días libres

home: the culture shock is gone but the parasites aren't

2006-04-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

10/04/06
I miss speaking Spanish. By the end of the trip I was looking forward to no longer having to try to understand native speakers in my non-native language. But that was because I didn't realize what a toll being sick for 5 1/2 weeks straight, essentially, was taking on me, just how worn out I really was.

It's so strange to be back home, and to think that the things I notice now about my own culture in comparison to Perú are just as important and could reveal just as much as it did the other way around when I was first there....

25/04/06
The culture shock
In the first week home I started noticing habits I'd picked up in Perú like hoarding napkins (because they double as toilet paper in all those bathrooms that don't have any) and small change (no one ever has enough, and you can wind up paying too much for something if you don't, either, and it also can feel a lot safer in some circumstances to pay with exact change since it shortens the time spent in the transaction, with your money out).

It also took me a while to get used to putting toilet paper in the toilet. And dear lord, our toilet paper is wide! You get free water here at restaurants, that you can actually drink. And there's public transit. And tax.

And the parasites
Drew and I started a five week parasite cleanse this afternoon. I hope that I get some focus back, because ever since we got home, I've been in a daze. I had thought at the end of the trip that I'd lost my Spanish since I hadn't been practicing it much those last few weeks, but being home and still having the same sort of difficulties with comprehension and memory but in my life in general, I realize that it's the parasites.

I've learned that parasites release a really toxic amount of immonia in our systems, and that extended parasite infestation can cause things like mental fatigue. Which is actually a huge relief because I didn't know what was wrong with me. Especially since I didn't know that I still had parasites, or had them again. When I got really a lot sicker again right before I came home, I was diagnosed with a bacterial infection and put on really strong antibiotics. And when I stopped having diarrhea and stomache cramping a few days after I got home, I just thought I was better. But I wasn't.

It's strange that the most immediate lasting effect of my 4 months in Perú is this sickness that almost took over the trip, and thinking that Perú may have altered my body as much as my experience. But that doesn't diminish the effect it's had on my perspective.

I set out to gain fluency in Spanish and experience being in another culture. And I did feel confident in my Spanish by the end of my time with the Ramirez family and with the Garro Arana's. And I was really there. I can still feel the moments of communion when I would get to really communicate with a child who had approached me, or one of the many women that shaped my experience there. I know now what it feels like to be in a community based on interdependence largely because of some of the women I got to know. The women of the Ramirez family, their long time friends, Perla, Patty, Janette. These women have perhaps made the biggest impact on me, and I miss them already. I miss my Perú.

At least I still have the parasites... for a few more weeks, anyway.

mi otra familia de Perú

2006-04-04T12:54:00.000-07:00

4/04/06
I leave tomorrow, and it just wouldn't feel right if I didn't visit the Garro Arana's who befriended me and asked only that I keep in touch.

the beach again

2006-03-29T13:51:00.000-08:00

One of the coolest things about Máncora is the kiteboarding, which I'd never seen before even though I'm told it's done as close to home for me as Seattle.

29/03/06
I'm still really sick, and drinking a good half a bottle a day of the electrolyte solution (think Pedialyte but in interesting flavors like lemongrass and yerba buena), and we're really just laying low. And again, I'm seeing more of the area outside the tourist section than when I was here before.

Cuzco otra vez

2006-03-23T17:10:00.000-08:00

22/03/06
The beach is not Drew's scene. But when I took the theft so hard, he wanted to do whatever it would take for me to be able to feel okay, and I need to be back at the sea. The altitude and cold and being sick and then La Paz were all just too much for me.

But first we're spending a few days in Cuzco. And, like in Lima, I'm seeing parts of the city that I just didn't see with Dustin. I'm seeing more than just the tourist area.

This is a popcorn bicycle similar to one in Puno that was parked in front of our hostel every day and which led me to develop a popcorn addiction at a time when I wasn't able to enjoy eating very many things. The one in Puno was spiffier, though, and the popcorn was not pink.

La Paz

2006-03-20T10:30:00.000-08:00

Can you say swollen eyelids? how about blotchy face?

20/03/06
The swelling has actually gone down a fair amount. I cried all night last night starting in the evening when I discovered that my small bag had been stolen. Now, it didn't have my passport, camera, or money in it. But it did have all my Spanish notes from last year, this year, and the whole time I've been in country so far - including pages and pages of words in English and Spanish that I had compiled during my homestay. A personal dictionary that reflected the things I was hearing, thinking about, and trying to express during my time with both the Ramirez and Garro Arana families.

There were some items of monetary value, but the biggest loss is my notes, and the email addresses of a few of the fellow travellers I've met, the ones I connected with...

I was so completely out of it from the long day we'd had that I wasn't even aware that we were following a stranger, I was just following my companions. And then I went upstairs. Drew's description of The Hustle is vital because he was there for it. I was just there for when I completely freaked out.

And freak out I did. When I came back and asked where my bag was and he realized that it had been taken, I just flipped. I started crying and ran outside to look for them, to look for it. I was sure that they would look inside, see that it wasn't what they'd hoped, and just ditch it. I asked people I saw ¿viste dos hombres con un bolso de la playa? crying crying making an enormous scene, probably the biggest scene I've ever made.

It's fair to say that I overreacted, but we're still going back to Perú this afternoon. I can't stay here, I can't let go yet. I'm too tired. La Paz is a misnomer as far as I'm concerned.

Copacabana, Bolivia

2006-03-18T14:21:00.000-08:00

La Paz herself in the main plaza in Copacabana
17/03/06
We get to the little border town of Copacabana around 11 in the morning after already having been up for 7 hours and riding first in what was either a very small bus or a very large van, and then the rest of the way after crossing the border in a combi style van, and I am just desperate for a nap in a bed. Drew heads out for some food and exploration while I crash.

Like a good marinero, he finds boats for hire. Apparently after seeing the way Drew steps into the boat, this man recognizes that he knows what he's doing and asks him if he wants to take the boat out by himself.

Which he does.

Everything is just a little bit different here. The money is worth half as much, so everything that would be 1 sol in Perú is 2 bolivianos here. And the people just seem ever so slightly less friendly, not mean, but less outgoing and curious.

18/03/06
We have lunch in the market in an effort to get back to being more frugal and less touristy, but make the very tourist mistake of not finding out the price in advance, so we wind up being rather ridiculously overcharged. She must have been planning on getting one over on us, because she won't let me take her picture.

