Cumpleaños feliz, cupleaños a ti.......

February 23, 2011


It’s exactly a week after my birthday. I’ve been 22 for 10 days now. The popular question when one becomes another year older is, “Do you feel older or wiser?” I lay in bed the morning of my birthday, which conveniently happened to be a Sunday, and waited to see if I felt....different. As few minutes passed and as with every birthday I’ve had, nothing seemed odd or special or...different. In fact this day felt more ordinary than any of my previous birthdays.

I had promised to take the kids to Campo Verde for a collective Church field day the Campo Verde church had organized. Several other Churches from the area were getting together to play volleyball and fútbol. As we sat in the sun baking and watching the games, I contemplated being a year older. Verbalizing my age to several curious kids made me feel old.

Now, I know that sounds ridiculous. Those of you who have surpassed the age of 22 are probably rolling your eyes at this moment. I still think that 22 is young, but I think the reason I’m starting to feel¨old¨is because all my friends have graduated, or will soon be graduating. Most of my closest friends are currently engaged and will soon be returning home to their spouses after work. Many of my friends have or will be starting real jobs. Real life, whatever that is, is just around the corner. My childhood is fading into the distance (yeah, yeah, a bit melodramatic).

Well, on to happier things. The evening of my birthday all of Km 38 gathered at our house for a delicious meal prepared by the girls; they wouldn’t let me into the kitchen. I think I’m becoming more and more like my mother; I couldn’t just sit and wait as they were cooking. I wanted to be in there stirring or chopping something. I was shooed out several times.

The party kicked off with Hanna and Sharon(not sure if that’s spelled correctly), Elias’s niece, came in with not one but two large, homemade, caramel glazed, sprinkle topped, delicious cake. My favorite part about one of the cakes was my name neatly spelled with gumdrops. It read: Llanesa (the double “l” makes the “ja” sound). Incorrectly spelled in more ways than one, but it was so cute, I absolutely loved it.

All of us piled our plates full of delicious birthday goodness. It has become a tradition amongst the SM’s to have tostadas on our birthday. We make homemade tortillas, pico de gallo, “bomb sauce” (made by Lauren), yummy beans, rice, and some sort of fajita style stuff. Muy rico! However, before I could take a bite of my food it happened. I felt it cold, wet, and slimy running down my head and onto my shoulders. I had been egged. It’s a tradition here in Peru, as well as many other Latin countries, to smash an egg atop the head of the birthday boy/girl. Usually it’s accompanied with flour; thankfully I only got the egg. Everyone let out their laughs and approving shouts. I quickly ran to the sink where I thoroughly washed my hair.

The egg washed out and a pair of clean clothes on I consumed the delicious plate of birthday goodness. With that first bite all was right in the world. We ate, talked, and then it was time for the cutting of the cake. I love the cake here, at least the type that was made for my birthday. It’s buttery and moist and not too sweet, perfect. I sat down to enjoy the moist scrumptiousness when I felt it again—this time in two consecutive rounds. I had been egged…again. The viscous innards glooped off my head and onto my clean black skirt. I scooped up my skirt and ran outside before any of the nasty stuff got on the floor. This time Hanna, the perpetrator, came with her peppermint shampoo to help me wash out the stuff. Oh the joys. They tell me egg is good for your hair. I can’t tell you, I didn’t leave it in long enough to make a difference.

It was an enjoyable birthday. I felt very loved, eggs and all. I can always retell the story of spending my 22nd birthday in Peru amongst good friends, good food, and raw eggs.