Freshly showered and slightly dolled up—straightening my hair and putting on even a little make-up take a lot of effort these days—I put my LBD and nude high heels on. I was about to go to my first Peruvian wedding and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
I was in Pimentel, a beach town about three hours via public transport away from Olmos, staying at another volunteer’s house. Her host parents had invited me to their nephew’s wedding, which we had heard might last until 6AM.
Not wanting to miss out on a cultural experience, I quickly accepted the invitation and was excited that the night had finally come.
There had been a wedding mass earlier that evening that we opted out of, mainly because I arrived so late in the day. But, the wedding reception was just beginning. As soon as we walked out the front door we could hear the music, something that vaguely reminded me of the Chicken Dance. We walked up the sandy hill to the street where the celebration would take place, the music growing louder.
A crowd had already gathered near the entrance of the outdoor tent that was blocking off the street, and nosey neighbors were trying to sneak peeks into the event. We walked in, and I immediately felt underdressed. The first people I saw were decked out, some of the younger women wearing dresses acceptable for a prom. We found the volunteer’s host parents and watched the bride and groom as they danced with all of the “important” people- the Padrinos.
So far, what I’ve learned of Padrinos is that they usually sponsor the party usually by paying for it in whole or part. The couple had Padrinos for the civil union, the Catholic marriage, the wedding celebration, etc. In total, there must have been 5 couples.
Anyway, the bride and groom continued dancing to the same song with the Padrinos, followed by siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and any other important person in attendance. And yes, that did include the other volunteer and me—after her host mom nudged us into the mix. After they danced with what seemed like all of the people in attendance, they had a receiving line to greet whomever they did not dance with. As more people trickled in, I noticed how varied the outfits were and felt better about my dress choice.
While the receiving line was happening, servers handed out small glasses of red wine. Finally, the wedding party took their seats around a table, while the guests either sat in a chair that was circling the inside of the tent or stood towards the edges. Various people, including the father of the bride and the groom himself, gave speeches.
The happy couple had their first dance, together, to a song that they chose and then all of the Padrinos got on the dance floor with the couple to dance. Waiters began serving food—a chicken and potato salad-like meal—and then a “thank you” gift was brought out for the Padrinos—a full chicken and a giant pastry bread.
After eating, the party really started. Bottles of beer were distributed and the band set up to play. The bride changed into a second, shorter dress and the music began. People paired off, and the volunteer’s host sister recruited us to dance with various young men. Everyone on the dance floor was paired off, and no one was dancing solo. The dance floor was packed and where people weren’t dancing, there were drinking circles.
A drinking circle consists of people, in a circle, passing a bottle of beer and a plastic cup. One person will pour his drink, pass the bottle (while saying, “Salud”), and drink from the glass. They then shake out any foam and pass the cup for the next person to do the same.
Once we were tired of dancing and avoiding drinking circles (a difficult feat, and I wasn’t all that successful), we decided to call it a night. We returned to the house, where we could still hear the music and fell asleep, wondering how everyone else could stay out celebrating so late.
We found out later that the celebration did not end when the party ended early Sunday morning. Sunday through Tuesday, little celebrations continued with the wedding cake finally being cut and eaten on Tuesday. Could you imagine looking at a cake for four days and not being able to eat it? My sweet tooth would be mad!
PS: Check out my fellow volunteer’s first hand account of the entire wedding on her blog!
Brittany McGee 