This woman, however, has just had her lunch (at surely the proper price) and is happy to pose.

Puno

2006-03-16T19:19:00.000-08:00

13/03/06
The altitude is giving me a hard time, headaches in the morning and trouble breathing even with having quit smoking. It's also really cold here for me. I'm coming from 2 months on the north coast where it's very hot. Drew does not agree that it's very cold, but he just came from winter in Olympia and he's healthy, so he can't possibly understand.

I've been sick again (and not with the cold I had in Lima before Drew got here, if you know what I mean) for 13 days now, and have gotten increasingly more sick over the last week. Everything is basically just going through me. And I realize that when I was sick at the beginning of my trip (with Dustin), I was sick for a month and that Drew and I only have a month left now, so I decide that I will go to a doctor if I'm not starting to get better in the next couple of days. But when I wake up after our siesta and am feeling even worse, I decide that I'm going to a doctor right now. I can't wait 2 more days.

So we look in the phonebook in our room and choose the closest doctor, hoping that doctors also work on the schedule that is predominant here of being closed in the afternoon and open again later in the evening. When we get to the doctor's office, we're in luck. He has hours in the evening, but he also turns out to be a pediatrician. But more luck has it that they take pity on me as an obviously very sick foreigner, and his nurse calls him to come in (he has hours, but isn't actually in the office).

So we wait for 30 or 40 minutes, and when Dr Peña Vicuña gets there I'm really glad that I accidentally picked a pediatrician, because he's so patient and just gives the impression that he really cares. He's very thorough, as well, and after asking me loads of questions, gives me 2 options. The first is that he'll write me a prescription for a general antibiotic since we were planning on leaving for Bolivia tomorrow, and we can just hope that it kills whatever I have, or he'll write me a prescription for a stool analysis at the lab upstairs so that he'll know exactly what I have and can then write a more accurate prescription. He recommends the analysis because he thinks I may have amoebas.

Drew says he's happy to wait a couple of days so that I can be treated, and we opt for the latter choice. Dr Peña then provides me with a tiny little plastic bottle in which to deposit my sample tomorrow morning, and instructs me to come down with it right at 8 am so that I'll be the first one there when they open and thus won't have to wait as long. He also says to call him when I get the results about an hour later and that he'll come in (even though he doesn't have office hours in the morning) and look at the results and write me the specialized prescription. And he charges me only S/30 for this visit, which is essentially an urgent care visit since I showed up without an appointment an hour before they normally close, not to mention the fact that I am at least 15 years too old to be seeing a pediatrician. And the follow-up tomorrow is included. Forget the exchange rate, if it even cost 3o USD in the states to see a doctor without insurance, we could all jump for joy.

14/03/06
We get up early, and I find that I'm really really glad that I have the odd habit of saving the little plastic bags everything comes in, otherwise this ordeal would be a whole lot grosser, and we head off in the cold, rainy morning to the lab right as they open. I give the woman there my sample, which I find very embarassing, and the S/20 the lab work will cost, and we leave to get breakfast while we wait for the results. When we get back to the lab, she tells me that she needs another sample to run more tests but that it will only take about 5 minutes this time. So I give her another sample and another 5 soles, well actually it winds up costing S/6 because we only have a 10 sole bill and she doesn't have enough change (change is a constant issue here in Perú).

Then she gives me my lab report, and lets me use the phone to call Dr Peña, and when I ask her ¿que tengo? because the reason she wanted to run another test was that the original one had come up negative for amoebas, she tells me I have un infeccion fuerte.

Dr Peña comes in more quickly than last night, and goes through the results with me. It's difficult to understand this in Spanish, but basically I have lots of inflammation/many white cells, abundant and various bacteria, as well as some sort of parasites. The good news is that I won't have to take antibiotics at all, that he can write me a prescripiton for medicine to restore my natural flora and that will take care of it. And the special electrolyte solution he prescribed last night for after every time I go is already helping me feel better - I had to have been really dehydrated. I'm also to avoid fatty foods, milk, and, of course, fruits and vegetables since they're probably where I got all this stuff to begin with...

15/03/06
I decide this morning after having to get up to go to the bathroom that I'm going to start calling Perú Poo-roo. Maybe I've developed brain damage from being so sick, but I think this is terribly clever when I get back into bed and tell Drew.

16/03/06
I'm starting to feel a little better, so we're leaving for Bolivia tomorrow.

This is a mototaxi that is outfitted for the cold weather and rain in Puno.

Lago Titicaca

2006-03-12T16:36:00.000-08:00

Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world at an altitude of 12,580 feet.

Camaná

2006-03-11T16:15:00.000-08:00

Where's the gringo?7/03/06
Our first destination is Camaná, a small southern coastal city that used to have a thriving beach community until a tsunami hit a few years ago. The main city remained untouched.

We have a little adventure getting there, though, when the bus driver doesn't stop, and we have to get off at the cafe place about a half an hour past it, where the driver stops to switch shifts with the other driver who has been sleeping in the little hold in the bus, as well as give everyone a chance to use the bathrooms and get some food. We are told that there are local busses that come by pretty regularly, and the man at the cafe says he will help us watch for one, and even flag it down for us. Without his help we would have to ride all the way to Arequipa and then take a bus back and this time make sure the driver lets us off.

True to his word, a bus comes and he flags it down from the side of the road where he has been waiting for it, and we get on and get the last two empty seats. We're charged twice as much as he told us it costs, presumably because we're gringos. We're also obviously not in a position to bargain, particularly since we're already moving by the time the man comes to collect our money.

When we reach Camaná we set off to find the hostel that I've picked in Lonely Planet, only to discover that no one knows where it is. And when we try to call them to find out, none of the public phones seem to work. I enlist a passing stranger to help us, and she winds up spending probably 15 minutes with us, first trying to find a phone that actually works, and then finding a taxi and negotiating a price for us once we realize that where we want to go is Point Camaná, not the city proper.

We spend the first night in one of the few still inhabited spots out in the old Point Camaná, but it's too isolated and the main city draws us back in, it has such a good feel to it. The woman who went out of her way to help us was a preview to the openness we would encounter.

11/03/06
The people here are by and large easy going and friendly, and in typical Peruvian fashion, very curious and personable. One afternoon we are befriended by a group of children on the street. On another occasion we find ourselves in the plaza at the time of day when a handful of women gather to gossip and enjoy pork snacks which they are eager for us to try. And one of the juice ladies in the market takes a liking to us and has kind words and tells us to remember to come back to Camaná when we have our last juice from her before moving on.

