have been filled with more ridiculousness than I could have ever hoped for. Considering I am literally the only one in town who finds life in San Miguel odd and entertaining, I simply must share these things with outsiders. I realize the effect is not nearly the same without visuals, but in the interest of continuing to blog about this amusing life, I shall do my best to portray what my lenses currently cannot.

Top Things I’ve Wanted to Capture on Film, But Couldn’t:

1. The “New” Ferris-Wheel. While I mentioned in a previous blog that this year’s festival was essentially the same as 2009’s, I overlooked one major detail. This year included one additional joy for the kiddies… a shiny new ferris-wheel! Well, calling it new might be a slight exaggeration. Each seat consisted of two pieces of plywood roughly slapped together with rusty nails. I can only assume it was put together for the World’s Fair Paris, 1889.

Best part… are you ready for this?... the wheel was turned not by a motor, but by two guys grabbing the sides and pulling down in swift motions. I kid you not. The two guys did this for hours on end, night after night. I feel sure this provided more entertainment for me than for the kiddies riding on the archaic disaster-waiting-to-happen. “Sure you don’t want to hop on?” the wheel turners asked me multiple times, as I hovered around like a creep. No thanks… think I’ll stick to the firework towers for now.

2. Trick-or-Treat. If you read my blog from last year, you will know that Peru doesn’t celebrate Halloween, they celebrate Day of the Dead and All-Saints Day. Remember, party in the cemetery, complete with dancing, hot dog vendors and campfires? While this is all well and good, I still missed the traditions from my native land.

So I lectured to a few kids in San Miguel about costumes, going door-to-door and the bags full of candy that we know and love in the U.S. It was early October at that point, so I had forgotten all about it until Halloween day arrived and one of the little boys called me from his mom’s cell phone to schedule a time for his “trick or treat appointment.” Thank heavens I had just received a huge bag of candy from my aunt in the States, or else I would have ended up with some angry kids (I do recall mentioning the “trick” part could involve toilet papering and/or egging someone’s house. Stupid!).

Sure enough two little boys showed up at my door promptly at seven o’clock, dressed in what they thought to be appropriate costumes. One was a “dead zombie skateboarder” and the other was an “army killer with a knife.” They were so earnest and adorable that I ended up giving them half my candy stash.

Word spread like wildfire throughout the town that the gringa was giving out candy, so I ended up with every kid within a 5-mile radius, parading their homespun costumes and demanding their fair share of the loot. It cost me every one of my precious chocolates, but it was worth it to see them indulge in what I would consider to be one of the great American traditions.

3. Traveling in Style. Getting to and fro in rural Peru is always a treat. You literally never know what to expect. Sometimes it’s a good surprise, like when the car gets stopped for an hour as 250 llamas cross the road. Other times, not so good, like when you get stopped for three hours by landslides and impassible roads.

More often than not, however, the surprise comes from how many objects, living and non, can be stuffed into a mid-sized sedan. At current count, my record is eleven people, two large pieces of furniture, five sacks of potatoes and a crate of cuyes. It is certainly not unusual to carry animals along, as their owners will often sell them in the city for a better price. The question of how to carry a live animal is simple: tie it up and strap it to the roof. This is no new thing for me, but my last trip to the capital shook things up a bit.

We picked up a man along the road who was traveling with a rather large goat. He refused to put it on the roof because it was cold outside and he did not want the goat to pick up a sniffle… that could seriously lower his asking price, after all. Peruvians have a hard time saying “no” to anything, so the goat was hog-tied around the ankles and tossed in the back with the luggage. The goat was not pleased with this situation.

I happened to be sitting directly in front of it, so I spent the ride with his head on my shoulder, bleating as loudly as possible into my ear. I couldn’t even get upset, because it was just so funny. You would’ve laughed too, especially if you could’ve seen the picture.


4. Camp. This past weekend I had the pleasure of hanging out with 26 teenage boys, which always makes for some photogenic moments. The event was a leadership camp in Cajamarca run by us Peace Corps volunteers, and we each brought two upstanding kids from our town to participate. The kids participated in leadership activities, toured the local University, spoke with community members in a Professionals Panel and got the chance to interact with other adolescents from around the department. We also threw in some fun, and for many of them, it was the first time travelling to the capital city, first time riding an escalator (there is only one in all of Cajamarca), first time going to the movies and first time swimming in a pool.

