Weekend: A Medley

Friday was my first full day in the country after a full work day at FWM, a late night out, and 12 hours of transit. I spent 10 hours on a church bus, barreling through homicidal traffic and evaluating patients throughout the gang-infested municipality of Comas. We survive. Even enjoy ourselves. Everyone is kind and welcoming and we're left with a lot to think about that evening and over the weekend.

To say that I was excited to sleep in the next morning would be a gross understatement.

At 7:30 AM (still 5:30 AM to my poor, broken body and consciousness) there is a heavy pounding on my door. I assume it's Lisa and Staci so, of course, having only really known them for about 2 days, I decide to be a cheerful and gracious representative of my nonprofit organization. Though I don't get out of of bed, lift my head from the pillow, or open my eyes-- I do them the great honor of answering without profanity.

"YEAH?"

In response I receive another series of loud thuds.

"YES????"

This goes on for a while.

Eventually I get out of bed, trudge to the door and open it to see the poor kid from the front desk holding a breakfast tray. He's been kicking the door.

I feel like a total bastard.

So I thank him, apologize-- and then apologize a little more. He turns around and walks away without acknowledging this pitiful need for sanction, leaving me somewhat emotionally empty at 5:30 in the morning. It's cold because the whole building is made of cement. I'm still a bit confused, standing in the hall holding a breakfast tray that I can't see because I haven't put my contacts in. Day 2.

Breakfast consists of coffee (which is amazing here, by the way), juice that I can't drink but opt to pour down the sink to be polite, and 2 dinner rolls with strawberry jam. Let the carb marathon begin. At least it's vegetarian.

The first shower never really ends here because once you've turned on the water hose hanging from the wall (not literally), it never actually turns off again (literally). It drips into infinity; 85% of the time it's hot water, so that's good. Much better than what others had prepared me to expect. The hot water becomes cold water once it's collected into condensation onto the walls, ceiling, metal fixtures, and mirrors and pooled down onto the floor. A good plan, one quickly learns, is to use your towel to dry and then immediately drop it on the floor to mop up the precipitation before you've cultivated your own breeding ground for West Nile and the mildew smell just builds itself a little country cottage in the fibers of your clothes...

So. Long before we learned that cab drivers are inclined to spray some kind of random ether in their back seats to knock passengers out, rob them, and dump them on the beach- we decided that Saturday would be a perfect, gorgeous day to catch a cab down to Miraflores and spend the day outside and walking around.

We start at Starbucks, where the internet is free and drink prices have reached the numbers we all know are imminent: a soy latte was S./9,50 (US $4-something... but still, pulling out a 10 to pay for coffee takes some getting used to). It's the first time in days that internet has been available so I spend a good hour or two on the remote email connection for Free Wheelchair Mission, composing a detailed email about Friday's experiences. Finally, I hit send and find out that my remote connection has timed out. Message lost. It's almost 2 PM at this point. Forget it. I'm hungry.

We walk a few doors down to Cafe Cafe. I've lasted almost 24 hours without fresh veggies and throw in the towel (I know that I said this wouldn't be a food blog, but Staci keeps taking food pictures with the "Culinary" setting on her camera. And honestly? Food is a bloody EVENT here. It's all that people do! So you get food pictures. Sorry).

We all have vegetables. I've been eating veggies for a week and haven't been sick at all. In fact, I feel better now than during my prep period of trying to eat meat to get ready... and everything is SO fresh here. They don't have the means to chock it full of preservatives so there's an obscene amount of flavor in everything. Food will not be the same coming home. I'm trying to mentally prepare.

We hang out, laugh- meals are a 2 hour ordeal here; the servers don't bring your check until you ask for it. People take their time. Sit and savor and enjoy their food and the company. It's easy to observe and fall into step with this easy going lifestyle. Weekends feel like weekends here, people move a bit more slowly (unless they're driving, at which point the attempts to create explosions are ceaseless). Outside there seems to be more color, more music, and an overall easier pace.

It's early evening by the time we leave the cafe and head out into the main square to scope things out a bit before walking the mile or so to the coast. The walk is cool and the closer you get to the water, the cleaner the air gets- breathing becomes a different process and you realize how much substance has accumulated in your lungs in the city. It's intense.