We would each consider living here for a while if we were going to live in Perú, and are both a little reluctant to leave.

some other sights in central Lima

2006-03-05T21:04:00.000-08:00

When I was here with Dustin, we didn't explore Central Lima at all, so Drew and I stay here for 5 days.

Presidential Palace in Lima

2006-03-04T20:56:00.000-08:00

It's so strange as an EEUU to see the home of the president right here on the street, right across from the Plaza de Armas, but there it is. It's also just massive.

And there's one of the military guards waving at me from across the street...

back in Lima

2006-03-03T20:21:00.000-08:00

26/3/06
It's almost as if I'm starting my trip over. Drew will be here in a matter of days and then we will set off travelling for the 5 weeks he'll be here, sort of like my first six weeks with Dustin. We'll head south and then east, to round up north to Cuzco before coming back to Lima to fly home. It's like coming full circle ending this way so much like the beginning, but this time I'll be with my boyfriend and have just lived with a family and spoken Spanish all day every day for 5 weeks.

But before Drew gets here I get 3 more days of family time because I'm staying with la familia Garro Arana. And it is a good thing Janette said I'm like family now when she invited me, because I show up sick.

1/3/06
The Garro Aranas are so kind, and I've been sick this whole time. I even lost my voice for the last 2 days. And tonight I'm headed off to check into a hostel before I meet Drew at the airport.

3/3/06
Tonight we meet up with the Garro Arana's and all go out for dinner, which is really fun. And it's nice for me to be able to treat them after they made me feel so welcome in their home (and even as an invalid)... ,' -)

Huanchaco

2006-02-25T20:04:00.000-08:00

It's the final day of Carnaval, which is celebrated across South America, and I am in the little fishing city of Huanchaco where they celebrate every year with a parade.

My favorite thing that happens is when an older woman suddenly is standing with her arm around my side, posing for a picture. Then she kisses my cheek, smiles, and says she had to get a picture taken with a gringita (little gringa). Okay.

Trujillo

2006-02-22T20:00:00.000-08:00

Well, my homestay is over and I'll be on my own for a few days. And I realize that I've been in country for 11 weeks now.

I had forgotten how strange everything seemed to me at first, until another gringo at the hostel here in Trujillo comments on how many taxis there are and why do they honk so much and thinks it's something peculiar to this city, and I realize how acclimated I've become. I hardly even noticed the transition except for how quickly I got used to the traffic and how to navigate as a pedestrian...

And then I take a shower, and it's hot, and I realize that I haven't had a hot shower in literally 5 weeks, but hadn't thought about it in almost that long. And to think that it was once a daily concern.

Cristo ya viene

2006-02-21T19:38:00.000-08:00

Peruvians are confident that Christ is returning. They are faithful in general, and there are innumerable stickers in mototaxis, combis, and plastic houseware and food container products of the brand Rey (King) on the subject.

These include: Voy seguro porque voy con Cristo - Sal 121:8
Con Cristo a mi lad todo es posible
Yo [heart] Jesús
Amor, Paz, y Vida es Jesús
Jesús es mi Pastor nada me Faltará
Cristo vive
Busca la Paz en Dios
and they are not so different from what you might see in the States.

mi nueva familia peruana

2006-02-20T15:46:00.000-08:00

18/2
After a somewhat rocky start (except with Manolo), and an incident where I am told by two of the other gringas here that everyone hates me, including the family - I am leaving feeling closer to the family than the others, I'm sure.

Berta says how easy I am, and clean, how I don't smell like the other gringos do, and thanks me for coming when I thank her for accepting me. She tells me that this is my family here in Perú now, and agrees with Manolo having given me the new nickname of Cassandra Ramirez last night.

20/2
Juana tells me that she loves me when we say goodbye this morning. I'm surprised and truly touched. She is like a grandmother to me now.

nuestra despedida

2006-02-19T19:37:00.000-08:00

A despedida in this context is essentially a going away party, and Janette (she's wearing a red shirt and sitting with her little daughter on her lap) and I are both leaving in the next 2 days. So it is decided that this is our despedida and we must drink cerveza and go swimming with just the Evas (think Eve of the Garden of Eden): me, Janette, Perla (in the blue dress in the front), and Berta (a Ramirez sister, in the pink shirt standing in the middle). I find that I have been completely accepted.

And this was my bedroom for 4 weeks, though it's bigger than what you can see here...

exception

2006-02-14T15:45:00.000-08:00

On el Dìa de Amor (el dìa de San Valentin), the drink is sweet vino rosado and the vaso is passed to the left!!! This is the only time they pass to the left...

interesting little difference

2006-01-29T10:57:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure all countries have at least some universal customs. For instance, in the United States we pass everything to the left: doobies, drinks, snacks, etc, we deal cards to the left. Here in Perú, all those things are done to the right. Even the cards, which is the strangest for me. Is it a hemisphere thing? I've always thought that to the left makes perfect sense because it's clockwise, but perhaps it's more gravitational than I realized.

It's also customary in Perú to drink cervezas using one cup (un vaso) shared among the group. The bottle is opened and the vaso (which is about 3 1/2 or 4 inches in height and probably 2 1/2 inches in diameter) is filled about halfway, the person passes the bottle on, says salud, drinks the whole amount, pours out the foam in this special turn the vaso upside down in a circle way that I can't quite master (but I always pour mine slowly enough to avoid much foam [spuma] and drink so slowly on my turns that what little spuma there was has settled by the time I finish and there's nothing really to pour out - which is maybe why it never works when I try to do it), and passes it on, yes, to the right...

La Barranca

2006-01-27T13:51:00.000-08:00

La Barranca is not idyllic. The waterfront is a stretch of rocky slope beyond a valley of rocks and patches of vegetation coated white from having been underwater at some point.

But climb up and then back down the other side the slope of rocks and you find at the water's edge, a narrow sandy beach. The cold water current of the ocean is mixed with the warm water from the lagoon at the mouth of the river right here. I have never heard of a hot river, but the mouth of this one is certainly warm where it forms the laguna before feeding into the ocean.

Back away from the water, beyond the white encrusted rocks and growth, and cross a small sandy and rocky slope towards the main dirt road that loops the village. Cross the road and find two sets of circular benches that serve as something close to a plazeula, and the front row of houses, most of which are abandoned and dilapidated because there are only a few families that live here year round.

