My road traveled

On Christmas Eve I witnessed a family gift exchange that in its chaos was much like my family´s hannukah gift exchange. They differed in that here in Quito there were a lot less boys, more babies, and more excitement over clothing. The only reminder that it was Christmas Eve and not Channukah was the tree, carols sung in both English and Spanish (the translation of rudolf the red nose reindeer is rodolfo the special reindeer), and the traditional turkey dinner eaten at 10:30 pm. Getting dressed up and prepared was also a full day event. I broke the cardinal rule of the Tufts Coalition against Pointed Shoes, and was forced to borrow a pair of pointed boots. As a cofounder, I am disgraced.
Sunday morning, walking into a beautiful house in the suburbs of Quito, I stood shocked and began to salivate. I was surrounded by trays piled high with bagels, breads, cheeses and lox. LOX! Where was I? Freshly squeezed orange juice and an endless supply of champagne was passed around. Soon homemade waffles appeared off the griddle.
One could easily has been confused and mistaked themselves for a Jewish kitchen except for a lack of complaining, clutzy accidents, and a a big plate of jamon serrano in the center of the table (yet if you learn anything in spanish speaking countries, its that ham is not meat!).
Ecuadorians know how to celebrate holidays and provide Jewish mothers everywhere with dangerous cookoff match. Without knowing it, they also made me feel a little closer to home.