We've come back to Georgetown for our three-month check in! The eight of us converged on the capital city, which, honestly, terrifies me. Georgetown is not my cup of tea. So far the cab drivers have been nice, but walking anywhere subjects you to some of the most horrible cat-calls I've ever come across. These guys call out things I can't repeat, so trust me that it's the sort of comments that make a girl instantly gag.
The hotel they put us in was great. Sam and I got "the party room" (aptly named). All of us had SO MUCH to catch up on, that I think none of us slept all week. I'm fairly certain that none of us have any secrets anymore, and every weird illness, parasite, pick-up line, or awkward situation has been hashed out. Lance and Thomas have proven to be the funniest of all of us. I'm pretty sure Lance could talk about a nap, and it would still leave the rest of us in tears laughing. Also, I can't remember the last time I had so many burgers or pizza. It's not that we don't like Guyanese food, it's just that for the last three months, we haven't had anything BUT Guyanese food. Pizza and burgers are the closest we can get to a home-comfort, and the search for the best version is like a PC-wide treasure hunt. I honestly get whatsapp updates on it.
I got to Skype my mother and two of my aunts back home (I tried to call my dad, but for some reason it wouldn't work). I haven't been homesick much, but I do miss my family. It's so good to hear from them, and see their faces. Even better when it's snowy and cold there, and I can rub in the fact that it's never been below 70F here.
Since the whole point of bringing us back to Georgetown was so we could sit in on more "trainings" and present our ridiculously long reports about our sites, I have surprisingly little that I want to say about that.
I fly back to Region Nine tomorrow morning, and it will likely be another 9 months before I see the other seven members of my cohort again.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Saturday, February 18, 2017
The long-awaited wedding post
And now the news you were all waiting for: Orlenna's wedding. Traveling in and out of Region Nine is time consuming and expensive, so the less said of that part, the better. Of course, Orlenna was a stunning bride. We'll get to that. Her husband's whole family came from England and Canada to be there, and were very amiable and welcoming. I have to admit, it was refreshing to talk to someone who was feeling as out of place as I've been for the past four months.
I met the rest of my training host-family (all four of the other sisters!) as well as a few of the husbands, and (I think) all the kids. Vanessa's daughter, Chelsi, without a single question accepted the introduction of "your new aunt" and from that moment all of her demands for attention were precipitated by yells of "Auntie!" which took a bit of getting used to. The four-room house was full to bursting, with me, my host-parents, five sisters, brother, two of the husbands, and (I think) five of the kids packed in (it's hard to tell how many were actually there, since most of them were under 10 and impossible to keep still for any sort of head count).
I've gone from being referred to as the "fair-skinned daughter" to the "sister from Region Nine" which either means I'm getting tan, or they're tired of pointing out that I'm so pale I practically glow in the dark. Either way, it means I'm listed as part of the family in all introductions, which is both confusing to other people, and flattering to me. In fact, I was allowed to help the bridal party get ready. Orlenna, her sister and Matron of Honor Vanessa, the two other bridesmaids (Becky and another young teen), and both little flower girls (Chelsi and her cousin Julia) get dressed and all dolled up.
Exasperatingly, Chelsi insisted on constant confirmations that she was the most beautiful of everyone except the bride, whom she gracefully exempted.
When both the little girls were having their hair done, Chelsi kept up a constant chatter of:
"My hair looks more beautiful than hers. Auntie, doesn't my hair look more beautiful?"
"You both look lovely."
"Yes, but I look MORE lovely."
"You are both beautiful girls."
"My dress is prettier, though. Isn't my dress pretty?"
"You both have very pretty dresses."
"But mine is PRETTIER. And my shoes. My shoes are nicer."
"You're wearing the same shoes."
This went on for at least twenty minutes. Five-year-olds are hard to please.
For days it had been raining nonstop. We were beginning to think the whole wedding would have to be held in a boat (my own surmising, which the bride laughed at, but made the parents of the bride look slightly ill at the very idea). Tents for the reception had been set up, but none of the crepe decorations could be put in, because the wind would blow them into the rain and soak them. The church was decorated the night before, but about three balloons in (out of what I'm guessing were approximately a million), the air pump broke, leaving us with no option but to blow up the balloons ourselves. We corralled all of the small children and put them to work. Most of them couldn't tie the balloons after blowing them up, so had to be assissted, and many of the balloons were probably at least half-filled with kid spit, but they still looked pretty. I was moderately concerned that a few of the kids were going to pass out from the effort, and from lack of oxygen, but luckily none did as far as I know.
The rain stopped the morning of the wedding, with just enough time to decorate the tents and for the sand to soak up all the water so no one had to walk in a puddle. Although the service was supposed to start at 11:00, we were delayed until noon, but everything else went exactly as planned.
A few minor differences from US weddings that I've gone to:
1) shouting *helpful* advice (and some catcalls) at the bridal couple during the service was not unusual, nor really frowned upon even.
2) the bridesmaids and groomsmen sat in the front row, rather than standing up with the couple
3) The family was just scattered throughout the seats, rather than sitting together at the front
4) climbing up on the stage, and on the benches, and clamboring all around the couple as the service was going on, in order to get pictures, was actually encouraged, even though it got in the way of the professional photographer. I couldn't do it. I just could not convince myself that it was okay to walk up on stage and get in the middle of things for a photo.
