25th April continued:
and even a vase of fresh flowers perched on a wooden table. It made quite the homely change from the Costa Rican, dingy holes we were used to wandering into. We were then left alone by Fausto to our own sweet devices, with the promise of a hearty game of football on the plaza to watch with the others later.
The time after Fausto left was spent examining our faces in the tiny mirror, as, completely unbeknownst to us, we had managed to severely sunburn ourselves to within an inch of skin cancer whilst hanging out on the boat that morning. Suffice to say, there was much desperate usage of Maybelline foundation to hide the damage. This done, we set about waiting for Fausto to return and direct us to the plaza for football times. This wait went on for an excrutiatingly long period, and we were just about to cruise on down and try and make our own way there, when Fausto rapped at our hearty metal door and gestured for us and our technicolour dream-faces to follow him down the stairs.
Presently, we found ourselves with the rest of the Peru crew, watching Ruben trying to be a football legend, drinking the most amazing hot chocolate I have ever encountered and of course, posing for Trevor's photos. After a while, Rach and I decided to head back to the homestead to help out with dinner as a gesture of gratitude.
As it happened, the only thing vaguely dinner-related that we 'helped' with was peeling potatoes, which ended up looking less like food and more like alien life-forms by the time we had finished slicing away at them. Other than this, we spent the time in the kitchen, watching Magdelena hunkered down by her little fire, chatting to Sonia and Francesca in Spanish and weirdly enough, singing them songs from the Mighty Boosh. Soon, dinner was ready. The soup and omlette based meal was consumed in a ravenous whirlwind, pausing only to lol as we identified our miss-shapen potato efforts in amongst the broth. After dinner, things got a whole lot more exciting. We had previously been told that that night we would be attending a party in the village for about 1.5 to 2 hours (to this specific time-frame I commented "o, restricted fun...') and we would have to sport traditional Peruvian dress.
So it happened that we found ourselves in our little room with Francesca, being pulled and strung into blouses and skirts with belts so tight that I was left concerned that I may well see my knobbly potatoes one more time. My outfit was made doubly lolling due to the fact that it had been slung on over the top of my jeans, hoodie and converses, providing a gangsta feel to my look as my hood hung out over the top of my emboidered shirt. Hats in place, and we headed down to the village hall to dance the night (well a maximum two hours of it) away.
The dancing we learnt was quite something, and mainly involved the entire village and guests joining hands in a huge circle and running around the hall, remeniscent of a year 3 disco. We danced like this for the full allotted time, posed for copious Trevor photos, and after thanking our new fam profusely for the good times, headed up to our straw matresses for a well-earned rest. It was quite the day.