Dancing with Napkins

I got myself invited to a Bolivian wedding last night! And I didn't even know who was getting married until I was being driven to the church. (At least it wasn't my own wedding). What happened was that Orieta made me cancel my trip down the World's Most Dangerous Road to enjoy free food and dancing. Not a bad trade off.

Since I hadn't anticipated attending a Bolivian wedding (I mean, who does, really?) none of my clothing was appropriate. But Orieta came to the rescue again, borrowing a formal black dress and shoes from a friend. Orieta, by the way, has very useful friends, including a parking lot attendent who moonlights as a tailer and a woman who comes to her house to sell clothes from a store in Spain at a fraction of the price. I can't say the arrangement strikes me as completely legal, but at least I'm getting some fabulous clothes tailored to fit me perfectly ...

But back to the wedding. It was all fun and good -- Orieta's 20-something nephew oogled the new Asian girl (um, that would be me) for awhile before asking her to dance and then later that night, I somehow got stuck dancing with a 76-year-old wrinkled Bolivian man who really, honestly thought he had moves.

My second favorite part of the evening was when the music periodically switched from Bolivian to American. Specifically, during the cake cutting bit, the DJ played James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." Now, if you don't know the song, it's about a boy who never gets the girl of his dreams. I kept wanting to ask if they actually knew what the song was about, but figured I should just keep my mouth shut.

My all-time favorite part of the evening was when the music switched to traditional Bolivian tunes. Suddenly, the dance floor was PACKED with Bolivians waving white napkins. I have no idea what the napkins are about, but aside from the one moment when I needed to clean the cake off my fingers, it was such a joy to watch these people dance! They were having such a great time, all ages, all sizes, all dance abilities - it was as though the highlight of the evening had suddenly arrived, like when you're at a club and the mediocre music is played at first, but then two hours before closing time, they just crank it up with the fabulous tunes that get everyone doing their D-Qwon dance moves. It was just like that! In Spanish.

It really is too bad that Americans don't have dances that transcend generations like that. (The chicken dance and the electric slide do NOT count). As much as I love to shake things up, there is something so wonderful about traditional music and dance, especially in a country like Bolivia that has just been through so much hardship. The dances always symbolize something; they are reminders of past joys and sorrows; they are beloved by young and old alike.

The evening finally came to a close for Orieta and me around 1am (even though we were supposed to leave at 9pm). It was a struggle waking up this morning -- to get to the Tiwanaku ruins, I had to catch an early bus. Which ended up having to wait 45 minutes for me because of a marathon and a talkative maid-turned-tourist agent. But more on that later when I piece together my thoughts and post up a few pictures.