"This is Peru"

That's what Marisol (hostel owner) said to me Saturday night, at about 1 a.m., while out with her entire family celebrating her daughter Fiollera's 25th birthday.

We were at a discoteca of sorts with a live band and a dj, alternating. The live band covered a lot of South American music, but also lots of Estadounidense and British pop and rock (like ACDC, and Hey Jude, which one Peruvian thought said 'Hey, you!"). It was one of the coolest celebrations I've ever attended--the whole family, from cousins 20 years old to aunts and uncles in their sixties, was out on the town, listening to music, eating, drinking, dancing, and celebrating Fiollera. It was so nice and hospitable of them to invite me and the Argentinian doctor across the hall, Diego, to join them.

This is how Fiollera invited me (translated to English):

MY ROOM, 8 p.m., Saturday Night

I'm sitting on my bed, Skyping with Megan Kowalski. I hear a knock at the door. I get up to open the door and see who it is.

Me: Hello?

Fiollera: Hey, how are you?

Me: Good, thanks, and you?

Fiollera: Great! Tomorrow is my birthday--

Me: Happy early birthday!

Fiollera: --and it's a tradition to blaargaburdrapdip. My whole family is going. We are leaving at 10 p.m. and would love if you would come.

Me: Really?!??!?!?!!?

Fiollera: Yeah, definitely. Alright, meet downstairs at ten. Ten, tonight.

Me: Okay, ten tonight. See you then.

I go back to my bed and sit down. I realize I have no idea what I just committed to do.

I was so eager to get out after 6 p.m. that I'd agreed to what could have turned into any of the following scenarios:

a) Exacting the Latorre family's vengeance on a rival family

b) Drug smuggling

c) Seeing Transformers 3*

I assumed those are probably not Peruvian birthday traditions and I decided to go ahead and go. I wasn't sure what to wear, so I dressed like any sensible 23-year-old single woman: like I was going to a library or church.

Also, backing up, I can't emphasize how totally lame I was by responding, "Really???!?!?!!!" when she first invited me. I wanted to express that it was really nice of them to include me, but it just came off as desperate. (Which, actually, is probably also true.)

So what happened is: Fiollera's immediate and extended family, myself, Diego the Argentinian doctor, and Luisa, the sweet Italian girl who has lived here for two and a half years (!!!) went over to Miraflores (the ritzy tourist-ey part of the city) to a discoteca where, as I mentioned, there was a live band and dancing and celebrating. Bars and clubs in the US are not my favorite, as they're often sleazy and just make me feel sad. However, the discoteca, full of people of all ages celebrating and enjoying one another, was really, really cool. I wish I had pictures, but I accidentally left my camera battery in its charger last night. Just take my word for it--it was awesome. Except that I looked like I was going to the library.

I was speaking with Diego, the Argentinian doctor, for a while Saturday night about the cultural differences between here, the US, and Argentina. He said that Argentina is less open and welcoming than Peru--that in Argentina we wouldn't have been invited out to celebrate Fiollera's birthday. I said that in the US, generally, it's the same. We are more individualist. We need our own space and our own time. Of course boundaries are important, but what if we had been raised in an environment that encouraged fellowship as a way of recharging, rather than retreat? If our parents hadn't told us not to talk to strangers, but to invite strangers to celebrate our birthday with us? Didn't Jesus do this when he said to invite the poor and marginalized to our dinner parties?

It's humbling to feel like the outsider in a new place. I told a friend that I feel like the awkward foreign exchange student that's always eager to attend parties, join youth group, etc., because they are hungry for interaction, and maybe even acceptance. They're usually quiet, and when they do talk they're always positive, just happy to be included. I used this comparison in a more light-hearted context, but I think it applies on a deeper level, too. Like those foreign exchange students, or the marginalized of society, it's so hard to be the outsider.

Obviously I love traveling, but it's always a challenge. The first days and weeks in a new place are always uncomfortable, to say the least, getting to know a new place, not having many friends, and not being able to relate very well because of language and cultural barriers. Thankfully I've always made incredible friendships, and there have been gracious others who served their purpose for a time. So far, it's been no different here--between my gracious hosts at the hospedaje to CrediMUJER's director Gloria and her familia who showed me around all day Sunday, to the taxi driver whose wife works in my office, to the guys at Energym, I've felt more and more at ease; I definitely feel welcome. However, there's still a difference between feeling welcome and feeling like you're a part of something. I don't know, either, if there is a way to try to become a part of something; I think that one day, you just are. You live your life day-to-day, you learn the culture, you share experiences, and one day you are a part of everything around you. You're no longer the outsider.

Maybe that's how it works. I'm not sure. I haven't spent enough time away from home to really know. But, from this outsider's perspective, that seems like a plausible scenario.

Tomorrow you have the privilege of seeing what the rest of my weekend was like. Ooooooh! Ahhhhh! Luckily for you, you'll actually literally see what it was like because it'll be heavy on the photos and lighter on the words.

Besos (on the cheek),

Audrey

*That one's for you, Roger.