"These post are are about as rare and bizarre as most bigfoot sightings," said Chuck Revels, leading Sasquatchologist

Another stream-of-consciousness rambler from your beloved Manic Hispanic. The more I procrastinate, the more things happen, and the longer this nonsensical diatribe is going to have to be...

As I sit here with a wet towel draped over my stomach, which is both as red and ridiculous as the red shelf at the Shoppe, I shall try to recount the most recent events of my life.

Ica: Vendimia 2009....also known as Perdimia, which comes from the verb "perder," which means to lose...as in...LOSE YOURSELF.
How you lose yourself is up to you.
The Vendimia is 1-2 week long bacchanal celebration of the grape harvest in the southern provinces of Peru. The Vendimia I went to was in Ica, where my aunt July lives - a 5 hour bus ride from Lima (This costs ~6 bucks). Some things I figured out after watching the charter bus provided film entertainment: 1. ) Patrick Swayze speaking Spanish is far worse than Patrick Swayze speaking English, which is far worse than the lady who talks about windchimes and the Maltresses. 2.) I don't particularly understand nun humor. Perhaps more importantly, I have a new favorite snack - Tio Rico's Camotes (sweet potato chips). They cost 30 cents and are sold by pretty much every street vendor in Peru. At various bus stops, people selling sandwiches, chips, ice creams, and newspapers would crowd onto the bus, try to make a quick buck, and then get off at the next stop. Needless to say, many snacks were available.
Enough transit talk. Lets get to the carne y papas.

My Aunt July, Uncle Walter (by marriage) , and 8yr old cousin Camila live on the top floor of a 3 story family apartment thing. Two of my uncle's sisters and their families live on floors 1 and 2, along with Mama Cela, the family matriarch. Even though the Castros aren't TECHNICALLY my family, I have known them my entire life, and they have always treated me as such. In fact, as far as grandmother-figures go, I'd much rather have Mama Cela than my goofy ass step-grandma who singlehandedly dominates the world of backhanded compliments. Anyways, its a fun place to stay because there's always something going on...and if not, all you have to do is yell down to someone's window and tell them to hustle upstairs.  

I shall now introduce Stefanne, my 20 yr. old "cousin" (who is really a Castro cousin of a Valdez cousin but we have called each other "prima" since we were 2) who lives on the second floor of the Castro compound.  See photo above for an accurate depiction of our adorableness.  And now, for the inescapable twist of latin american adversity...I shall now introduce, Stefanne's "BB" (bebe), Salvador, who just turned 4.  
Asi es la vida...

Stefanne is my partner in crime for several reasons.  1.) We are the same age.  2.) I have a penchant for very charismatic laydayyyssss...who, beneath their shiny aluminum christmas tree party girl exterior, manage to hide lots of baggage in their bras and in the tiny nonfunctional pockets of their super tight pants.  3.) She KNOWS people...like taxi drivers who will give her half fare, bouncers who will let her in for free, bartenders who slip her free drinks...basically, better than any lonely planet guide.  Needless to say, my male cousins don't really like that I hang out with her - she has a kid (he doesn't live with her except for during the days on the weekends though), she is a smoker, her drink of choice is whiskey and redbull, and she has a lot of...questionable friends...really nice people, but they sort of fall into the same category as she does...."mistake makers."  But I like mistake makers.  In fact, I consider myself to be a low-grade mistake maker; we have an unspoken bond that is fortified by Lucky Strikes and blind man-hating when the moment deems it necessary.  

Alright.  I've set the scene.  Now for the drama.