Anyways, back to the quinceañera...which is what the event is called down here. This time it was Olga's niece who was celebrating the event. I am positive that Olga had been talking about it since the second week I got here and to miss it was not an option. Not that I wanted to! The idea of experiencing something so culturally beautiful and unique swept excitement through me for months before the big event. Preparations began Thursday in our house, as Olga was in charge of most of the food for the 100 guests invited to the fiesta. Giant grocery bags of food, boxes of clean white plates and bags of rented and borrowed silverware began to cover our front room. A steady stream of people constantly flowed through the house, dropping things off, picking things up, drinking coffee, eating lunch, shooting off spanish loudly and rapidly - it was enough to make a gringa's head spin! (Which mine did, for most of the time in the days to follow)
Friday begin with an exam in Spanish class for me. But, as I was entirely too brain dead to attend my last two classes, I skipped (literally...get it?) home after my exam to help Olga with more preparations. Shocked at my oh-so sudden appearance, I begged my host brother, Josue, to "do as I say, not as a I do!" when he threatened to follow my lead and skip his classes as well. Knowing full well he was joking, he still did not let me live it down for the rest of the day calling me a "bad example". (Side note: Public schools in Costa Rica usually have a morning/afternoon schedule. So Josue goes to school all day Monday, Tuesdays and Thursdays in the mornings only and Wednesdays and Fridays in the afternoons only. I promise he went to his classes later in the afternoon :) )
Olga's brother stopped by and picked up Olga and I for a quick trip to Price Mart, the equivalent to Sam's Club. While Olga and her brother tried to figure out what they needed to buy, I helped by pushing the cart behind them, helping myself to the free samples and attempting to keep up in their rapid-fire conversation. But most of the time just strolled along, enjoying the familiar feeling of grocery aisles and North American brand products. After we returned home and lunched, a friend of Olga's came over to help. I excused myself to my room and before I knew it had fallen into a deep slumber. Much needed. Later, awakened by the sound of Olga calling my name, I sleepily sauntered down the stairs. I was greeted by two new helpers in the kitchen and a seat with my name on it. My task, you ask? Cutting out two hundred turquoise, white and black icing butterflies with a cookie cutter. I also somehow became in charge of counting how many of each color we had. You can imagine the confusion bouncing around in my brain as I switched from counting in english, to saying the total in spanish, then back to english in my mind for adding and again to spanish for the final count. I can't wait for the day my mind just thinks in Spanish.
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| My flawless skills at making sure my jeans got as much flour on them as possible. |
After the icing cutting and counting, we had some cafecito - just what the brain needed! Afternoon coffee is slowly becoming one of my favorite parts of living in Latin America. Josue and my host sister, July (pronounced Julie), came home from school and work, respectively. One of Olga's nephews also came over to join the fun. We were a full house this night! Our next job was to roll out small little "bodies" for the butterflies, of different colors to go between their wings. It was intriguing the way Olga was so detailed in the intricacies of something that would just disintegrate into our stomachs the following day. It is one of her passions though, so who can blame her for wanting it to look marvelous?
We finished all the cake decorations at 10 pm that night. Somewhere along the way, there was a video made of Olga's cake decorating skills, some Chinese food for dinner, a discussion of how to pronounce the word "cupcake"correctly in English and Spanish, dancing, singing and plenty of laughter to go around. Needless to say, I was beat.
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| Promise we didn't actually eat these - was only for the pic! |
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| Do you see what I mean with details? |
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| Pleased with the finished product. |
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| In the making! |
The next morning was an early one. Somehow, my body woke me up at 7:30 am (I guess not super surprising considering the 5am sunrise every. single. day.) Upon opening the door to my room, I was greeted with plenty of clamoring noises and delicious smells from downstairs. After sitting down to some coffee and bread with Olga and Josue, the festivities began! I was put to work with Josue peeling and cutting potatoes. We couldn't help but giggle at how completely terrible and slow we both were at the task. Suddenly, our saving grace, a friend of Olgas, came over to help and put us to shame with how flawlessly her knife cut through the skin of the potato, as if it was butter. With her help...okay, let's be honest, with her doing probably over half the work with ease, we finished sooner rather then later.
