Tuesday, Tuesday

Today was Maria’s 45th birthday. I assume it’s due to her beautiful Brazilian genes, but you’d never guess that the woman is a day over 30. The three cooks at my comedor scraped together money for a grand feast of meat slabs, the kids from the comedor made decorations and other brought balloons, wine, flowers. The first fresh flowers I’ve seen. Even at the graduation celebration I attended on Sunday only fake flowers were gifted rather than real, fragrant, fresh flowers.

The party was wonderful. It’s so fulfilling to be with these women and dance like there’s not a care in the world. Especially, because I know for some the effort of arranging, paying and putting on the party is a costly labor of love. To share in this is fulfilling. I’ve learned from these strong women to work hard, but when it comes time to celebrate, you throw down. Sometimes I forget that I’m dancing with women from 20-60 years of age, from Switzerland, Bolivia, Brazil, and the US.

It helps that many of us have been taking salsa and merengue lessons together for the past month, so there’s no more reluctance of hip shakin’.

We left at early at nine and walked down the soft sandy streets of the Pampa neighborhood through sounds of crickets, barking dogs and smells reminiscent of burnt molasses and warm trash to catch a bumpy mini van ride over the railroad tracks, past the market- still bustling with people under the yellow street lights- to the plaza center. It has been a good day.