While I really enjoyed watching them take interest in college courses, discuss future plans and improve their leadership skills, it was the social aspect that really made me fall in love with these kids. While they were all timid at first, by the end of the first day boys from opposite ends of the department were working together, joking with each other and even walking around arm in arm. It reminded me just how loving the people of Peru can be; they will show their affection toward you in a million ways, even if you were a stranger just the day before. After all, how many American boys (juniors in High School, at that) would put their arm over a male friend’s shoulder as if it were nothing?

Although I don’t have the physical photo, that image will forever remain with me.

5. Sheep-head Soup. It’s not that I’ve never eaten sheep-head soup… trust me, I’ve licked that bowl clean and asked for seconds. But when you witness the process of making it for the first time, it can come as a real shocker. For me, this event happened a few weeks ago when Uncle Tio 2 came to visit (Host Mom’s long-lost older brother who lives in the Jungle, not to be confused with regular Uncle Tio, who lives next door). To celebrate the auspicious occasion, we did what any regular family would do (at least in biblical times): slaughter a sheep. In case you’re wondering, watching a sheep being killed falls right in the middle of the livestock-death scale… worse than watching a cuy go but not nearly as bad as a pig.

The unpleasant part comes when you watch all the pieces coming out and realizing what you’ve been eating over the last year. I’ve learned from experience that ignorance is bliss when you tell yourself everything is breast meat. Those days, unfortunately, have been ripped from me, and I now know exactly what mondongo really is. Although I was generally grossed out by most of this, the fun and photo-worthy part came when we finally ate our sheep-head soup the following day at lunch.

I guess I’ve always just been served a bowl without looking in the pot before, because I assumed the name was just an adorable way of saying that sheep meat was involved. No, no, the title is literal, my friends. Mid-way through our bowls, Uncle Tio 2 opens the pot and proudly pulls out the entire sheep head, then commences to display it as a centerpiece on the table. I thought he was joking as he asked who wanted the eyeball. Turns out Grandma really likes eyeball. The entire family then bartered over ears, lips, tongue, you name it, as the poor little lamb was carved up, Thanksgiving-turkey style.

So for those of you looking to mix up the menu a bit next week, let me know if you’d like the recipe for sheep-head soup!

And Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

A Brief Reprieve From Donkeys and Drinking-Circles

I know you all tune into this blog mainly to read about my seemingly endless supply of weird food and/or livestock stories, but I must take a short break from my mindless musings to bring you a posting with substance. I know, I know… this is certainly not my strong suit. But let’s give it a whirl, shall we?

As aforementioned, I have been working with a group here in San Miguel that is aimed at helping the disabled population in the surrounding area. When you take a disability and throw in the factors of extreme poverty and a remote location, the problem is exacerbated greatly. There are very few resources here; case in point: San Miguel’s health clinic is equipped with one wheelchair, which, I kid you not, is a plastic lawn chair rigged up with two small wheels on the bottom.

In addition to the physical problems, the handicapped of San Miguel have to deal with the stigmatism of an uneducated population. Many people look at them as freaks and treat them like outcasts.

For these reasons, the civil association “Grupo de Apoyo a Personas con Discapacidad,” or Group for the Advancement of Persons with Disability, was formed. The mission is two-fold: help with the necessary medical treatment and improve the overall quality of life. The group provides money for medicines, operations, etc., as well as offering sensitivity lectures for community members and special events for the disabled.

So where do I come in, you ask? Well, the group has for some time had the dream of building a rehabilitation center here in San Miguel, offering speech therapy, educational courses and more. There is currently no such facility anywhere in the department (department is to Peru as state is to the U.S.). I was asked to help with their organizational development and fundraising campaign. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to receive full funding for the center during my two years here… but that is exactly what has happened. Through multiple donations, the largest and most recent of which coming from an NGO in Germany, we have now reached our monetary goal. We have also secured a plot of land, donated by San Miguel’s Municipality, and medical/educational services through other local institutions.

The ground-breaking ceremony has already taken place and construction is beginning this week. In order to keep our investors updated with the progress of the construction, we have created a group website (just launched today!). It will be updated frequently with more photos and information… I hope you’ll check it out:

http://www.gapdperu.com/

Dreams really do come true!

The Parents' Perspective

After managing to survive their trip down south, I invited my parents to write a guest blog about their experiences and impressions. I was a bit nervous about what I would get back, fearing that they would tear my poor host-home to bits. For better or for worse, Peru is my home, my country, my people. And nobody bashes my people but me.