But as other families arrive, some of the houses get their yearly paint job.

This is our house, it is one of the biggest, and even it is primitive and in some disrepair, as Manolo puts it to me.

My days here are filled with reading, writing, a bit of sunbathing, and my cherished constant interruptions by the various women friends of the family, and local children. I get to develop relationships, fleeting as some of them may be, and practice Spanish in a real way, trying to communicate things about myself and my life and understand what is communicated to me of the same.

I am safe and well fed, with fresh ceviche made by Mama Juana with fish or small sharks that were just pulled out of the water by a local fisherman.

Guadalupe

2006-01-19T13:50:00.000-08:00

My homestay begins here.

Guadalupe, Provincio Pacasmayo, where the Ramirez family lives most of the year. They retreat to the primitive beach pueblo 30 minutes away, where they have a house, every February when it is just too hot in the city, and boy does it get hot. It's so hot here that it doesn't matter that there's no hot water - it comes out at the perfect temperature to cool you down without freezing you.

I find myself immediately struck by two things. The first being the heinous mosquitoes and sancudos (like little mosquitoes with smaller bites that are just as itchy), and what a culture of interdependence this is. This is my first real experience of what life is like and how people relate to each other, not tourists, here. Friendships are strong and lasting. Friends are friends of the family, and they anticipate and fulfil each others' needs. I find myself included in this community of friends and family immediately, with my own needs being often anticipated, and continuously met. I get up from my food and look around a little, a woman named Perla asks, ¿servilleta? and promptly not only gets me one, but also folds a number in the manner that is customary here, so there will be some on the table as usual. Or I need to go to the next town to use the cash machine because there isn't one here, and there is no question or hesitation that Perla will go with me to help me navigate taking a combi and finding the bank in this other little city. Or Patty takes me and one of the Ramirez sister's little boys to the pool even though she isn't going to swim and has no children of her own. A million little things like this make up the daily lives of the women here, especially. You're just not alone here, and it's really extraordinary. Everyone is looking out for each other, and anyone that might need it.

Also, I got to hang laundry on a rooftop for the first time today.

my first night alone in Perú

2006-01-17T13:46:00.000-08:00

17/1
I've been in Perú for almost six weeks now, and this is my first time alone.

Maria and Augustina left yestersay, Pilar, Belén, and Iñaki left this afternoon just before Dustin, and I notice as I walk the main stretch this evening for the umpteenth time since we got here nearly 2 weeks ago, that I am getting even more attention than usual. Did someone send a post that I'm alone, that I'm the only one left of our little impromptu group? Am I wearing it in my walk or on my face? Honks and you're very beautiful and stares. Oh man, I don't know how, but they know.

This is one of the pictures we took of ourselves last night after Dustin got orange Fanta to come out my nose. We were both a little giddy - I've never had anything come out my nose before so it was really a special occasion, that and it was the last night of our trip together.

some of our new friends

2006-01-16T20:12:00.000-08:00

Maria and Augustina at dessert before they go home to Argentina, with Eduardo (the Peruvian who helped Dustin with the police) smiling in the background.

Belén and, sadly, I don't remember these guys' names, as they showed up in the last few days before everyone went home. But it looks like we were having a nice time...

Siblings Iñaki, Belén, and Pilar with Dustin, the night before they all head home, to Argentina for them and Seattle for Dustin.

All of us, except Eduardo must be taking the pic. Behind and just to the right of Belén is Chris, a really nice guy from Switzerland.

Dustin gets arrested on the beach

2006-01-12T13:43:00.000-08:00

12/1
This evening Dustin is picked up on the beach by the plain-clothes police for smoking a tiny joint that was passed to him by our Chilean friend. He walks off in his swim trunks and no t-shirt or even flip flops. I immediately begin to feel very anxious - every travel resource says that it is very sketchy to be arrested in another country, especially for drugs. We have support, though, from our Argentinian friends as well as locals we don't even know. One of our Argentinian friends, Pilar, goes after him with a local, and then comes back to me a little while later and tells me that I need to go to the police station, that they are trying to detain him and maybe take him somewhere else. We go to Dustin's and my room where I find his wallet and grab S/300 (about 91 USD) for bribe money essentially. I have a feeling that the more they see, the more they'll demand, so I stash one S/50 bill in each side of my bikini top, two in the bottoms, and give two to Pilar to hold, and we head out.

We grab a mototaxi, my first ride in one - I hadn't thought it would be to the police station, and the guy who picked Dustin up won't let me see Dustin, but brings me into a separate room, makes me sit down, and proceeds to talk to me through Pilar (who had told me not to try to speak, to just act as though I don't know any Spanish), and it's very weird that they're both standing but I have to sit. It becomes clear that he thinks I was also smoking pot because I had been smoking a cigarette while he must have been watching us, waiting for the joint to pass from the South Americans to the gringo. So Pilar explains to him that I was smoking a cigarette only, and now he's saying that this is very serious, that they want to detain Dustin for 15 days and then maybe arrest him, it's a little unclear except that they mean business.

Finally they let me see Dustin, who had been trying to get them to let us talk so that he could tell me to go back to the hotel, that I didn't need to be involved, because he knew that they would try to scare me because they were making hollow threats to him about deporting him. And suddenly they just want S/100 and he's free this time, so I whip out the two 50's from my bikini bottoms. They call it a ticket, but they don't make any paperwork, they never even get his name. They just tell him that if they see him smoking again, there will be no getting out of it.

Dustin is in good spirits. He decides that he has paid the quarterly pot tax for the community, and learns how to say today is a good day because I'm not in jail, in Spanish, and later we celebrate. Por dios

Máncora

2006-01-07T13:40:00.000-08:00

The main tourist stretch of Máncora is on the Panamericana, and at night it is a carnival with fire dancers, jugglers, unicyclers, and mototaxis all barely navigating around each other, and suddenly a semi that barely slows down only honks.

We learned in the dangerous streets of Lima that no one is going to stop for you - you dodge and run, so it feels very tame here with most of the vehicles being mototaxis (vehicles with a motorcycle front and two wheels in the back behind a covered bench seat for fares), save the semidaily tour buses and semis.

Not too much cultural exposure since it's a vacation destination, but we get to know some Argentinians on vacation here and a handful of truly wonderful locals...

