Birthday Cake Galore!!

         My birthday rang in the bell of my one-year mark in Peru. This didn’t hit me until I was looking at my clothes and wondering why they were worn out, and it occurred to me that I have been rotating through three pairs of leggings and two pairs of jeans for a whole year.  Somehow the realization that my clothing was a full year old and might not last another year was the thing that really hit me hard. Anyways last year my birthday landed on the first day we moved into our host families in Lima. In the midst of a big transition my birthday seemed insignificant and flew by with very few bells and whistles.  One year later and I am actually settled in one place, with no plans to move for another year. Strangely this is the longest since high school that I have lived in the same place for a year or more. While living in another country with another language may not lead to the most settling experiences I am not packing up my bags to face another transition, transform strangers into friends, and learn a new skill set at a new job. No I am faced with another year of language struggles, getting projects off the ground, and eating more rice, and well da garnet I’m looking forward to it!

            Back to what’s really important; my birthday occurring in a place that I have settled into. Having a September birthday it usually falls right in the midst of transitions: new classmates, new class schedule, new jobs etc.  But this year was different; I was able to look forward to the month of September with friends I had already created, and think about plans for a birthday party seeing as I already knew where I was going to be and with whom.  I’m not a very aggressive birthday planner but it was a fun conversation topic that usually ended with an agreed plan to get Corazon Serano (a famous Peruvian band) to come to our town as well as many many guinnea pigs to eat and of course a large pot of arroz con leche.  People would excitedly ask when my birthday lands, and if I was going to be here to celebrate and I could affirmatively say yes, with the confidence of knowing what I would be doing for at least the next year.

            Well the actual day arrived and I soon realized all the plans I had made were more just for sake of conversation, and none were going to be a reality if I didn’t make them happen. I rose up with the sun and quickly realized that the custom here is to give hugs on birthdays. I received the biggest and first hug ever from my host mom, and then from my host cousin and host dad, to which I started to pick up on the pattern. Over breakfast it was decided that we would kill one of our chickens for the event, and my host mom set out to invite people to dinner. I asked if I could invite the nurses at the health post and with more than the extended family invited to dinner it was becoming an official party.

            Now that we were going to have a party we were definitely going to need a cake. I offered up to make my own cake knowing that this was the best guarantee of getting a good cake, and I was the only one with an oven. My host cousin and I discussed what flavor would be best, and landed on the simplicity of vanilla. We headed off to the store to buy the needed ingredients for both the cake and the dinner.

            After lunch the motivation to make my cake wasn’t coming to me, and my baking procrastination led to me having to go teach a class, instead of make the cake. I told my host mom that I would make the cake when I got back and it would be ready just in time to eat it after dinner.  With that I headed off to the school to announce my birthday as well as teach a class on global warming. Well I didn’t realize announcing my birthday would bring me in contact with every disease in the town as every student lined up to give me a hug. Overwhelmed with attention I laughed through the repetitiveness of giving 80 children hugs. The director of the school then approached me asking about my singing and music abilities; skeptical about what he was getting at, I responded that my skills were all right. He took that to be sufficient enough to crown me as a judge for the singing competition they were going to have that evening. Honored to be considered I made an on spot decision to cancel my environmental club meeting so I could be a judge! I later felt quite guilty about this decision, as it seemed my environmental club should be more important, but most of my students wanted to watch the competition anyways so it worked out.

            As judge I was given my own table, strategically separated from the other judges, an official pen, and an announced entrance. I walked in front of the whole elementary school waving my hand with pride that I was one of the chosen judges. There were five entrees for singers, three of which used the same backup-dancing girls. The girls had to change back and forth from traditional garb, to modern dancing clothes depending on the lead singers request. The singers were judged on their voice, presentation, rhythm and outfits. I’m not going to lie it was a pretty stressful position to be in.  I had to score them purely on what I saw from an unbiased view, when I knew all the students, and the human inclination is to be a bit biased. I argued in my head over one or two points, and felt unsettled after turning in each sheet. A designated student would come around after every act and collect the judging cards, and my heart would skip a beat, panicked that I had judged unfairly. Then I would look to the kid’s mother, who had come home from the farm early to watch her son, and I wished I had given him more points, to make her proud. I clearly did not know what I was getting myself into, I was too eager for the fame of being a judge. Half way through they brought around cocktails and crackers to the judges. These cocktails are their favorite thing to serve at school events, it is a mixture of milk or yogurt, bananas, sugar, and very strong homemade alcohol. They serve them in small plastics cups and it is assumed to help warm you up. Adults are served first but the students down to the babies are all served this warming drink. 

