Yes, it’s true. I’ve seen way too many fanny packs in the past few months than my poor eyes and fashion sense would care to handle. I demand the CLG throw me a fanny-pack themed welcome back party. Has anyone actually thought about the name fanny-pack? I mean, logically, shouldn’t they be worn on the rear end rather than the front?
I write to you from the magic alcove of my room, where I sit scrunched in between three walls, in the birthing position (gingerbread man? delivery room?), my feet pushed up against one wall and my laptop awkwardly in between my legs, as if I were giving birth to it. Why am I in this position, you may ask? And more importantly, why did I just describe it in such unnecessary details? As for the second question, I cannot answer. Maybe because I have acquired a taste for coffee, and I drank some this morning, and caffeine tends to have unusual effects on my brain activity. As for the first question, I am here because the internet connection of our house doesn’t reach my room, and furthermore, in order to even turn it on I have to walk up a set of stairs, which I am too lazy to do. As a result, I often wait for the neighbors to turn on their connection, and the fastest connection I can find is when I’m giving birth to a computer in a corner. If you’re wondering what music I’m listening to, that would be the beautiful sounds of Lima – rushing cars, piercing sirens, and barking/howling dogs. They bark in Spanish, of course. Instead of saying Ruff Ruff or Woof Woof, they say Wa Wa Wa.
If you’re wondering where I’ve been for the past two weeks, the answer is Lima. And more specifically, I am generally found in the three-walled alcove. However, if you’re wondering what I’ve been up to, well that’s an entirely different story! Mostly birthing my computer. But I’ve managed to squeeze a few other things in (no pun intended) (ouch, that pun gave me a gross image. I hope it didn’t do the same to anyone else) (I fear that I might need to put a PG-13 rating on this blog).
Well, to pick up where I left off last entry, my birthday was lovely. I completed my twenty years with a smattering of family and friends, and a delicious chocolate cake (I didn’t get smattered in it though). My favorite part was when they all sang to me, because in Peru the tradition is to sing the song in English, even though it sounds more like “Heppy bethay” than happy birthday. Afterwards, I went out dancing, but accidentally didn’t comply with my promise to stay out until 7 in the morning, and only made it until 3:30. Maybe someday. Over the rainbow. Oh wait, that’s someWHERE over the rainbow.
Last week when I asked a woman to cut my hair for me because the ends were super dry, she insisted that I needed not a trim but a “capillary treatment.” She mixed some eggs, oil, flour, baking soda, sugar, and chocolate chips, and then stuck my head in a 350 degree oven and cooked it for about 10 minutes. When I re-emerged, my hair was as fresh as new and nice and soft. In addition, it smelled really good. Actually, I think I may be mixing that up with the batch of cookies I mixed up for my Peruvian family. Much to my lament, my mother decided they weren’t cooked enough and stuck them back in the oven (without my permission, I might add) until they were crispy as bacon, because she thought they were tastier that way (and they even tasted like bacon! She must have a magic touch). Good thing I had eaten a few gooey ones while they were still the way I liked them. Indeed I did receive a treatment on my hair: 2 eggs, a splotch of vinegar, some drops of oil, conditioner, two plastic bags, and one half hour of waiting and awkward conversation. I felt like one of those old ladies drying her hair underneath those big metal colanders, except with a warm eggy mixture dribbling down my face, neck, and chest. The things people do for beauty. Needless to say, I felt as if I were in a very natural state, and I will be receiving the treatment daily for the next two months.
And if you’re wondering how they celebrate Halloween here, I shall tell you. And then given the fact that I stayed at home and baked cookies with my friend, you can decide where I belong. According to my mother, the poor kids go out trick-or-treating in badly-made costumes, the middle class goes to Halloween parties, and the old people celebrate the traditional holiday, El Día de la Canción Criolla. I wasn’t previously aware that these were the only three groups of Peruvian society, but I’m glad that now I know! Ah, the things I’ve learned in Peru!
