A Wedding

The weather has, at long last, broken. The overcast days of winter have given way to the sunny skies of spring – only a month late. Everyone has been commenting about the strange weather – the rainy season has also started early in the mountains. A mild El Nino is happening and will be full blown, a la 1998, next year.

A Sunday bike ride took me to Jimmy Bell’s house – more like estate – out in the fields. He was the wonderful old British gentleman and Ham radio operator I met last spring, who died in August. His wife, Isabella seems to have moved back to their place in Lima. I left her a note declining her very kind offer to take all of Jimmy’s radio gear. On the way home, I stopped by a plastic tent, where the ladies were packing green beans for export and talked them into selling me a kilo. Then, hit a road-side stand with the FIRST mangoes of the season and some sweet corn.  That , my friends, is lunch. I am so very grateful to live in this gorgeous valley of fresh produce. Pepinos are coming soon – kind of a cross between a melon and a cucumber. I never quite know what I will find, but it is always local, fresh and delicious.

Another superb dinner at ex-pat Helen’s house – meatloaf, smashed ‘taters, carrots and cheesecake. I brought some of those long, skinny balloons and made animals, hats with the kids. It’s a bit like a trip back to the US for a few hours.

I am delighted to report that, thanks to generous contributions by so many of you, the Children’s Playgrounds project has been fully funded. Thanks to all who donated. Now, on to buying materials and construction. Meanwhile, the Parents Assn has already started clearing the sites. I am grateful to have their support and the support of the Muni. I’m really excited that the little kids will now have a nice place to play. Hopefully, the town will see the benefit and popularity and replicate the plan in other parts of town.

My first Peruvian wedding was….well….interesting. It was the family down the street, where we planted the pilot Poinciana tree that got smashed in the recent street construction. I got invited the day of, which seemed a little odd. The family was out decorating the front of the house and street, including balloons and pennants strung across the street. Even if you didn’t get the directions or address quite right – anybody could find this house. The family owns an enclosed, empty yard next to the house, which is rented out for parties of various sorts. This too was festively decorated with pennants and balloons and flowers and a huge shrine/alter, featuring an enormous painting of a very white Jesus.

The wedding was at 3, but by 1pm there were drinking circles formed in the street and in the “party hall”. Fernando, never one to miss a party or other drinking opportunity dragged me out to partake. I’m really not all that fond of alcohol, and even less so of drinking circles – a Peruvian institution. They are, as the name implies, a circle of (almost always) men, who pass a beer bottle and a glass from hand to hand. Disease vector considerations aside, the form also means that no one sips on a drink. When your turn comes you are expected to pour, chug, shake the glass out and pass bottle and glass quickly, lest the other participants become dehydrated due to your sloth. I’ve started bring my own glass, which is generally considered rude, but I seem to get away with it by coughing a few times and saying I have a cold. Also, I’m a Gringo. For all of the above reasons, I try to avoid these affairs. I’ve developed to art of “short-pour”, only splashing some beer- mostly foam – into my glass and shooting it back. Although in this case, Fernando foiled my technique by rudely grabbing the end of the bottle and tipping in some extra beer.

Most of the talk in the circle was about the bride’s possibly pregnant status. She was 16 – some said 15, in any case a little young most said. They also postulated that she looked a little fat, which applies to 95% of the “muffin-top” teens here. Also, the wedding was not in church, which seemed reasonable since the church is in ruins, with a tarp for a roof – a new church is under construction - and the family owns a nice event hall.

The ceremony ran late, as most events here seem to do. They even call it – somewhat proudly – La Hora Peruana. I’m told that during the war with Ecuador, the Peruvians actually won a battle because they showed up late and surprised their punctual opponents. By the time the ceremony got underway, most of the guests were already quite fortified. There were a couple of things that seemed odd, though I’m always willing to bend to and respect the cultural differences. The first of was that the bride walked behind her father instead of at his side, which I was later told is an acceptable option, especially given the very narrow aisle that was available. More telling were the bride and groom’s faces – they both had expressions that were somewhere between Bambi-caught-in-the headlights and sheer-utter-terror. In fact, the only two people in the wedding party who were smiling were the best-man and maid-of-honor. This only added to the pregnancy postulations from earlier.

The ceremony was mercifully brief and guests returned to the drinking tables quickly. A very nice “chicharon” (deep fried pork) dinner was served and wine and Pisco (a distinctly Peruvian beverage, distilled from fermented grapes – un-aged brandy) was added to the mix. The dancing part was somewhat unnerving, as every time I started to dance, everyone around me stopped to watch. Being the only Gringo in town – does have its down sides.