New Year's Eve in Cuzco's Plaza de Armas

2006-01-01T13:36:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve in the Plaza de Armas is a huge party that covers not only the plaza, but also all the walkway areas across the street on all sides, and around midnight the street all the way around even fills up as everyone starts running it. People everywhere are lighting firecrackers, roman candles, and sparklers, and are drinking everything from wine and champagne to beer, rum, and peach flavored liquor out of a box.

We only have two mishaps all evening really. The first is before midnight when a kid steals Ulli's camera out of her pocket. Fortunately she feels it happen and grabs and knocks it out of his hand, and Dustin sees the commotion and gets a hold of him. Even the people we don't know that are standing near us are ready to help keep this kid from getting away with her camera, which is nice, and he doesn't. The second thing is after midnight when some renegade sparks from a defective firecracker hit me in the foot and give me a good little burn.

All in all it is an excellent night. ¡Feliz Año Nuevo!

hydrospeeding

2005-12-28T13:28:00.000-08:00

28/12/05
Hydrospeeding is something done similarly to river rafting only you're actually in the water with your arms hooked into something only slightly more substantial than a boogie board, and Dustin, Jürg, and I decided that we would do it today.

It's ridiculous! We get up really early and take a long bus ride to the point in the river where we're going to get in, to find ourselves in the rain in shoddy wetsuits with holes in them, the wrong kind of booties, and with flippers tied onto our feet with vinyl straps. If only I had my camera! And my helmet is too big, so even though our guide gives us a talk about watching him to see where the safest path is through the rocks and rapids at different points in the river, I can't really see - unless I lift my head way up, which gets me slammed in the face with every standing wave the current crashes me through. And to think I had been most concerned about crashing into rocks. I imagine it's more fun somewhere warm and with proper gear or maybe even drysuits... I feel like a really stupid gringa.

Cuzco

2005-12-27T13:19:00.000-08:00

25/12
Christmas in Cuzco is all about the Christmas Eve shopping festival, Santuranticuy, where hundreds of families come from I don't-know-where and set up on blankets their wares of alpaca goods, jewelry, trinkets, and Jesús statues in the Plaza de Armas, stay past the last bus, and "camp" en masse across the street from the plaza in the covered space in front of the shops on one side. It's pretty wild. After the parents packed up their goods for sale and most had settled in their blankets where they would spend the night, their children were running around lighting firecrackers, and after they left this morning, there was so much trash in the street around the plaza.

Children sell cigarettes, finger puppets, postcards, and paintings, and shine shoes in the tourist area here, Arequipa, and the other tourist cities, I'm sure. Some speak a little English and have a trick where they ask where you are from and if it's the US, they name the capital of your state and then give a little run down of some of the US presidents. Others just ask for money straight out, and it all brings up so many issues that I almost shut down.

27/12
It's interesting to be in a place where sometimes there just isn't any running water in the city because the plumbing gets turned off for cleaning after a heavy rain or just stops working.

Cañón de Colca

2005-12-22T13:09:00.000-08:00

Colca Canyon is the second deepest canyon in the world, a little bit deeper than Grand Canyon.

21/12
We're on the bus to the village where we'll begin our trek and I just dreamed that I was homesick. There isn't the tiniest bit of me that would rather be at home, but there are ways in which I'm homesick, I guess. I miss not having to run to sit on the toilet 12 times a day and not having intense stomache cramps every 15 minutes. I miss real coffee and cigarettes and melted cheddar cheese. I miss autonomy and privacy, and cold water out of my fridge. But these things are not enough to make me wish I were home, these are just the little things I think about sometimes when I feel overwhelmed.

We have lunch in the village before we set off, and it is not long after we start walking that I begin to feel the effects of having had moderate to severe diarrhea for the last 12 days, plus the two bouts of fever (the second of which was yesterday). My legs literally feel as though they might give out on me as we begin our descent, which is not made any better by the loose rocks and dirt on the steep trail. And I'm behind everybody and Dustin realizes that I'm in bad shape and takes most of the stuff I'm carrying. And then the trail gets even steeper and I slow down again and our guide who calls me princess as a term of endearment gives me his hand to steady me for the rest of the way down. And then it begins to rain and we cross a bridge over a river at the bottom, and begin to walk back up. We walk for another hour or so and reach our home for the night which has no electricity, just as darkness falls. We take turns taking 3 minute showers so that it might be hot for the last person (I'm last, and it's almost hot, thank god) and then have dinner and go to sleep exhausted.

22/12
So I'm to ride a mule today rather than walk again, and I'm very glad to hear this, as my knees feel like they're on inside out and backwards, on top of everything else. I imagine that the mule will be hot, smelly, and attract flies, and I want to hug and kiss it for bearing me as its burden. The others start off 10 or 15 minutes before my mule arrives, and then we set off. It's very wobbly, and the mule walks so close to the edge of this rocky, windy, trail back up the canyon. I have to hold on to the back of the saddle on the downward curves, the front going up, and my breakfast on the many precarious turns, plus the feeling that I might just bounce off on the occasional half hop down larger rocks, but as an alternative to walking and with all my stuff this time, this is a dream. And it isn't hot or smelly, and even with the saddle being very hard and somewhat ill-fitting, and not having reins for control, it's still a relief I wouldn't have been able to imagine.

I'm just sorry that I'm turning out to be such a terrible travelling companion for my brother and the things he wants to do.

to Nazca

2005-12-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

16/12
The bus stops just long enough to let a couple of passengers off. This is one of many little villages along the road, and two children come running happily enough with their little bags of fruit or nuts or whatever it is they have to sell. Children selling goods on the street breaks my heart a little bit each time I see it. And then we pass thirty or so thatch shacks about 6x6. Do people live in those?

We get off the bus in Nazca and are immediately surrounded by people telling us to go to this place or that one and take this taxi or that one and it's only this much for a flight up to look down at the the lines and don't trust them, they're lying, and it's just too much. But we decide on a place that Ulli had picked from her travel book and are going to walk there because I am sketched out by this whole circus, but then we decide to take a free taxi there but keep our eyes open to make sure we're being taken where we want to go.

17/12
We get up early to catch our flight over the lines. I find myself more intrigued by the other lines in the earth that look like water lines. It's another interesting experience I never thought I'd have.

Huacachina

2005-12-16T13:26:00.000-08:00

12/12/05
I get my Yellow Fever vaccine in Lima in the afternoon before we head to Huacachina in the evening, and by the time we reach Ica I'm fairly sick. So I spend the first 2 days in Huacachina sick on and off both from the jab and from the food every time I eat, but no more than is to be expected when travelling, I guess. Sicky sick.

