A Latin Party For a Gringo Who Never Knew What Happened

24 May 2026 #misc

It was his third visit to Colombia. But he will never forget this one: it was his best and wildest birthday.

Mateo turned 33. He’s from the U.S. and, fortunate enough, married to a Latina. At the party, he was the only one wearing the yellow jersey of the national soccer team. Everybody else wore white sports clothes.

As family members and friends arrived, they all greeted and congratulated Mateo. He doesn’t speak Spanish, except for a few words: “Hola,” “gracias,” and a few dish names. That’s enough to avoid starving while abroad.

Without saying a word but with a big smile, Mateo was the one serving snacks. He carried a tray of chips, cheese slices, and guava pastries.

A smile, handshake, and hug work in any language and in almost any culture.

Lesson: What connects us is greater than what divides us. We’re all humans after all.

Lesson: Learn greetings and dish names first.

The soccer game…

“All men line up,” a girl dressed as a referee shouted.

It was time for the first party game. Mateo was blindfolded and placed in front of a small gate. There were white lines drawn in the pavement, simulating a small soccer field. Did I tell you the party was out in a street? Two cars blocked either side.

Guests, also blindfolded, had to score a goal. Mateo was the gatekeeper. The first two guests made everyone laugh after missing the ball and kicking the air.

I lined up at the end. While waiting my turn, I met an ex-classmate from high school. He’s married to the referee, Mateo’s wife’s cousin.

“Soccer is not my thing,” I told my long-time ex-classmate. “I know. You’re into books,” he said. And he wasn’t wrong.

Lesson: As Colombians say, the world fits into a napkin.

Lesson: Find what you enjoyed as a kid. Or ask someone. Or let a classmate tell you.

The crazy hour…

After a couple more games, someone started to smuggle horns and whistles. “Don’t let Mateo see them.”

Then the music stopped. A different track started: “Horaaa Locaaaaa.” “Crazy hour,” literally. That’s when things get crazy and out of control in every party, for 15 minutes or so.

Everybody started to blow horns and whistles. I had a tricolor horn, yellow-blue-red like the national flag. Mateo was brought to the center of a dancing crowd.

Nobody judged his poor dancing skills. Neither did I. Just like soccer, not my thing. Every time Mateo sat, exhausted, someone pulled him back to the dance.

With beers, things got out of control as expected. A drunk uncle climbed on a chair, took his t-shirt off, and swinging it like a cowboy’s lasso. The dance stopped when uncle cowboy fell down. Laughter drowned out the music for a few seconds. He must still be taking painkillers, wondering why his back hurts if he doesn’t remember any fall.

“You’re now part of the family,” another drunk uncle told me and my sister after the cowboy show.

A couple of chairs away from me, an introvert 10-year-old boy was sitting with his arms crossed. He was quiet, observing every detail and every dancer. He probably wondered why he was born into that family and dreaded the parties ahead. When he grows up, I bet he will be a psychologist, anthropologist, or writer.

Lesson: Children and the drunks always tell the truth.

Lesson: Friendship can be as strong as family.

Lesson: You don’t have to join the crowd to participate and enjoy.

The piñata…

This was a 33-year celebration. But it had a round piñata with dark pentagons, just like a soccer ball.

Mateo was blindfolded again. Like a 5-year-old, with a stick in his hand, he had to break the piñata. The classic piñata song played in the background.

A bunch of adults and kids jumped to pick whatever was on the piñata. Drained of social energy, I kept sitting next to the 10-year-old observer.

After the party, the street was a mess: Full of empty bottles, used yellow napkins, and shiny confetti from the piñata.

It was time to clean. Most guests had already left, so Mateo and his wife grabbed a broom and black plastic bags. Poor Mateo had to clean a mess he didn’t make.

Lesson: Leave every place, at least, as clean as you found it.

Lesson: Make helping the hosts clean part of the party.

I bet Mateo hadn’t been blindfolded as many times in his life. He never smiled or danced that much before. He never felt like a celebrity with people asking him for a photo. Even after cleaning the street and understanding only a few words, it was his best birthday ever.