The overall review was not nearly as bad as I expected. I was pleased to read that my parents did appreciate some of the wonders found here, but I guess it takes time to see it all with the rose-colored glasses that I now wear after fifteen months. Sometimes I forget that Peru, in spite of the trash and because of the funny transportation situations, is an acquired taste. I find it perfectly palatable, but others may find it a bit fishy. It was odd to see Peru through fresh eyes, but in the end I enjoyed seeing the perspective. I hope you all do as well:

My husband, Ric, and I were fortunate enough to travel to Peru to visit our Peace Corps Volunteer daughter, Kimberly. I’ve never been to a third world country, so it was quite an eye opener. Kim had warned us that visiting Peru is NOT like a trip to Spain, and she was right in that respect. If you require luxury, I would suggest limiting your visit to Lima – but then you would miss out on some awesome sights. After 24 hours of travelling (actually most of this time was spent sitting in airports), we arrived in the ancient Incan capital of Cusco, gateway to Machu Picchu. We were met at the airport by our guide, German (pronounced Her-mon’), with whom Kimberly thoughtfully charged with our safety. He instructed us on what to do and not to do in this cobblestoned city set at a lofty 12,000 feet above sea level: Take it easy for a day or two, stay hydrated and eat lightly. We heeded his advice and enjoyed strolling the narrow streets, visiting sixteenth century cathedrals and Incan ruins, browsing in shops and watching beautiful dark -eyed children in colorful costumes in the beautiful Plaza de Armas, which in Inca times was the heart of the capital. My personal favorites were the little girls with baby alpacas or llamas who requested that we take our picture with them (for a small fee). Our hotel, Casa de San Blas, was quaint, rustic and very clean.

Mom with her three favorite things: German, an alpaca and a tourist-trap

Two days later we were on our way to Machu Picchu. From Cusco we took a 4 hour train ride and then a 30 minute bus ride to the site. We took the easy route. Kim and her friends hiked for 4 days on the Inca Trail, through rain, hail and snow to reach the summit above Machu Picchu at sunrise. Unfortunately, it was cloudy, so they didn’t actually see the sun come up. They slept in tents at night and were always wet and cold. When we finally met them, they looked so bedraggled! My motherly instincts made me want to give them all a bath and some cocoa. But after a hot meal, they were off and running again, describing the beauty they experienced on the Inca trail. Ric and I had a 2 ½ hour tour of the ruins with a very knowledgeable guide, Pasqual. No picture or documentary can do justice to this site. It truly is one of the wonders of the world. I’m grateful that this was one place the Spaniards did not venture, as they had the habit of tearing down Inca temples and erecting churches. They were not nearly as skilled in the art of building as the Incas, who were truly master builders. I cannot begin to comprehend how they cut blocks of solid granite with such precise angles and used no mortar. Their buildings were virtually earthquake proof, while the Spanish buildings were not. The systems of terraces, aqueducts and fountains, drainage, etc. are amazing. But what makes this place truly remarkable is its setting in the most beautiful mountains and rainforest I have ever seen. It is literally in the clouds. One moment you can’t see anything and then the clouds recede to reveal spectacular views.

The "bedraggled" travelers in need of a bath

Stones of Machu Picchu


Mountainous view behind Machu Picchu city

Post-bath, overlooking city of Cusco

We said goodbye to Cusco and flew back to Lima, a beautiful city with mountains sliding into the Pacific Ocean. It felt great to be back at sea level! We stayed in Miraflores, a lovely section of the city, dotted with parks (one was dedicated to John F. Kennedy), cafes and shops. From Lima, we headed by bus down the coast to the desert town of Huacachina. It is an oasis surrounded by towering sand dunes and is a favorite with young people who love to go sandboarding down the dunes. We all strapped ourselves into dune buggies which raced up and down the dunes, stopping occasionally for Ric and the kids to try out their sandboarding skills. I was the holder of the cameras. The outing ended with a Kodak moment as we watched the sun setting behind the sand dunes.

Miraflores, overlooking the Pacific Ocean


Riding the dunes in Huacachina


Kodak moment


Enjoying a break between buggie-riding

Next we traveled to Pisco where we boarded a boat to visit the Islas Ballestas, or ‘poor man’s Galapagos.’ Along the way, we saw the famous three-pronged Candelabra geoglyph, a giant figure etched into the sandy hills, something like the Nazca Lines. We spent an hour cruising around the islands’ arches and caves, watching sea lions, penguins and thousands of sea birds, such as the Peruvian booby. All too soon, the trip was over, and we were on our way back to Lima.