13/12/15
We had arrived late the night before and are having lunch out at a restaurant by the lagoon in the oasis our first afternoon when Dustin notices a cute girl alone and invites her to join us at our table, which to my surprise she accepts. She turns out to be a very funny and charming German named Ulli, 26 years old, who grew up in East Germany til the walls came down when she was 11. She's on month 3 of a 6 month trip through Central and South Americas and has just arrived in Huacachina this afternoon. I'm still rather sick and opt to go back to the room after lunch, but they decide to hike up the dunes to sandboard back down, and when they come back, Ulli has exported a remarkable amount of sand not only in her shoes, but the most truly impressive amount is in her bikini bottoms (especially since she was wearing pants)! Dustin and I are both fast friends with Ulli, and spend much of the next few days with her, together and separately.

We go to a barbeque at the hostel where Ulli is staying, which is rather a party hostel, and after eating and drinking a few beers for them and a pisco sour for me (Dustin and I are becoming convinced that the pisco kills bacteria particular to here since it is a Peruvian alcohol), we hike up the dunes and then just lie around looking at the moon, stars, and clouds, and it's truly an extraordinary sight over the dunes and the oasis. Ica is off in the other direction, and we can see all of it from the top here, but it's not a pretty sight, so I focus on the sky and the clouds over the dunes. After spending probably an hour up there we bound down. You can jump high and far and it's really fun and only a little scary...

14/12/05
There are so many nice people everywhere. Fellow travellers as well as locals who work at the hostels. And so many different accents since most of the fellow travellers speak English (which is remarkable and truly humiliating that 'Americans' only speak English): Germans, Dutch, Swiss, Danish, English, Brits, Canadians, Australians (well the last four speak English in their own countries anyway, but the accents are still soo very different)...

Dustin starts staying out til morning and then sleeping late, and I'm finally beginning to feel better today, so I spend the day by (and in) the pool at our hotel and chat on and off with a nice couple from Holland, a really cool girl from England, and one of the guys who works at the hotel who is really friendly. It's really nice for me to be able to move at my own pace, and do or not do whatever I want according to how I feel, and that's all. And it's wonderful to get some sun!

In the afternoon we go on a dune buggy tour both for the ride (which is literally like a roller coaster only scarier because you actually could fall out or the buggy could flip over, etc) and sandboarding. I go down one little (but steep) dune snowboard style, but without any preparation, and decide I don't really care to do it that way, but rather, more like a sled - I've heard you go faster that way, anyway, so it's on my bum from now on. The first time is quite fun, and yes, fast. Then we get back in the buggies to move on to bigger dunes. This time I don't have as much luck, and get turned, flip over a few times, hit my head really hard, and get a mouthful of sand. And then almost get run over. I decide I've had enough fun, and wonder why I thought this was a good idea or that I would be any good at it all (ie, able to do it)... Oh well, it's almost fun, and Dustin and Ulli have a great time, so that's good.

Later my body hurts like I was in a car accident, but at least I can say I've done it.

15/12/05
Dustin is sick now, but I'm better. He points out that it's good that we take turns.

16/12/05
Today we leave for Nazca. We've picked up Ulli as a travelling companion to Arequipa, so we're heading there with her on the way. And a Swiss (German) guy named Jürg who's also heading to Nazca and then onto Arequipa, joins us in waiting for Dustin and having lunch first, and then going rather than heading straight out by himself. So, now we are 4, and it just makes it that much more fun!

Barranco

2005-12-10T13:08:00.000-08:00

9/12/05
It's still our third day in Lima, but now we're moving on to Barranco from Miraflores, to a hostel called Point Lodge (or simply the Point) owned and run by an ex-pat backpacker from Israel. We dump our stuff in our room and head out to dinner. Once again it's on the late side, so not everything is open. We choose an Italian restaurant that we were told is good but pricey. We order a half jarra of sangría and some caprese and settle in to figure out the menu which proves quite difficult as all the dishes are their Italian names then described in Spanish, of course. We take so long trying to decipher all the different dishes that by the time we're almost ready to order, the table of people who came in at the same time as we did have eaten and are paying.

Onward and upward after a filling meal of ravioli di langostinos and very delicious sangría. Now it's time to check out the so-dubbed tempting Peruvian desserts at another place. My, those desserts are tempting. So much so that when I lean down to check one out in particular, I forget about the window in between us and the case of desserts, and bonk my noggin good on the glass. Now I'm too embarassed to go in because some of the diners in there saw me do it. LOL. We cross the street in order to come back from the other side in hopes that we can pretend to be different people, but it doesn't really work, and a couple of guys in there laugh good naturedly at me when we go in. Honestly I've pretty well lost my appetite for dessert, but Dustin is so tempted...

Back to the hostel. We opt not to go on the Friday night pub crawl when the bar at the hostel closes at 1am, but wind up being talked into going out with a couple of drunk Australians because it's one of the guys' birthday. So we set out with them and a Danish girl to a bar called Bierhaus. On the way over, the birthday boy tells us about a phone service is Australia called 123 that you can call and get the answers to anything a person could think to ask. Dustin thinks they just Google whatever you ask them, and this sets us off on a funny conversation about Google, in which the Australian decides that NASA has been Googling since the 80s.

At Bierhaus. The music is an odd mix of Spanish language songs and bad US Pop and Top 40, but I still get my groove on and wind up getting an impromptu and informal dance lesson from a local woman who doesn't seem to notice or mind that my hands are sweaty while she's leading me through the spins and moves of what seems like a cross between Salsa and the Jitterbug or French Rock.

Now it's about 5am and the two local women we've befriended decide that we must go to an underground bar that is disappointingly not underground in the sense I thought, but simply below ground level, and is also back in Miraflores. The other Australian gets a beer thrown on him by a local girl in the bar who has decided that he's loco, and retaliates with his own beer and gets kicked out. We want to leave anyway, so we all go then, but wind up out for breakfast instead of back to the hostel to sleep. There's no breakfast around at 6am, so we wind up at a nasty sandwich place where Dustin orders a burger with egg, chicken, and the grossest looking sausage patty (even for chorizo) I've ever seen, in addition to the beef for the birthday boy, who eats it after taking the pink sausage off. Then we pile into another cab, and are finally off to bed.