Once we're by the water, it's like being in a totally different place. The street that we take down to the coast stops right at the Parque de los Enamorados (Lover's Park) on the cliffs of Chorrillos overlooking the Pacific.

The park is enclosed within a labyrinth of waist-high tiled mosaic walls bearing romantic quotes. In the center, raised up on a platform from a pool of water is "El Beso" by Victor Delfin, a statue of two lovers embracing in an epic kind of kiss. It is said that couples compete for the honor of "longest kiss" under this statue.

The sculpture celebrates the lovers who gather to catch the sunset on the waters of the Pacific Ocean. During the few moments we trolled around, there were 2 weddings being photographed and by sunset all of the families and dog walkers had been replaced by couples- young and old- with no reservations about being openly affectionate with one another.

We stay until just before sundown, but catch a cab back to our hostel to arrive before dark. There is a big soccer game today (Peru v. Argentina) and we have followed it throughout the afternoon. It's getting intense in the car ride home and our driver (the best we've had the whole trip- even at this point) explains to us how things have been progressing.

We're invested enough at this point to pile on Lisa's bed and watch the rest of the game when we arrive back at the hostel. The game has been given 2 minutes of overtime. In right at 91 minutes, Peru scores to tie. You can hear cheers from the WHOLE hostel- above, below.... it's hilarious. Then their defense gets sloppy, Argentina scores and the game ends. Sunday is full of cranky Peruvians.

I'm learning to love television here. They play their reruns in order. So tomorrow's rerun of FRIENDS Season 3 will be the episode that follows whatever played today. It's nice! And watching English movies with Spanish subtitles is educational. 

We finish watching the game, half of Star Wars Episode 1, and a show about the food around Egypt.

Our hostel is bloody freezing and the moisture from the shower in the morning has crept into all of the linens. It smells like mildew (though the girls' rooms smells like mothballs, a problem with which I am not burdened-- and I say all of this now only because we were moved to another hotel today. So its funny in retrospect. The used Q-tip stuck to Lisa's headboard is hilarious to me...) and whenever someone slams the door, all of the windows shudder. Every window in the building has giant X's marked on them in packing tape. Our guess is that this is to prevent them from shattering when this occurs.

THIS is my foreign country adventure and I have no regrets, dammit!

Sunday is mellow. We go to church and wear headsets for the English translation. The volume wreaks havoc on my eardrums and when I try to turn the volume down, I accidentally change the station instead. So the first third of the service is Spanish sports and random music (their local stations still play U2, Queen, and Sheryl Crow). Everyone is very kind and it's definitely a different experience from what I am used to expecting from a church service. It's big and crazy-high-energy with a giant choir and lots of hand raising. Definitely an experience to remember. Everyone was very kind.

Paulo is "assigned" to us for the afternoon and he decides to take us somewhere interesting: Miraflores! We delicately break the news that we've ventured this-a-way on our own and so there's no real alternative plan. We head down to a pier-side shopping center, eat at Chili's and walk the mile or so to the Inka Market.

I'm not used to wearing closed toed shoes (or shoes at all, really...) and we have to stop at a botica on the way to buy a fist full of band aids to wrap around my toes which are NOT faring well in confinement.

The Inka Market is pretty great- like an indoor swapmeet of flutes and alpaca scarves and fertility figurines doing unspeakable things. I did not photograph these things and did not purchase anything this time around. Lisa and Staci have a few more people on their gift lists, but I have to travel to Cuzco again before I head home and don't feel like carting things around the country. It's fun to see, though and the people are a blast to watch.

Kids are absurdly adorable here. Cherub faces and no shame. They just stare at you in wonder.

Well... they stare at ME in wonder because I'm a pale blond and 5 inches taller than 80% of the population. Adults stare, too. It's somehow not as cute.

We have an early morning Monday, so we call it a pretty early day so that I have time to head back and re-write the long and detailed email that was deleted at Starbucks on Saturday. Workin'. No place for that on this blog.

This is a party blog, ya'll.

Clearly.

Oh- I did laundry on Sunday. By plugging my shower with an ashtray.

This experiment does not work, by the way... due to an inability to DRY the clothes. The room is too cold for it to happen naturally. We paid for a lavanderia today.

But I felt empowered for a while on Sunday. Fully prepared to face the week ahead.