El Cumpleaños de la Abuela de Diego

So, I experienced my first Cusquenian birthday. After a week of waiting in Cusco for Monday to finally come around, I sat outside Diego's work on Monday afternoon for ages waiting for him to finish. Once he got out we frantically rushed around buying some shoes (present for grandma from me) and the worlds biggest bag of bread. We even splurged on a shared taxi ride instead of taking the public bus because it's meant to take 1 hour rather than 1.5. I actually think we spent that extra half hour waiting in the taxi for the other 2 seats to be filled, however, we eventually go to Urubamba, hopped onto the the next combi bus to Pilcopata and then started our walk to grandma's house, stopping at various relatives houses along the way, distributing the bread and, of course, drinking the obligatory glass of chicha.

Eventually we got to a door, in an adobe fence, which opened up to a big yard and two rooms filled with people. One was the kitchen, the other the drinking and dancing room. I was immediately swamped with children kissing me hello on the cheek. Some I knew from my last visit, some from Cusco and others not at all. Greeting and kissing the grown-up relatives took another 10-15 minutes. We were sat down on benches around the perimeter of the dancing room, me immediately next to the abuela, who promptly pulled apart the meat she was eating and handed me some meat and bones. My first taste of cuy. I'm not so good with eating skin and meat off bones normally, and the little guinea pigs don't have much in the way of juicy steak meaty goodness, but it was ok. I can't say I loved it, but when my own HUGE plate of food arrived I finished most of my portion of cuy too. I was coping ok with the whole 'poor little animal' concept until Diego very kindly put the head of the cuy in the centre of my plate.

As well as the worlds biggest plate of food, I also had the biggest glass (literally the biggest glass, because I was a guest) of frutillada (chicha, but with strawberries, so sweeter). Having learnt from my first experience of drinking chicha, I sipped it slowly. I still had those doubts in the back of my mind about the toilet situation.

What I tried to save myself from with chicha they made up for with beer. The way it seems to work is that numerous crates of beer are bought by someone in the house but if anyone wants beer, they buy it from that person. So there is someone that has a bottle or more of beer (I'm sure the bottles must be over a litre each) and also has a small glass that they fill up, drink themselves, or 'invite' other people to drink by handing them the glass. If you're invited, you can't refuse. Even if you don't drink beer, like me. So I drank, and drank some more, and eventually I needed the bathroom. Surprisingly I was pointed towards an actual building.

An aunt gave me her mobile with flashlight and I made my way to the corner of the yard. I laughed when I got there. It was just a hole in the ground type toilet but the funny thing was that although there was a door, all the adobe had come away from the frame so while squatting I could see all the people drinking and dancing away. I was glad it was dark.


After the eating came the dancing. As more and more people got drunk, the dance floor got fuller and fuller. Try as I might, by the end of the night I still couldn't quite get the dance steps right. It's some combination of stomping and hopping, getting faster or slower depending on whether there is singing, and occasionally stopping completely.

I will definitely not miss the music. They had the same tape that the bus driver to and from Pilcopata had. The same music that every driver seems to have and in fact, right now as I'm typing I can hear it playing outside on the street. Like the bus driver, they seem to find nothing wrong with hearing the same song over and over and over. Oooohh, my ears.

So I hopped and stomped my way around the room, and grandma hopped and stomped and the children hopped and stomped and everyone had a good time. Eventually, at about midnight, 5 of us made our way back to an aunt's house where we were going to sleep.

When I mentioned I needed the bathroom again she took me back down the ladder and came with me because she needed to go too. She asked me something using words I'd never heard before but eventually I got the message 'oh yes, right... yes, I only need to wee'. 'Ok', she says, and squats right there 'here is fine then.' So, I had my first communal weeing experience too. Squatting beside the house, beside Diego's aunt, with a view of the river.

The next day everyone seemed to be sleeping late but we eventually got up. Got up and got to work (the boys worked, I watched). First we herded a bull across the river to feed in another paddock, then Diego had to go help his grandpa plow the fields. We brought the men their lunch and chicha and while they ate, Diego and the bulls did their plowing. I had a go, at the insistance of Diego, but my plow line was ridiculously wonky, so the photo is all a lie.