Well with the help of the burn–your-throat cocktail I made it through the judging, and while the person I didn’t give the most points to won, it all seemed fair. However I was not prepared for the accusations that followed. Why hadn’t Franco, or Ronaldo made it into the top three, or why didn’t I give Caleb more points or did I really think Mishel disserved to win?  Oh how I was under the heat, and I realized I needed to get out of the school quick! I shook hands with the director and made for the door, sliding the pen into my pocket as a birthday present.  Despite the questioning of my judging ability I was still jittery off of the confidence as I headed home to share my experience, and see how the cooking for my dinner party was coming along.

            The kitchen was lively as potatoes fried, and meat boiled. The news of my judging had already made it back to my family and I shared pictures of the singing contest, and received more hugs for my birthday. It is amazing how great a hug feels in a community that doesn’t hug as an expression of greeting.  Then my host mom proudly announced that she and her sister had taken it upon themselves to make the cake. To which they continued to add that the first cake they tried did not rise, so they made a second cake!  Well how bad can one really ruin sugar, eggs, and flour, it was sure to resemble some sort of a cake. We set up the larger table in my host parent’s room, which is where we hold all official parties. The nurses came with their families each presenting me with a plastic bag wrapped lotion or body wash. I think they might be hinting at they fact that I don’t shower enough or use lotion that smells good, as maybe I ought to as a proper lady. Dinner started out a bit slow, some talk of potatoes and I observed the conversation from the outside. The main force of energy that always keeps the energy lively, the secretary of town, was tied up in the kitchen and I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed by the lack enthusiasm at the table. Soup was served and it was a bit of a relief to have something to focus on other than staring at the wall.   

            However by the time the fried chicken and French fries were served things started to liven up. Conversations turned to birthday costumes in America, and that I should definitely marry someone in Peru to stay forever. After plates were cleared we passed around a bottle of beer in celebration and some Amazona soda to salute my birthday for the years to come. The lopsided cakes were placed on the table with a large candle in the middle, we waited for everyone to gather to sing happy birthday. Turns out the English Happy Birthday song is better known in my site than the Spansh version, but it also turns out that my family and friends know very little of either. After the awkward performance in which most forgot the words, they promised to practice the song for next year. We clapped out the song and I noticed some whispering going on at the other side of the table. I had a feeling they were scheming something but before I accuse or figure it out, WHAMP I had egg running down my hair onto my shirt. The nurse, proud of her sneakiness, jumped with joy as I screamed but caught the yolk before it broke. I took up the yolk in my hand, as my instincts told me I should throw it at the nurse for revenge, but I stopped myself thinking that was probably not the customs here. Before I had time to dispose of it the nurse picked it back out of my hand smashed it into my hair and my host mom added a bag of flour on top.  They were turning me into a third cake it seemed! It was then explained to me that this would ensure that I would have a year of good luck, and that egg was in fact good for my hair.

            After many pictures, good laughs, and recounting the events that had occurred in the egg incident, I headed for the kitchen to clean myself up. Turns out they had already prepared hot water for me in a wash basin and my host uncle offered to pour the water for me. It was the first warm shower I have had in site and boy did it feel good. My host mom scrubbed some hand soap into my hair and slowly the egg and flour came out, and the nurse proclaimed that she really broke the egg onto my head to force me to shower as the other day I proclaimed that I hadn’t showered in 8 days.  I wrapped a blue towel around my hair, and with that went back in to cut the cake and cheers again to another great and lucky year I have to look forward to. It was an incredible feeling to be part of a family, community, and culture on my birthday.