Life in Urubamba

(Pic: Candle from the mystery fiesta.)

january 11, 2009 ...
I take it as no coincidence that I´ve been placed in a house with young daughters. Several years ago, on my first of two missions trips to Mexico, I met and bonded with two girls, close in age to Alejandra and Camila. Since then I have always known that an environment most conducive to me learning Spanish would include children. The girls are fascinated with the ipod and speakers I brought. They helped me unpack my bag while listening to Joshua Radin and then the Supremes. They love going through my stuff, which makes for good vocabulary lessons, both ways . When they come across something for which I do not know the Spanish word, I ask ¿como se dice? and they answer. Maquillaje. They then proceeded to apply my maquillaje, and then Camila applied maquillaje to Señor Reginald (whom she carries everywhere with us and has named Lucito).
We went to church today. They are a Catholic family and Alejandra told me she believes in Jesus. The church looks ancient and beautiful. It is high and narrow with a tall, open door to welcome you onto its dusty tile floor. A stone bowl of holy water is at your left when you enter, and then rows of creaky wooden benches sit to each side as you approach the altar; adorned with so many flowers and and a ceramic sculpture, slightly abstract, breathtaking, of outstretched Jesus at the center. Church was packed. Half the congregation was standing. After that we went to a fiesta at Marco´s mother´s house--One thing I have learned is that family here stays here. Both Carla and Marco´s parents live in Urubamba, along with all of their six combined siblings--for his brother´s children. I asked what the party was for...¿cumpleaños? No. I didn´t understand the answer and I still don´t know why so many were gathered together with beer and wine and an amazing meal and new toys for the children (it was like Christmas!). I only know two things.
1) I was given a small candle, encased in wood, with a piece of paper affixed to it, reading ¨Recuerdo de la Misa en Honor al Niño de Praga¨ and then it read the names of the parents and their children.
2) A woman approached Carla and thanked her earnestly for coming. Then they embraced for a long time. When they let go, both had tears in their eyes.
This leads me to a thought that I´ve been trying to push out of my mind: My paperwork from Projects Abroad told me that Marco and Carla have four daughters. The ten-year-old, Maria, is missing from the picture. I have not seen or met her. Perhaps the program made a mistake in the paperwork. Maybe there are only three. I hope so. No one has spoken of Maria, and I´m afraid to ask.
On a lighter note, I had my first random conversation tonight! With a man and woman who run one of the internet cafes. I paid him the one sol (equivalent to 30 cents) I owed him for the hour and he began asking me where I was from, what I´m doing here, etc. I talked to them for probably twenty minutes. Angelo and Laura. They were so nice. He complemented my Spanish, and I really needed that encouragement. I left the internet cafe with a wide smile on my face. It was another small step, though it felt like a big deal, and I walked home proud of myself. It´s been weird these past couple days, having no one to speak English with. I feel like a mute with a migraine; unable to say so much that I wish I could, and in constant concentration, focusing on the Spanish words that seem to be flying around at warp speed. But Angelo and Laura reminded me...one day at a time. I know I´ll get there eventually.