My First Communion

After coffee Julien and I had to arrange a bus ride BACK to Armenia. Our packs were still back there, and we hadn't decided if we were going to stay another day or not. I had a feeling that maybe James was a bit worn out from taking us around, although he graciously kept insisting we could stay if we wanted to. The very last thing he invited to was his niece's first communion party, which coincidentally was also MY first communion party, as I'm neither religious nor catholic. It was an outrageous and slightly eccentric affair where little girls wear white dresses that look like wedding dresses and pass out cake and food.

I literally sat there in a stupor for 3 hours, waiting for Julien to decide if he wanted to go to bogota that night or not. I peeked into the living room and was shocked to see 12 year old pairs dancing seductively in front of their aunts, uncles, and family friends. I'm 27 and I don't get that type of action, you know?? I seem to remember at my 7th grade dances guys and girls were still dancing with 4 feet in between them and hovering their hands above shoulders and around waists. But I looked over to James' older cousins, and they were also commenting in spanish how scandalous the kids were being, so I felt a little better about being a prude.

Eventually, after much discussions, confusion, and rushed packing, we last minute decided to take a night bus to bogota. I bade james and his family goodbye and begged for him to contact me when he visited new york or san francisco (i owe him bigtime) and Julien and I rushed off into the sunset.