Sea-lion sunbathing

As we said goodbye to all the Volunteers and their friends, I felt such a sense of gratitude for the dedication and skills these young people exhibited. Peru may have many beautiful and interesting destinations, but it is definitely not for the faint of heart. I found the images of squalor, endless piles of litter and stray dogs quite disturbing. Many Volunteers live without complaining in adobe huts without electricity. They are definitely helping to improve the quality of life for countless people through education, fundraising and better business techniques. I personally will probably not be invited back to Peru because I could not always remember to place the toilet tissue in the trash can, not flush it down the toilet. In fact, I have a feeling the whole country’s sewer system will never be the same!

A Propensity for Partying

As I write this blog post, I am finding it difficult to lift my fingers high enough to type. This little gringa is exhausted! Last month San Miguel’s annual festival came blowing through town like a hurricane and nearly took me out in the process. Seventeen days of no work and all play can be seriously strenuous. This marked my second, and last, San Miguel festival, so I was determined to live it up… I also have more friends than I did last year, so they forced me to stick to that vow.

What resulted was a string of nights where we danced til 5 am, then started dancing again at 6 am, breaking only to drink some soup for breakfast. The events were essentially the same as last year (parades, towers of fireworks and marching bands galore), so I’ll spare you the redundancy. What the festival made me realize, however, is that I haven’t fully explained the party process in all of its sordid details. Trust me, after a year of living with this particular family in this particular town, I’ve got it down to a science.

It really is a fascinating thing to behold, in that every celebratory party, whether it is a birthday party, wedding reception or even a funeral, follows the same precise pattern. I know I would be doing you all an injustice if you find yourself in the middle of a Peruvian fete and you didn’t know which way to pass the glass. So here goes, I offer you the instruction manual that I have pieced together during my many months of partying:

1. Do not show up on time. Trust me, I’ve learned this the hard way, showing up to somebody’s house and having the hostess usher me inside to sit by myself for two hours while she washes her hair. Under close study, I have formulated a general guideline. For weddings, show up 30 minutes after the advertised time, one hour for funerals and baptisms, and two hours for a birthday party. The only two events that start on time here are Mass and Bullfights.

2. Once you arrive, greet every person in the room (with a kiss on the cheek for ladies and a hand-shake between men), then sit down, do not talk and stare off into space without making eye contact with anyone. Usually the chairs are arranged in a circle, so it can prove difficult not to catch a stray eye here or there. It takes practice, so do not expect to master it at your first few parties. This first stage of the party usually only lasts for about half an hour, and you’ll know it has ended when the host and his/her minions begin to pass out napkins and plastic utensils.

3. Next comes Meal #1. Typically it involves a questionable piece of meat, rice, potatoes and a vegetable (vegetable = one piece of lettuce). Just a smaller version of your lunch, so nothing exciting there. What makes it fun is trying to cut the mystery meat with a plastic spoon, while balancing the small Styrofoam plate on your lap. Add to that a Dixie cup of Inka Cola and you can just picture the awkwardness that ensues. An important note: don’t forget to bring a few little plastic bags in your pocket for leftovers. Say it’s for your dog.

Every party requires a small staff to prepare the food

The man above demonstrates an excellent balance-your-plate-on-your-lap technique.

4. Speaking of awkwardness, the next phase is without a doubt my favorite. Awkward Speeches!! Beginning with the host and moving around to many of the attendees, each person spends a good five minutes thanking one another for attending or throwing the soiree. The longer your speech, the better. Bonus points if you specifically name and thank 90% of the people in the room. And don’t think that I don’t share in the fun. I have my standard speech, requiring slight tailoring based on the situation that I have given more than a dozen times.

It doesn’t really matter what you say. At Host-Mom’s birthday, I watched as three people who had just roamed in off the street (we always keep the door open on party nights, no matter how cold it gets) and barely knew her gave heart-felt toasts. I really don’t want to Peru-bash and/or stereotype here, but this is a genuine observation that I have made over the last year. Peruvians are really horrible public speakers. And yet they continue, celebration after celebration, to stand up and say their peace. You’ve gotta respect that.

Host-Mom is a master at the speech...

... and so am I, apparently. Check out the applause I garnered!

5. Once the speeches have concluded, everybody gets to down their thimble-sized cup of wine… the sweeter the wine, the better. This serves as a sign that the drinking portion has begun, and those who do not want to partake should go ahead and leave. I’ve never actually seen anybody leave, though. Breast-feeding mothers, five year-old children, Priests, Nuns, the elderly, the disabled. They all stay for at least a round or two (and often many more) of the drinking circle.

