Quinceañera

I went to a quinceañera last Friday, and I'd like to share my experience here to educate those who may not have had the chance to go to one. For those of you who do not know, this is a party held to honor a young girl's entry into society as a woman. Corny and boring at times to be true, but also a fun experience.

This particular quinceañera was in a nearby town called Milagro (miracle). The bus ride there would have been much more comfortable had I not been wearing a suit and tie. Thankfully, it wasn't too hot out so I didn't sweat all over my newly dry-cleaned suit, which is a good start to the evening. I arrived only slightly wrinkled at the party right on time, found my friend, and sat down to enjoy the first quinceañera I had ever been to. The location was a beautiful grand hall overflowing with balloons and decorations, a small waterfall with brown stones was on one side of the room and a bar in a corner.

It started much like a wedding, with all the young girl's friends walking into the room as couples. The Quinceañera herself entered last with her boyfriend and all the room stood. Some announcements were made, some words were shared, then some more, then some more. Same as a wedding, lots of "blah blah ever since I have known this girl blah blah a wonderful person blah blah I like cake ect." You know the routine. It was interesting to hear how they were welcoming her into society, though. I find the idea to be amuzing, like if they don't officially welcome her she's not in. It seems they fear she'll try to go out into this indeterminate society and somehow be shunned. Ah well, it's a cute gesture I guess.

Next, all the young kids took the dance floor, and did an exibition dance. It was a waltz. This was slightly surreal, I mean who does the waltz anymore, especialy kids? And a Spanish waltz no less. I am almost certain this was against their will, as it would certainly be against mine. Choosing between dancing the waltz and having to eat an entire cuy by myself, I'd go for the cuy and consider myself lucky. I wish I could prove that they did indeed waltz but at this point the new batteries on my camera died. Having bought them not ten minutes earlier, I was dismayed. The brand of the batteries was Bic. To my knowledge, Bic makes pens, not batteries. I should have known.

A Ricky Martin number came next, the kids were obviously more at ease dancing that one and my ears hurt only slightly less. Some last announcements were made and the floor was opened up to all to dance. Which was great, except we hadn't eaten yet. I was hungry enough to eat the aforementioned cuy. Dinner was not served until one in the morning, after which the party continued until 3, which is just plain nuts in my book. Also just as nuts was the garter tradition. Every single one of the young men had to put a garter on his partner, as high as she would let him. Some of these kids were 13 years old. I mentioned to my friend that my future daugter(s) will not be having a quinceañera until she is twenty. At that time she will wear shorts under her dress, and dinner will be served in the P.M. rather than the absurd hours of the A.M. The veinteañera will soon be the next big thing in America- you saw it here first!

The Quinceañera herself.....awww....

"I like cake."

Me and my friend, she's the sweetest girl you'll ever meet.

Zula Fun: Part II

Final exams are this week. For the first time in my life, I am actually studying and doing homework. It is a new experience for me, and one that eats up my time. To relax between study sessions I play Command and Conquer III. The only problem with this is that is I end up not playing between study sessions, but instead of study sessions. I am something of an computer-game addict and currently stuck on step two of my program: I believe that a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity, I just don't want him to. Still, I must have faith, if I made it out of World of Warcraft alive where so many others have fallen, CC3 should be easy, right?

WARNING: A FEW OF THE PICTURES FURTHER ON ILLUSTRATE HOW ZULIANS MAKE A TYPICAL DISH OF GUINEA PIG. THE EXTREMELY LACTOSE INTOLERANT MAY ALSO WANT TO NOTE THAT ANOTHER PICTURE SHOWS THE PRODUCTION OF CHEESE. YOU MAY SKIP READING THIS POST IF YOU WISH.
Here are just a few pictures I took of a random waterfall in Zula. I was feeling very sick at the time due to the food/altitude/cold but saw this waterfall off in the distance and decided to go take some pictures. The locals watched carefully, no doubt thinking I was drunk due to my staggering walk up the hill.

A typical house made of straw in the region. It's possible that one of the seven or so hot-air balloons we sent up landed on one of these and set it ablaze. I sure hope not.

The picture that follows is a "before" picture. The adorable little animal I am holding is called a "cuy", in English I believe that it would be called a guinea pig. Why is this a "before" picture? Because in a few short hours this cute and fluffy animal will become the main course for dinner. That's right- Ecuadorians eat pets. At least they stop short of eating dogs and cats.

Aaaannnnndd- the "after" picture. Not so cute and adorable without their fur, are they?

One more shot from a different angle for good measure.

Moving on to a subject a bit more tame, this is how they make cheese in Zula. It's actually really tasty and has never made me sick unlike the meat. Of course, they leave the meat out day and night relying on the cold to keep it from spoiling. I don't believe that works. Not that I could tell by taste if the food was spoiled or not, but when I visited the kitchen at night I saw a slug the size of my cell phone munching on some buckets of un-prepared food. Yum!

A random old lady hacking away at a sheep head with a knife. I don't know why she was doing this. The rest of the sheep lay in a bloody heap inside a garbage bag with the legs sticking out.

Another picture of a locals house. As you can see by this picture and the one from above, the style of dress here is bright colors, cowboy hats, and ponchos.

I wanted to take more picture of the people but kinda felt bad. I mean, asking their permission would go something like this- "Hi there, I'm a Gringo and I'd like to take your picture because us fat touristy Gringos find your living conditions hilarious. Later, I'll peruse these pictures while sipping fine wine, warmed by a fire of extra hundred-dollar bills I have lying around." Actually, they all speak Quechua so they probably wouldn't understand me anyways. I did try to take pictures of some adorable little kids in their ponchos and hats, but they were so shy they ran away. The people in the Sierra live simple lives and work hard until the day they die, they're a people of the earth, a good people.