Fun Fact No. 19: Wine isn’t wine. What I mean is, they have this wine from Tarapoto, a city about an hour away in plane, but it’s SUPER sweet and refrigerated. It’s more like grape juice. One day I ordered regular wine at this pizza joint and everyone nearly threw up. They thought it was disgusting.
A cultural practice that I can’t seem to get accustomed to is hired help. My mama taught me (and my brother) to do it your own damn self. Therefore, I know how to
-clean the bathroom
-wash my clothes
-make my bed
-mop the floor
-vacuum, dust, polish
-make dinner
-wash the dishes
Etc.
Of course, there’s always the good ole South American machista who’ll demand that the woman do all the work (which was always bullshit in my house – dad cooked, mom washed dishes, mom swept, dad mopped, mom mowed the lawn, dad trimmed the trees, etc.).
And then there’s the family with whom I live. It’s a little tricky for me because I’m the guest AND part of the family. So they have a cook and all around skilled helper, Florinda. She’s basically part of the family, so no one ever EVER yells at her or orders her around. She is asked nicely to do things and she does them and then she gets paid (in salary and in her living situation – she lives right next door in a house that has been added on to ours). She has five kids, and the boys (Ever and Nay) work in the lumber storage and the daughter (MariCruz) and younger son (Pelachin) help cook, clean, wash, etc. Pelachin (11 years old) gets shit sometimes but not nearly as much as the other girls, Ana and Silvia. Ana is the goddaughter of Mario Jr. and Kirle. Her parents have been friends with Dina and Mario Sr. for years, and she is basically hired help. The girl does have attitude, granted, but Kirle yells at her around the clock. Silvia, whose relation to the family I have yet to determine, is another hired hand who gets yelled at pretty often but is a lot more agreeable than Ana. I’m not allowed to wash my dishes or serve myself food or anything like that. Which is weird for me – having grown up in a strictly middle class family, we have never had servants or maids or anything.
Here, I insist on washing my own clothes because I think it’s a bit degrading for someone else to wash your underwear (isn’t it?). Oh, and I guess I should also explain that we don’t have a washing machine – it’s wash it by hand or wear stinky clothes. I learned how to wash my clothes by hand in San Antonio de Pintuyacu a while ago. I’m pretty quick and I’m pretty good. I can get out most stains (and trust me, I’m the queen of random ketchup stains).
The thing is, I think one of the reasons I get along so well with this family is because we have a lot in common and we’re from similar economic backgrounds. They are strictly middle class here, and they don’t ask me every five minutes how much X cost because they really don’t care. They understand that a digital camera is expensive but they certainly don’t begrudge me having one. After all, Mario Jr. has a brand spanking new motorcycle and they have HBO (occasionally my salvation from crappy telenovelas).
Point being, I’m not so good at letting someone else clean up after me. It kind of freaks me out. I was talking with Monica about this the other day, and she agrees. But here, everyone has their thing that they do. I have often wondered how the Peruvian economy works because there are SO MANY random vendors of random stuff, and there’ll be like 40 of them in a row selling the same thing at the same price as the person next door. But somehow they make money and survive. I’m not sure how it all goes down, but I guess supply and demand really works here. And there are no chains in
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