Don Amado’s Asado
My host dad turned 66 this past Monday, so we celebrated on Sunday with a big family gathering and asado, or what we in the South would call a cookout. Sunday lunch is a special meal among Paraguayan families, and most Sundays we do something extra nice. For Don Amado’s birthday the menu was carne, chorizo, mandioca haku, sopa paraguaya, potato/beet/pea/carrot salad, fruit salad, budín de pan and jugo de uva (aka grape juice, which really means wine).
Asado Sundays begin on Saturday. Host Mom Ada does a lot of the prep work, like making the batter for sopa paraguaya, making a dessert like budín de pan (pudding/flan concoction), washing the table cloth, so that when Sunday morning rolls around it’s time to start cooking.
grilling isn't for sissies
inside the yellow barrel
Typically the men grill the meats outside, and Ada is a busy bee indoors. I float between the two, stopping to drink terere from time to time, offering to help from time to time. I can be trusted with setting the table, running things to and fro, chopping up pineapple, strawberries, apples, pears, bananas and oranges for the fruit salad.
terere circle with host sister and her best friend
We ate around noon, seated around two giant tables covered in food. Guarani banter fills the room, but it‘s OK because I‘m busy eating. I hum “Mmmm,” and everyone laughs because Paraguayans don‘t “mmm” when the food is good. They say heterrei. So I correct myself and enthusiastically exclaim “Heterrei.”
Afterwards, the table is cleared and conversation lingers a while longer until eyelids become heavy. And people begin dispersing, either home, or to a bed for siesta. I do likewise, encountering my host sister’s best friend occupying the second twin bed in my bedroom. We pillow talk a while until drifting into a food coma induced sleep. For two hours. Heaven.
Here’s the picture I snapped of Don Amado with his six kids.
the family
Nikki’s Cumpleaño
Volunteer friend Nikki also celebrated a birthday recently, so I went to her site to take part in the festivities at Ña Isabel‘s house. We had gone shopping the day before in the closest metropolis of Caacupe to make party purchases. We contributed grilled cheese sandwiches, popcorn and fruit salad. Her community members brought the best Paraguayan grub, including empanadas and mbeju, homegrown strawberries (to make strawberry juice!) and two homemade cakes!
Nikki with Ña Isabel
Ña Isabel has a lovely backyard with a giant cincho or open-air roofed structure with a long table. David and Brett, volunteers nearby, also attended. Kids decorated the place with balloons, and an admirer of Nikki recited a poem and recruited a guitarist to attend and serenade Nikki. Three times he sang “Happy Birthday”–twice in Spanish, once in Guarani. And then there were a couple renditions of a famous song sung at all milestone celebrations, “Felicidades,” and finally a very romantic song. Of the romantic song, my host mom leaned into my ear and said, “When you can understand Spanish better, you’ll re-listen to this song.” Haha.
one of several serenades
The party was lovely. Nikki’s community is very generous and warm-hearted. After the party we sat outside and discussed the lack of traffic laws in PY and common bribing of traffic officials, what we identify as classic North American music, and Garth Brooks. The guitarist seems to be a fan of country music.
la fiesta!
Unexpectedly an after-party erupted at the volleyball court near Nikki’s host family’s house. We played volleyball while we waited for the buses to come, and asked that the Paraguayans help us listen up for the micro when it approaches. Why do we need help? Because it’s pitch black (except for a florescent tube light that illuminates the volleyball court) and yet a Paraguayan can tell you what kind of vehicle is coming down the road when it’s out of eyesight.
the after-party at the volleyball court / bus stop
So some of the guys hurry me to the street urging me to wave down the approaching micro. Which is not a micro at all. It’s a sugar cane truck. So everyone gets a rile out of that. Silly norte americana can’t tell her vehicles apart yet. Realizing I have fallen victim to a prank, I laugh it off, feign anger, but accept their joke as a sign of accepting me for someone that can take a joke and laugh at herself.
Tags: birthday, carne, fiesta, food, Valenzuela
Thanks for all of the pictures in this post – love it!!