Picnic

The last morning of the homestay I said farewell to Don Segundo and his family and drove down the valley with Seth picking up the students as I went. There were many stories to tell and many new friends.

In the afternoon several of the families walked across the valley to join us for a big picnic. Romero and some of the local girls built a fire pit to grill the alpaca meat from the days previous, while a huge pot of rice and potatoes boiled on the open coals. We layed in the grass, played silly games with the children, and made small conversation in broken Spanish across cultures.

The food was soo good I had to just lay in the grass and rest too full to move, staring up at the clouds as the breeze rustled through the grass coccoon all around me. The local families smiled and laughed with us in shared quizical curiosity. Before they left we made heaping doggy bags of food for the woman to take home, though I noticed many quitely storing bits of scraps in the folds of their bright dresses while we picniced.

I volunteered to drive many of the woman and children back across to Colepato along the gnarled roads. I could tell it was a treat for many of them. Seldom do they ever get around more than by foot or horseback except to catch a rare milk truck and bus onward to Rivera or Azogues for special occasions. They giggled and smiled in glee bouncing across the potholes and squealed in delight as I coursed through the rocky stream and over atrocious bumps. As I waved goodbye I could see our camp far away from the other side of the valley, nesteled cozy in the green blanket of the pastures under the eaves of the forests rising up into the cloudy paramo ridgetops.

I wonder what they thought of us. I don´t think we committed any gross cultural emabarrassments, and I feel they enjoyed the company and learned as much from us as them. As for the students, well they can´t get the stories out of their mouths fast enough, filled with new found family pride.