A homestay in Coffeeland

There is a very particular kind of awkwardness that I believe is only known to guests in home-stay situations and particularly those in smaller towns.  It is the kind of awkwardness that is perhaps avoided in daily life either by the anonymity of a city dwelling, or the presence of ones own family.  It is a funny mix of feeling that one has overstayed ones welcome, that one is somehow crashing a party and not having anywhere else to be.  When work is done and the kids are no longer as cute as they once seemed, a guest is left with a lot of alone time.   But it is not easy alone time.  It is a discomfort explained best by the feeling one gets when rereading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time.  Guilt, at being reclusive. Pleasure at finding something familiar, and then guilt again at not forcing oneself out  the door – a curious feeling.  But what comes of this stomach curdling can be curiouser still. 

A cuter dance

And so I found myself Friday night in the procession of Saint Vincent, the local patron saint who comes out for a moonlit stroll once a year to start off the local three day celebration.  I, an non believing Jew standing one head taller than all, and as much as 2 feet taller than many, in a town of no more than 300 inhabitants, all of whom are related to one another, was walking with over half of them down the candle lit path around town.  I can't say it did much for my regular discomfort in the Jimenez household after all, there were a dozen other Jimenez households walking with me. But I stuck it out all the way back to church and then to the ensuing festivities.  True there were other people all alone (my host family had responsibilities that took them away from me), staring off with nothing to say.  But everyone has the right to be sulky at ones own family reunion. So at first I was a little annoyed that no one in town wanted to talk to me, however, I found that after helping with the beautiful flying paper lanterns and chipping in for some sugar cane alcohol the whole festival became a lot more bearable, if not enjoyable.  The catechism youth group put on at least four dances ranging from the adorable to a mildly inappropriate (at least for 11 year olds) “Gangham style” hip jerker. 

"Globo" or paper lantern launching

Chickens for sale

A few local crooners did some karaoke for us.  The church auctioned off some donated chickens to raise funds.  And a skit about driving while drunk was performed for the benefit of I'm not sure who, considering not a soul drove to the party, the town being far too small.  Fire played a role throughout – my host father was in charge of that, the paper lanterns dotted the sky, fireworks shot up at irregular intervals, and finally there was the “Vaca Loca” or “Crazy Cow” This was a costumed man with about one hundred different sparklers and fire crackers attached to him dancing around the central town plaza.  Needless to say, the kids had been talking about this for days.  And they were quite tired enough around midnight when it finally burned out and the family friendly part of the party came to an end.