Quinceañera!

A few weeks ago, Liz and I were fortunate enough to experience a real Costa Rican Quinceañera. It was for Amanda (the niece of our neighbors Luz and Guillermo). We agreed to help them prepare (Luz was doing the cooking) so we hiked over to their farm early in the morning. We were prepared to work, and we brought changes of clothes, jewelry, and makeup so we could get ready after the preparations were finished.

We chopped vegetables for hours. Hundreds of onions, carrots, peppers, and garlic cloves passed through my fumbling fingers as I tried to match the delicacy and precision of Luz. These vegetables were thrown into a giant pot of carne en salsa – this metal pot was the size of a kiddie pool, and it was sitting atop a roaring fire for hours. These people know how to cook.

We were able to take coffee in the afternoon before we got ready. Liz and I showered quickly – what was really magical was to see all of the girls in the house getting ready. Even the tiny ones wore a little bit of mascara. 

We rode to the Quince in the back of memo’s pickup truck. I felt like a badass – dolled up, wearing a dress – clinging on for dear life as the rickety cab bumped and bounced over every large rock beneath the tires. 

this was awesome

little Daniela riding like a pro!

The party was so extravagant. I’ve never been to a birthday celebration like that. The only comparable events in my repertoire of memories were wedding receptions I attended when I was young. Amanda looked like a princess. Everything was pink – ribbons, candles, tablecloths, flowers. They even had a live band and a disco ball above the dance floor. There was a red carpet extending down the center of the large room. Also: because of my awesome camera, Guillermo and Luz made me the official photographer of the evening. I have included my favorites in this post. Enjoy!

Luz made a ridiculous amount of homemade liquor. When I asked her what it was called, she smiled and replied “contrabano”. Contraband. She brews massive tubs of this homemade chocolate and coconut cream alcohol every time she has a party. I’ve grown to love it a little too much. Anyway, servers kept bringing out trays and trays of this stuff, so about an hour in, Liz and I were hammered. We meandered over to the kitchen later (one of my favorite things to do) and found Dago, Guillermo’s brother, pouring himself a shot of some really strong homemade liquor. He insisted on pouring us several shots, and by then, I was over the moon. It was clear that this alcohol was not meant for everyone. I felt like a VIP at a very important party. Later on, we wandered outside to get some fresh air and met some older Costa Rican guys who were sipping on imperials. They asked us if we wanted some beers, Liz and I readily accepted. The older one was donning dark washed denim jeans, an exquisitely pressed button-up shirt, and the largest cowboy hat I have ever seen. He explained to us that he was the owner of the local bar, and that if we would come dance with them, they’d get us whatever we wanted to drink. I was ecstatic. I figured Kelly (who had stayed home) would understand me accepting their offer.

We had an open bar – free drinks, shots, and cigarettes punctuated by bouts of capricious dancing. They taught us how to salsa and meringue. Looking back, the whole night has become a blur.

Later we decided to head back to the party (to the dismay of newly-found friends we had made at the bar) in case things were wrapping up soon. Outside, we ran into Luz’s little sister and her boyfriend. They conveniently had a bottle of rum wrapped elegantly in a brown paper bag. After being invited to drink more, we conceded gracefully and passed around the rum.

We ended up giving each other languages lessons – they taught me that I was “muy barracha” and liz and I explained the concept of being “fucked up”.

I’m kind of bitter that we just started making a lot of really good friends here, and now it’s time to go. Oh well.

As a side note – I always get barrata and barracha mixed up. The former means cheap, the latter means drunk. Situations where this has been a problem:

“I am really cheap right now.”

“I don’t want this one, do you have something a little more drunk?”

Eventually, Memo and Luz had packed up and were ready to go. The ride back in the truck bed did not help my stomach, but I could swear in that mindset that I was Indiana Jones. Somewhere I never thought I’d be: drunk, in the back of a pickup, bouncing through the rainforest in the middle of the night.

After we got back to their house, Memo and Luz thanked us for our help and offered to let us stay the night. For some reason I wanted to do the straight uphill two mile hike home at night while I was drunk. Crossing the river was terrifying. We made it home safely though, and I will remember that night forever.