Panetón – The Peruvian version of the much-dreaded fruitcake. Except that in Peru, the Panetón is THE quintessential holiday treat, gifted to every man, woman, and child and gladly accepted and devoured. Panetóns come in a mind-boggling selection of brands, including every supermarket and drugstore which have their own store-name version. “Yes please, I’d like my prescription Zoloft and…Why not? Throw in a Panetón.”
My particular Panetón has a story of its own. Let me begin this bready discourse from the beginning…
Last September I decided to stay a third year as a Peace Corps Environmental volunteer in Peru. As a perk (and surely necessary break) to staying on another year, PC pays for a flight home and allows a month leave of absence. Many volunteers also use this time to travel around South America, as I decided to do. I pinpointed Buenos Aires as a no-brainer since I’ve only heard amazing things about it and will not have another opportunity to go anytime soon. So I booked a flight and drooled over my guidebook at all the amazing stuff I was going to do. In October, I was g-chatting with one of my best PC friends and found out we were both going to be there the exact same week! As if it couldn’t get any better, I facebooked another friend who lives in Buenos Aires, and was also put in contact with a friend of my boyfriend’s who lives down there and said he’d be happy to show me around. For my week in Buenos Aires, I already had tour guides and a full schedule.
As the holiday season came into full force, the Panetón sales sprang up in every corner. For a visit to the host family I had lived with for 2 years, I selected a Panetón with a pretty red box. Panetón packaging varies from plastic bags to foil bags, to boxes, to full-out commemorative tins. But as I was learning from my Peruvian boyfriend, the most sought after Panetóns are those with the best tv commercials, as well as the prestigious classic brands, information only a native would know. He tried to convince me to buy a certain brand, only S/.6 more than the one I had selected, but what did I know? I could play the uninformed card. And anyway, my host family would be thrilled with whatever I gave them. They don’t have tv to see which brands have the best commercials this year. Apparently affected by the holiday spirit, my boyfriend was converted into his childhood self as he begged me to buy him the afore-mentioned Panetón. I looked at him and said no, he could buy it himself. I was a week away from Argentina and couldn’t be spending on extraneous expenses.
Later that week I began intense planning for my trip. Buy bus ticket to Lima: check. Reserve hostel in Buenos Aires: check. Decide what to bring for the summer weather of Argentina and then the winter of the states: check. Find passport: check.
Saturday: T-3 days until departure. I am spending the day in my new apartment - cleaning, unpacking, organizing, re-organizing, and preliminary trip packing. My boyfriend calls me from work to say he has gotten permission to leave work early that day to go to our favorite rock-climbing place, and if I can go. I have a lot to do in the next 2.5 days, so I decline. He comes by to say goodbye and says he’ll be back tomorrow, Sunday afternoon.
The night passes and I wake up early Sunday morning. I head to the market to buy a duffle bag and some ingredients for lunch. The day passes quickly as I’m cleaning and making a to-do list for the few business hours I will have Monday morning before my bus leaves.
My friend calls me and we make dinner plans, being her last dinner in Huaraz before she heads off to start her own third year, but working in Lima. A few hours later, we’re at dinner when she receives a call that the next day there will be a 24-hour roadblock to protest the building of a new mine a couple hours drive outside of Huaraz, blocking passage to Lima. I feel a slight panic, and have her promise to call me when she arrives at the bus station later to see if she’s heard any developments.
On the way back from dinner, the roadblock is pushed to the back of my mind, since they are quite common and are poorly organized, disbanding before they really start. We pass the grocery store and I think of my boyfriend who must have returned from rock-climbing by now. I remember the Panetón he had wanted, and think up a surprise goodbye evening before I head off on a month of vacation. Along with his Panetón, I buy the traditional hot chocolate ingredients that are drunk at midnight Christmas Eve. Since we will both be with our families, we could share our own early Panetón and hot chocolate. I call his cell phone to see where he’s at, and it goes straight to voicemail. It’s either turned off (unlikely) or he’s still in the rock-climbing place where there is no cell phone reception (strange, since he knows I’m leaving and he has to work in the morning.) Since I can’t get a hold of him, I return to my house and continue packing. Half an hour later, with my stuff exploded all over the room, my friend calls from the bus station to say that the roadblock is the real deal and I should get there ASAP to catch a bus. Now the real panic sets in, as I look at all the stuff I’m trying to cram into one duffel bag, trying to pack for summer and winter, international travel, and my once-a-year visit to my family. I call the PC security officer to see if he’s heard how legit this protest is, and he says I might as well try to catch a night bus just in case. With my phone gripped between my ear and shoulder, smashing everything into my duffel, I call another friend who tells me the same thing. Five minutes later, I’m in a taxi heading towards the bus station, and can’t get through to my boyfriend. What a crappy non-goodbye before leaving for a month!
At the counter, I flash my ticket for tomorrow, asking what are the chances of my bus being cancelled. The completely helpful, pleasant, competent desk people, who are definitely giving me their undivided attention, tell me to wait and see tomorrow. I rapidly explain that I have a flight to catch tomorrow night, so if my bus gets cancelled, I will miss my flight. I see a bus pulling out, and ask if I can change my ticket to right then. She slowly pulls up the computer information, as I watch one of the last buses pull away. In the boarding area, I hear them call for the last bus out. This is the super-exclusive-expensive-full 180 degrees bed bus, which is double the price that this PC volunteer usually spends. I would have to pay the difference. Everyone behind the counter spends a few precious minutes giving me their opinions on the strike and saying I should wait it out, even though I see a computer screen full of empty seats on the now-boarding bus. Okay, I pull out my wallet. I place my bank card on the counter and she tells me I can’t use it. But I always use it here, and ask why I can’t use it. She points to the computer screen clock, which says 11:05pm. She says they stop using the card machine at 11:00pm. Are you kidding?!?!?! If you people hadn’t spent 10 minutes chatting amongst yourselves, flirting, and taking an eternity to look something up, it would be within the time. Plus, the card machine doesn’t decide to shut itself off at 11:00pm because it’s had a long day. There is literally no time for arguing. Luckily I had just gone to the bank. Unluckily, I bought a Panetón. I need to pay S/.45 difference in price. I have S/.30. Exactly what I spent on the Panetón for a special surprise goodbye that was abruptly cancelled.
So readers: Did my bus leave as scheduled the next day? Did I make my flight to Argentina? Did my boyfriend return to enjoy his surprise Panetón? Let’s leave it as this: I spent all day making phone calls, crying, yelling, and trying to rationalize how it came to be that I spent $400 on a fruitcake.
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