It's Peru, Baby.

Tito's grandmother has come to stay with us again. She's a nice old soul, always cheerful and chattering on. For the latter reason I do admit that I studiously avoid being alone in her company... she talks incessantly and I find it virtually impossible to understand her Spanish. Old people are often rather hard to understand even in English, so there's just no chance of meaningful interchange in Spanish, I'm afraid. Although, I am beginning to realise that there may be no need for me to understand precisely what Tito's grandmother says. It seems that when she addresses me the fascinating topic is always, and without exception: that I should have babies. It's about time, I look strong enough for 10, forget the dog, have a baby, I would look even more beautiful breastfeeding etc. etc. etc. For those of you who know me, you will be aware of just how very little I enjoy this kind of talk. I was beginning to wonder why I must always be on the receiving end of this kind of ear chafing banter, and indeed what exactly her big issue with reproducing is. So, today at lunch Tito and I quizzed her. When was her first baby? At 16! When was her last baby? At 47! How many in total? 15 - 3 deceased. No wonder the poor woman can talk of nothing else - she was a one woman baby factory! She couldn't possibly understand my babyless life in the same way I can't fathom her babyfull life.