The drinking circle is perhaps the thing that most differentiates a Peruvian party from its North American counterpart. The host brings out one bottle (of beer or canazo) and one glass. He pours an appropriate amount into the glass and passes the bottle on to the person at his immediate left – this is VERY important, the bottle must be passed on before drinking. This is his way of saying “Cheers” to everyone. He then drinks the entire contents of the glass as quickly as possible (others are waiting for their turn, after all), occasionally accompanied by a nod of the head and tip of the glass to his neighbor out of politeness and camaraderie. Then, before passing the glass on to his neighbor, he dumps the remaining contents of the glass (foam and/or leftover drops of the beverage) into a communal bowl strategically set in the middle of the drinking circle… or if no bowl is handy, onto the floor. This act serves two functions. First, on a practical level, it clears out the nasty backwash issue that arises when dozens of people are sharing one cup. Second, it symbolically gives a drink to “Pacha Mama,” which is quechua for Mother Earth.

This process continues around and around the circle for the remainder of the night. Simple enough, but a few factors can complicate it. If a man is standing next to a woman, he will often serve her first. If a man is standing next to five women, he’ll go down the line and serve all of them before taking his own turn. Then it can become confusing when dancing begins, as the perfect circle becomes a little discombobulated. But by that point, most are too tipsy to notice or care.

Here's a visual for you:

Lady with the hat passes bottle to boy on her left (let's just ignore the fact that he is clearly not drinking age, shall we?)

Boy pours himself a little...

After passing the bottle along, he drinks...

After dumping contents on the floor, he passes along the cup. Continue ad nauseum.

6. Although the music comes on as soon as the speeches wrap up, dancing does not begin until the drinking circle has gone around a few times. They may be Latin in more ways than one, and the opposite of timid when it comes to asking personal questions and professing their love for you, but Peruvians can be shy to dance until they have the proper incentive.

Enjoy this time, though, because once the dancing begins, do not expect to get much of a rest for another six hours or so. Everybody seems to agree at the same time that it is time to dance, but women have to wait for a man to ask her to dance. You don’t really see groups of girls dancing together, as in the United States. No, no, it must be a one-guy-to-one-girl affair. Also it is considered rude for a woman to turn down a dance request from any man. It reminds me of a 1950’s High School dance, except for the booze, of course.

7. As aforementioned, dancing ensues and dominates the scene for the remainder of the party. It is only interrupted for a series of small meals, depending on how long the party goes on. Meal #2 is usually (in San Miguel, at least) a cup of pre-sweetened coffee and a small plate piled high with cheese, bread and cake. Note: here is another great opportunity to use those little baggies you brought along. This cake is not to be confused with the “Fill-in-the-event Cake,” which will come out later. When the official cake is served, you usually have another round of speeches and shots of sweet-wine. These speeches, I’m sure you can imagine, are a lot more fun to witness.

They seem to be really enjoying their cake and jello, right?

8. Drinking continues and dancing gets more intense. You often find whoever is controlling the stereo will begin playing the same three or four songs over and over again… the real crowd-pleasers. At this point (most) guests with small children begin to filter out first, followed by older people and people who can’t dance (unless they’re directly related to the host). Then there’s a three hour gap where nobody leaves. This is the real party time. Usually the host will fish out a few old Coke bottles filled with unidentifiable liquor and add them into the drinking circle. Several beer runs inevitably take place. LOTS of posed photographs are requested and taken. As a rule of thumb, the party doesn’t die until: A.) The alcohol (and money to buy more alcohol) runs out, or B.) The sun comes up. I’ve seen plenty of both endings.

Posed-Photo time!

Often you think the party is about to end... then somebody rolls in last minute to save the day.

5:30 a.m. and the party is still rolling on!

So there you have it, in a nutshell. I’ve come to really enjoy the Peruvian party and its quirky nuances. Nothing has taught me more about the culture of this community and how greatly they esteem communal bonds, created through sharing a meal, a dance and a cup.

A few more visuals for you:

No bottle-opener? No problem! I've learned to open a bottle using the lid of another bottle.

(I'm currently at 65% accuracy, but hoping to have it down pat before returning to the States.)

I'm also learning how to open a wine bottle by slamming it against the wall. Seriously.

Sometimes Host-Mom and I break tradition and dance together.

Don't forget that babies like to party too!

From Peru to You... CHEERS!