But first I check my email back at the hostel because it's free, and learn that Evergreen has cancelled the Perú trip program aspect of my class, and the 10 of us who will be travelling have to switch to Independent Contracts just because we didn't meet the 15 person enrollment minimum. Por dios.

adventures

2005-12-09T13:07:00.000-08:00

9/12/05
We lunch in a little cafe where first we are served chicken noodle soup despite Dustin saying repeatedly no pollo and the main dish is very like beef stroganoff on french fries. Mmm. LOL. I eat the beef off the fries, and the rice on the side, and chewing the beef is like a workout for my mouth. But this is simply while we wait for the wind...

Paragliding today over the edge of Lima at seaside I find myself in a seated harness, stepping off a cliff and catching an updraft off the Pacific Ocean. We float up 20, 30, 40, 50 feet. The cliffs are probably 250 feet above the ocean, and we are rising to the height of the 10 and 12 story buildings. At one point it feels like we are going to bump into the top floor, and then we are looking down on the rooftop patios and I can see more of the city than I have seen so far, but still essentially just Miraflores - Lima is big. It is so strange to be suspended 50 feet above a 12 story building that I almost think I'm just watching footage taken from a helicoptor. But no, I really am seated below a parachute with a pilot harnessed behind me determining our course. My brother and I are each flying tandem, at the same time. I can see him over there, and now we are passing each other waving. I expected it to be a little higher adrenaline, but instead it is almost unsettling peaceful. Should I be feeling something more, I wonder. No, I feel moved enough. Losing altitude to make our way down to land is the scariest part, circling and spinning, really feeling the strength of the wind. Dustin and his pilot land in the meantime, and by the time we touch down I've forgotten how to stand, and instead land sitting exactly the way I was in the air. I'm a little embarassed and have hit my elbow on the ground or my pilot's shoe, I'm not sure. Oh well, I flew above the coast of a city in another country, on another continent. (In the picture you can see the long pier that was below us to the left of where we jumped off.)

Now it's time for errands, and we make our way back to the main stretch to find an extended life battery for Dustin's video camera for the trek to Machu Picchu. We find the right battery, and are sure it will fit the camera - unlike the extended battery Dustin was sold in the States - because the guys in the store are nice enough to cut open the package for us. Then when we go to pay and find that their credit card system is down, and wait for probably half an hour while they sort it out in a kind of chaos. But I feel empowered by the fact that I keep speaking for Dustin, explaining what he wants or is trying to say, or translating to him what's going on. It's somehow much easier to try to speak in these circumstances than for my own thoughts and needs. On to look for a USB cable to dump the huge picture files Dustin has been taking on his digital camera onto his video iPod. We are in a department store, and on the way out I tell Dustin that I'd like to stop and look at some pareos I saw on the way in.

I look at them, pick a couple I might like, find a mirror to see how the colors would look, no go. Where is Dustin. I look upstairs for him because when I went one way off the escalator, he went another. He's not upstairs so I head back downstairs to see if he's waiting for me where I was. He isn't. He isn't anywhere to be seen. I step outside to smoke a cigarette and wait. Still no sign of him so I go back in and look for him again. I go through this same process a few times before I finally enlist help from the nice looking man in security at the door. I'm staying put because I know that he would never expect me to leave, because he thinks I'm totally incapable of going anywhere by myself. This is a funny adventure, and a good opportunity to practice my Spanish. But now it's been 45 minutes since I last saw him, and even though security is looking for him, he's nowhere to be found. Okay, now it's been over an hour so I'm going to go to the internet cafe we've been frequenting that is on the corner right across the street from the hotel where we had been staying. But I don't have any money.

Okay, I have 20 dollars US, I just need someone here at the department store to change it for me because it's after 5pm and I imagine the banks are like they are in the States. But they will only change 10 dollars to soles, and I only have a 20 dollar bill, and nobody seems to have both two tens and the right change in soles to give me 33.50. Thank god a woman who works there and speaks English is helping me and advocating for me because someone is trying to say now that I have to buy something to get money changed. I can understand the woman helping me telling the other woman that I'm lost, I've lost my brother, they can make a special exception for me. It's becoming difficult to keep my cool and not cry, hearing these words. Don't cry. That's okay, a couple of calm tears I can just wipe away as they come, but don't cry. Okay, I'm now the proud owner of a 10 dollar bill US and 33.50 in soles and I'm off. Thank you thank you, nice lady, and gracias para su ayuda to the security man. Good thing we've done so much walking around to and from the hotel these last two days because I'm on my own now and I can't look lost. And I can't cry yet.

I thought I knew exactly where I was, I should have walked through both parks. I'll just loop around this block and go back to the park and I'll know how to get to the hotel and internet cafe. It's rush hour and it's muggy and I'm walking fast to get this ordeal over with. Back to the park, trust your memory. Okay, this is the right street. There's the internet cafe, but I'll check the hotel first and ask ¿fue mi hermano aqui? Oops, almost run over, and I hear Dustin call my name. He's in the internet cafe. I cross back, and he pinches me - hard, I think, because it hurts a lot and now I'm crying. It really hurt and triggered a release and I don't have to keep my cool anymore because we're back together.

But he seems upset with me, he thinks I went off alone. Don't ever do that again, like I'm a baby, a little girl who can't manage. But I worked so hard to stay put, even though I could have easily come back here at any time, just because I know that's what he thinks. I guess I allow him to think of me as a little girl, and now I'm crying. And I don't want to hug. I've been through an ordeal and I did the right thing and it still came out wrong. Okay, I'm sorry I pinched you and I should have looked harder for you and it's my fault. Okay, let's do some internet...

ps, it was only a baby pinch that happened to hurt a lot because it was on the inside on my arm...

Lima

2005-12-07T13:04:00.000-08:00

07/12/05
Dustin and I both needed to recover from very little sleep on Monday and 12 hours of travelling on Tuesday, so we sleep until 4.30 local time. Dustin heads out to buy us a Lonely Planet Peru, and I get ready. We have lunch at a Hare Krishna restaurant where Dustin orders ceviche again only to discover that it is made with wheat gluten! The rest of the food is good, though. We look through the Lonely Planet when we get back to the hotel, and begin to map out what we want to do and where we want to go in these 5 weeks, and it begins to feel like not enough time. We want to go paragliding tomorrow and see more of Lima and check out Barranco. We want to do sandboarding on the dunes in the south, see the Nazca lines, go to the jungle, and have four days in Cuzco all before our Machu Picchu trek on the 29th. Then back up north to the coast, and no time for the highlands.

