Parties, Fiestas & Dancing

There’s nothing better than getting dressed up and heading out to a party.  I just love that I get to experience two totally different versions of what each of us consider a “Party”, especially when it involves each others families.

Most parties on my mums side of the family are usually held at my Aunty’s house, they’re pretty stock standard and you usually you know hour by hour how the night will unfold.

  • Arrive at 7.00pm (on the dot)
  • Walk through side gate to back yard, duck under tarps that are blocking out the cold
  • Scan back yard for closest chair to patio heater, if you’re real lucky get a chair with cushions, sit for the next 4 hours chatting to cousins and aunties and drinking wines.   Men, stand around with beers in hand talking about AFL footy, horse races, and AFL footy. (Claud is in his element when it comes to these topics)
  • Get asked by both Aunties and nan “when are you having kids?”
  • 7.30pm  Tea time – Meats cooked in the webber, served on a long table with the “good” table cloths, meats divided up in individual styrofoam  boxes, each box with laminated color pictures stuck on the front of what animal you are about to eat (along with the name of the animal in case the picture wasn’t a dead give away).  Sides of scallop potato, caesar salad, home made fried rice, jug of gravox gravy (traditional meat AND chicken flavour – fancy) and a mountain load of bread rolls from the local hot bread shop in one of those big heavy duty cardboard bags (to exy to go to Bakers Delight for this many people).
  • 10.00pm  It’s time for the smartest person to try and operate the music from the computer in the lounge room and somehow make it play all the way out to the speakers in the garage (bluetooth…what’s that?)
  • 10.15pm  Time to hit the dance floor. (that’s the small patch of concrete between the pool table, pot belly fire and couch from 1986 in the garage) There we are , myself and my aunty attempting to recruit others to the dance floor to join us in the nut bush.
  • Desert time, without fail it consists of Pavlova, chocolate ripple cake, truffles, cream cheese lattices, donut sticks (my sisters specialty – cuts Safeway donuts up into pieces and places them on skewers), cherry ripe slice, caramel slice and a fancy home made cake from my other Aunty.
  • Mum and aunties discuss the amount of food and that “we’re so lucky, we really are…..next time we won’t make so much, this is silly, just silly”
  • 11.30pm Partys Over
  • Forced to take a plate home (even though i’m about to physically explode) mix every meat and side dish together and then top it off with a piece of pav and chocolate ripple cake on top of the roast lamb.
  • Home time…Balance plate with one hand, raise other hand up, wave and yell goodbye at the same time, and that goodbye covers everyone at the party.

Now recently we had a party at Claudios dads house, his place is the choice of venue for their side of the family.

  • 6.45pm I’m deciding what to wear.  Come out to lounge room, show Claud a South American type outfit (slightly sexier than my normal get up, thinking I can pull this shit off, I’m linda bella rica),  walk out with stupid smile on my face thinking I look all sexy, do a twirl (well more of a shuffle, the dress is so fridgen tight) nearly split dress, head back to the bedroom, feeling like a try-hard, don’t even bother to get his opinion,  chuck slut dress on floor.
  • 7.05pm Outfit number 7, Feeling good with my choice, it’s cute, it’s me, it’s not trying to be all sexy, this dress is the one.   Claud comes over and say “it looks good..butt, if you just” he then proceeds to roll the hem up about 25 centimetres and pull the dress so closely to my thighs that it’s as if this dress is painted on. Roll eyes, storm off, mumble to myself (dickhead Claud). Chuck on floor.
  • 7.10pm Skinny jeans (that i’ll have to undo the top button after dinner) and a cute top with little boots, comfy and cute, done. (who needs his opinion)
  • 7.15 – Claud takes shower (anxiety level getting pushed to new levels).  Me -“what time does it start?”, Claud “8ish” (apparently theres no such thing as a start time for Chilean parties you just get there when you get there
  • 7.55pm arrive at party. (BYO truffles in hand, knowing there’ll be no deserts and I have to finish on something sweet.
  • Scan the room for any other english speaking guests, possibly one or two but could be wrong.
  • 8.30pm sit at table next to Claud, pray he doesn’t go outside to talk to someone and leave me. He does. Shit!!! Javeria:  “Ola, yo soy Javiera”  (hello, I am Javiera), Me: “Ola, Yo Kristy” (hello, I Kristy), Javier: “como estas” (how are you), Me:”bien y tu” (good and you)”  Javiera “ahhhh no bien, porque mi cabs no buenos” (shit, i’ve tricked her, she thinks i’m one of them, what’s she saying? I don’t know anything past my name and how I’m feeling, shit, just smile and nod, smile big and giggle a little like you understand what she’s saying, Me: “oh si si mmm” smiling away.  (I’ve nailed it!!)  Claud ever so kindly translates Javieras last sentence and It’ll be the last time she talks to the girl who giggles and smiles at a poor woman with a sore head. (dam it, I was doing so well)
  • 8.50 excuse myself to go to the bathroom, (That’s a cool straightener, triple stripe – oh i love that toothpaste, yum that hand soap smells delicious) the more time spent in there, the less time trying to pretend I fit in.
  • 9,20pm about to pass out from starvation, wonder how all the kids haven’t starved to death (if this was at my sisters the kids would have been sleeping for he last 1 hour and 50 minutes, not the Chileans, “its party, let kids party”…righto, keep going kids)
  • 9.40pm dinner is ready.  Trays upon trays of meat.  Try to figure out what is what, meat pieces so big one piece almost covers entire dinner plate.  I must have a “what the hell are those meats look on my face” because the man next to me states “carne, it’s carne”..and I’m thinking the signs, where are laminated lamb signs when you need them? Instead I dig in and pray that carne doesn’t mean horse in Spanish.
  • Get to table, google translate carne, “meat, carne is meat” (well thank-you very bloody much google translate, what type of meat?) Oh well, Dig in!!
  • 10.00pm have about 2 more servings of horse and rice, don’t even bother trying to pretend I can speak Spanish and use the opportunity to sit quietly and really make use of this quality thinking time ( now what episode am I’m upto on Girls?, is it episode 3 or 4).
  • 10.30pm in rolls Miguel (at least 63 years old) decks and disco strobe lights in hand.  It’s disco time!!
  • No recruiters required, music starts playing and bang, hips are shaking feet are gracefully moving back and fourth, men are dancing with women, it’s just so civilised (not a single handbag on the ground with girls dancing around it in sight).
  • I sit there talking to myself, go on get up, no don’t be stupid, go onnnnn, and before I know it Claud has got me up and dancing.
  • Look around the room, trying ridiculously hard to look like I know how to Salas (6 lessons, I should be sweet).  Get so into it that I start thinking I could possibly be asked to join JLo’s crew as a back up dancer.
  • Scan the room, can’t believe how good that 7 year old can dance, they must have salsa classes in the curriculum at primary school?  (Meanwhile, I’m still waiting for the opportunity to break out “heel and toe heel and toe, 1,2 ,3)
  • Jeans are officially cutting in and will have to do undo button if there’s any chance of fitting in a truffle.
  • 12.10am Look at the clock, shit, it’s after midnight, try to do the maths to calculate how many episodes i’ll fit in when I get home.  Give Claud the nod, time for a quick get away
  • 12.40am 37 cháos and kisses later
  • 12.45am fall asleep in car on the drive home.

 

This will be me, get to cocky and whamo!!

 

And for those who weren’t fortunate enough and didn’t get to learn heel and toe at school, here it is..

 

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