En La Casa De Mi Primo
Oh how I wish I had a camera. My cousin Pepe had a dinner for his father last Saturday in San Juan. Mi tio turned 70 something. I decided to go since I was in town. My parents and I showed up at about 5pm y la carne ya estaba a todo fuego. I walked towards that backyard where the pachanga was happening y como es costumbre, le salude a todos. De abrazo a los hombres y de beso a las mujeres. I didn't know 90% of them, but I knew they were either part of my family or my cousins family.
The women were all sitting around a table chit-chatting while the men stood near the music and the keg. The older men, like my father and my uncle sat around in the middle of the yard telling stories. This is the way it happens. This is nothing new to me, but I just found it funny that now I seem like more of an alien to these men whom I was supposed to be talking to. A couple of them were my cousins (primos segundos) who I didn't know.
They were all drinking beer, wearing jeans, boots, a cowboy hat and some kind of jewlery. I had none. I was wearing my baggy khaki pants, a guayabera, addidas shoes, and a funky old man brit hat. I tried jumping in the conversation, but I knew they weren't interested. So, I listened. It was very civil, no rude comments, nada de groserias. They talked about a trip to Vegas and New Orleans, then made fun of a cousin from Monterrey who was late. They said he had to stop in El Centro (downtown) to do some shopping before he made it to the party. Inherintly, a sexist joke, but funny nonetheless.
Maybe I didn't fit in because I didn't know them that well - but it felt weird. That's the way it is though. I do talk to my gorrudo cousins whom I know. This was just different.