5) the paperwork was signed and witnessed during the service
6) drinking and dancing weren't a thing, but that was probably because the bride's family doesn't approve of alcohol
Orlenna was stunning, like I said. Vanessa did her hair and make-up, so kudos to her, because here's the result:
One amusing hitch: the ring-bearer panicked at the last minute, cried, and refused to walk down the aisle. Here he is, about a minute before he fled back to his mother:
The reception was nice, and food was carried around to all the guests by the family of the couple, and was fairly informal. There was enough food to feed an army, and the population of chickens in the area was decimated. There were actually two receptions, one hosted by each family. The bride's family (my host family) held the reception with lunch in the tents next to the church, in front of their house, and a few hours later, the groom's family hosted another party (more cake!) in Georgetown. Only Daniel and I went from the bride's family, although a whole bus full of other party guests went. Oddly, the group from my training town seemed almost afraid to go inside and mingle, so the party had two sections: inside was the grooms family, the couple, and the Georgetown and foreign guests. Just outside was the group from town. I floated back and forth, because I didn't really know anyone inside except Orlenna, who was busy being the bride, but it seemed silly to hang out in the road just NEXT to the party.
And now, my favorite picture of the day:
I met the rest of my training host-family (all four of the other sisters!) as well as a few of the husbands, and (I think) all the kids. Vanessa's daughter, Chelsi, without a single question accepted the introduction of "your new aunt" and from that moment all of her demands for attention were precipitated by yells of "Auntie!" which took a bit of getting used to. The four-room house was full to bursting, with me, my host-parents, five sisters, brother, two of the husbands, and (I think) five of the kids packed in (it's hard to tell how many were actually there, since most of them were under 10 and impossible to keep still for any sort of head count).
 |
| So we gave them a job picking over rice |
I've gone from being referred to as the "fair-skinned daughter" to the "sister from Region Nine" which either means I'm getting tan, or they're tired of pointing out that I'm so pale I practically glow in the dark. Either way, it means I'm listed as part of the family in all introductions, which is both confusing to other people, and flattering to me. In fact, I was allowed to help the bridal party get ready. Orlenna, her sister and Matron of Honor Vanessa, the two other bridesmaids (Becky and another young teen), and both little flower girls (Chelsi and her cousin Julia) get dressed and all dolled up. |
| Julia was content with "you're both very pretty" |
Exasperatingly, Chelsi insisted on constant confirmations that she was the most beautiful of everyone except the bride, whom she gracefully exempted.
When both the little girls were having their hair done, Chelsi kept up a constant chatter of:
 |
| Here she is, already bored with the wedding. She does look pretty, though. |
"You both look lovely."
"Yes, but I look MORE lovely."
"You are both beautiful girls."
"My dress is prettier, though. Isn't my dress pretty?"
"You both have very pretty dresses."
"But mine is PRETTIER. And my shoes. My shoes are nicer."
"You're wearing the same shoes."
This went on for at least twenty minutes. Five-year-olds are hard to please.
For days it had been raining nonstop. We were beginning to think the whole wedding would have to be held in a boat (my own surmising, which the bride laughed at, but made the parents of the bride look slightly ill at the very idea). Tents for the reception had been set up, but none of the crepe decorations could be put in, because the wind would blow them into the rain and soak them. The church was decorated the night before, but about three balloons in (out of what I'm guessing were approximately a million), the air pump broke, leaving us with no option but to blow up the balloons ourselves. We corralled all of the small children and put them to work. Most of them couldn't tie the balloons after blowing them up, so had to be assissted, and many of the balloons were probably at least half-filled with kid spit, but they still looked pretty. I was moderately concerned that a few of the kids were going to pass out from the effort, and from lack of oxygen, but luckily none did as far as I know.
The rain stopped the morning of the wedding, with just enough time to decorate the tents and for the sand to soak up all the water so no one had to walk in a puddle. Although the service was supposed to start at 11:00, we were delayed until noon, but everything else went exactly as planned.
A few minor differences from US weddings that I've gone to:
1) shouting *helpful* advice (and some catcalls) at the bridal couple during the service was not unusual, nor really frowned upon even.
2) the bridesmaids and groomsmen sat in the front row, rather than standing up with the couple
3) The family was just scattered throughout the seats, rather than sitting together at the front
4) climbing up on the stage, and on the benches, and clamboring all around the couple as the service was going on, in order to get pictures, was actually encouraged, even though it got in the way of the professional photographer. I couldn't do it. I just could not convince myself that it was okay to walk up on stage and get in the middle of things for a photo.
5) the paperwork was signed and witnessed during the service
6) drinking and dancing weren't a thing, but that was probably because the bride's family doesn't approve of alcohol
Orlenna was stunning, like I said. Vanessa did her hair and make-up, so kudos to her, because here's the result:
 |
The reception was nice, and food was carried around to all the guests by the family of the couple, and was fairly informal. There was enough food to feed an army, and the population of chickens in the area was decimated. There were actually two receptions, one hosted by each family. The bride's family (my host family) held the reception with lunch in the tents next to the church, in front of their house, and a few hours later, the groom's family hosted another party (more cake!) in Georgetown. Only Daniel and I went from the bride's family, although a whole bus full of other party guests went. Oddly, the group from my training town seemed almost afraid to go inside and mingle, so the party had two sections: inside was the grooms family, the couple, and the Georgetown and foreign guests. Just outside was the group from town. I floated back and forth, because I didn't really know anyone inside except Orlenna, who was busy being the bride, but it seemed silly to hang out in the road just NEXT to the party.
 |
 |
| Father-of-the-bride loves bubbles |
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