I was please out how shocked she was that I was up so early and downstairs helping out. She asked Olga why she was "making the renter work". Olga responded with a smug "she's not just a renter, she's part of the family" that made my heart soar. I belonged. What a sweet moment that was for me that even in my poor potato cutting skills and even poorer spanish skills, she still claimed me.
It wasn't long before Olga's sister, the mom of the birthday girl, called in frantic because she and her husband were the only ones at the saloon setting up for the party. So July and I and a mountain of cupcakes, mashed potatoes, baked chicken, plates, silverware and serving utentsils piled into the car of Olga's oldest daughter, Kata and we sped off to the saloon. Here we did our fair share of putting out table clothes, straightening tables and chairs, hanging balloons and hanging more balloons, cleaning glasses, sweeping, ect ect. Usual pre-party preparations. Before we realized it, it was 2:30 and the party started at 3! We rushed home in a whirlwind to get ready for the night's occasion. Thankfully, in usually Latin American style where time is but a number and what's important is the people you are with and the event you are attending, when July and I arrived around 4:45, we hadn't missed a beat. In fact, we arrived just in time to see the presentation of the birthday girl!
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| The dance floor and balloons and lighting. |
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| Cupcakes galore! This isn't half of them and we never even cut into the 3 cakes! |
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| Balloons on balloons on confetti on balloons. |
In what seemed to be a cross between a debutante and a wedding, each of her friends that was invited were presented one by one, by name, while the rest of us stood around them and ooed and awed at their dresses and suits and smiles. Then the birthday girl herself was presented, both her parents at her side. Once everyone got into position and plenty of pictures had been snapped, small boxes were handed out to each of the girls and boys standing in the front. And before I realized what was happening, the boxes were opened and about 30 butterflies, alive and well, were released into the building - I am guessing to signify the blossoming of this new woman into society. What a sight! We all broke down into a fit of giggles as some of the butterflies had other plans - plans to stay tightly tucked away into their boxes. They were not pleased when they were forced out of their tiny little box of comfort into the real world. But really, who can blame them?
After the butterfly release, the father and daughter had their first dance, followed by each of her accompanying friends dancing with whoever they were partnered with in the presentation. Then a toast was given by the grandmother, cheers were saluted all around, the appetizers were brought out and the DJ began pumping Latino tunes like it was his job. Well, it was his job but that's besides the point. Unlike at a typical wedding in the States (where the first 15 to 20 songs everyone stands around awkwardly, whispering and questioning who will be the first to break the dance floor ice), Latinos immediately jumped up and onto the dance floor within minutes of the first song being played. It wasn't long before I was dragged onto the dance floor as well to learn some sweet Latino dance moves. Let's just say, unlike Shakira, these hips do lie and they tried to lie their way through the night on the dance floor as I awkwardly attempted to fit in, in the sea of Latinos, seamlessly moving from one dance move to another. Let's just say, I've never felt more gringa then when I am on a dance floor with other Latinos who dance with such grace and intricacy. I am now more determined then ever to learn how to dance the ever popular salsa, merengue, ect, ect.
In the next hours, dinner was served, a belly dancer danced, balloons were popped, confetti was thrown, and fun was had all around. I can't tell if I am getting better at understanding Spanish or if I am getting better at knowing when in the conversation to smile or laugh or nod my head in agreement. Maybe it's a collaboration of both, but that's if I'm grading myself on a curve. So after we cleaned up the confetti and popped balloons, gathered the butterflies still on the ceiling, packed up the kitchen, stacked the chairs and folded the tables - all in high heels, I might add - I was drained. Tired and worn out and brain-dead and feet hurting...but happy and full and smiling and grace filled. It felt almost as if the whole weekend had been this giant grace filled ball of fun. If that makes any sense at all.
And so, as I collapsed into my bed at the end of the night, I smiled to myself, whispering a quiet "thank you" to Jesus for all that He had and has given. Then I slept for 12 hours straight and it was glorious.