For dinner we go back to calle de las pizzas and actually have pizza this time (which is terrible) and cerveza para Dustin y sangria para mí (yummy). We walk around Miraflores for a couple of hours. I struggle to get help at the ice cream place, and almost forget to give up my knife at the casino we walk into and directly back out of. We wanted to see if it's a locals or tourist phenomenon, but it's too smoky for Dustin, and it's not like I wanted to play anything, so...

travel day

2005-12-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

I just accidentally erased an hour's work and there isn't a fucking Undo option, so this isn't going to be as good as the original...

Setting: 5/12/05 - I was 12 hours late leaving home for Seattle the day before my flight to Lima, and didn't get to my parents' until around 1am. My mom had left at 9pm to go to Costa Rica (where they're moving in January), and my dad was waiting up for me even though he'd probably been up since 7am and would have to be up early again to get the residents (foster care boys) off to school. I got a 4am shuttle after an hour nap, and would meet Dustin at the gate. -

6/12/05
Our flight is in an hour, and Dustin isn't here yet so I take out my iPod mini to pass the time, only to discover that it was completely erased somehow yesterday. I cry a little and then get over it. My antisocial tendencies had been given something pleasant and fairly socially acceptable to turn to since I got the mini for my birthday, and frankly I've been a little weird with it, so it's just as well that I won't have it on this trip. This way I won't be distanced from my surroundings.

The flight to Dallas is fairly peaceful, with most of the passengers either sleeping or reading to themselves, and there is room to stretch out a bit. Dustin and I both sleep. We have about a half hour at the dallas airport, and have surprisingly good beef brisket sandwiches in our terminal. Texas is good for some things, I guess. There's also a Ben and Jerry's, and even though there's only ten minutes left to board, I can't resist the temptation to get ice cream. So I board with a waffle cone and a stupid grin from sleep dep. There are Peruvian faces staring at me as I stand passively waiting for everyone to stuff their bags into the overhead compartments. Two people are trying to pass back the other way, and my daypack on my back doesn't help. I get stuck behind the armrest of some man's seat and practically wind up in his lap as they pass, largely because the woman has a huge ass. Finally it's clear to my row when out of nowhere a woman charges me and I have to back up two rows or who knows what would have happened. I get to my seat (center, fun) with my ice cream and goofy face, but the fun has just begun.

We're not actually in our seats, but in the same seats across the aisle because some old couple is in ours and we figure they're just on the wrong side. But there is mayhem and it begins to seem as though everyone just sits wherever they want. A woman boards at the last minute after there has already been confusion and chaos with people in each others' seats. And lo and behold, she's sitting in someone else's seat because we're sitting in hers. Now she's accusing us of knowing we're in her seat and not saying anything even though she has a small child with her (who seems to have just apparated). Really bitchy so we defend ourselves as we get up. But it's time to take off and the scene has escalated, so instead of displacing the couple in our seat, we're sent to two empty ones that aren't even together for the 6 hour flight.

This plane is much older, smaller, and more crowded than the one to Dallas, and my new aisle seat happens to have a smaller foot area under the seat in front of me in which my pack doesn't quite fit. Every hour that passes feels like work since it is so hard to sleep in this cramped seat. I watch half of October Sky, sleep when I can, drink lots of orange juice, and eat a nasty lunch that I take just for the chocolate cake type thing with it.

We finally arrive, make it through immigration and customs without a hitch - we both get lucky, each getting a green light from the random generator at customs. My fleece pants and performance long underwear shirt are now quite inappropriate to the weather as we try to figure out if we shoud trust this woman trying so hard to get us to come to the free tourist info counter. What did the books say about who to trust at the airport?? We go with her and get reservations at a mid-range hotel in Miraflores and get a cab, knowing they're overcharging us, but aren't going to take us somewhere to rob us...

Lanes on the road are taken more as suggestions for use at the drivers' convenience than anything else, as are red lights at some intersections. Drivers use their horns or flash their lights at intersections to warn pedestrians and other drivers. I've heard that the US is one of the only places in the world where people abide by the traffic laws the way we do, but this is my first time off norteamerica, so it's a trip for me. We check into our hotel, Dustin washes his stinky pits, I change out of my hot clothes, and we head out for dinner.

Our options are somewhat limited by the fact that it is about 11pm (8 relative time), so we go to what the locals call calle de las pizzas. This is literally about a dozen restaurants all boasting pizza and having outdoor seating on a little avenue with half on either side. There are hawkers just outside the patio of every restaurant tauting the menu items and free beer or pisco sours (a local blended drink with lime and a liquor that is like a cross between rum and tequila, that they compare to vodka). We choose the "Mexican" restaurant but wind up ordering Peruvian food. It is an interesting challenge communicating with our waitress in order to ascertain the details of several menu items. Dustin loves ceviche and orders it for us to start. I discover that I really like it, too, and have chaufa mariscos for dinner, which is like paella only better. What fun.

-As an addendum, I soon learned that chaufa is actually fried rice (even the next day at the same restaurant), and if you want anything like paella you have to order arroz con mariscos which is consistently delicious...

not so hasty anymore

2005-11-28T12:59:00.000-08:00

28/11/05

2 months ago I was overprepared for my then slowly approaching trip, and now I'm leaving for South America in 8 days and feel like I've been asleep. I didn't even have a passport before this trip was conceived, and now I will be travelling for 4 months.

The strangest part of going somewhere distant for the first time is only being able to picture myself there by mentally doctoring images I've seen or descriptions I've read: brain-shopping myself in, if you will. I've been looking at these altered images in my mind's eye for so many months now, I've almost forgotten the feeling of separateness I first had at this strange prospect.

I think I've come close to confusing myself into thinking I've already been on my trip, by watching the movie. I've been looking at the rolls of myself in my imagined Perú since Spring, and now I need to buy travellers checks. I don't use travellers checks in my vision, so this need doesn't sink in. Will I actually have to think about something as mundane as access to money when I'm *really* there?

When I first started this process, the best way for me to feel connected with the coming experience was to prepare and plan. Looking at it now I see that the excitement started at some point to just live in me, and now we're getting pretty well broken into each other - even to the point where I can be consumed by other things.

Now I'm looking forward to the jolt of actually finding myself en sudamerica. To actually seeing the trees, skies, and peoples with my own eyeballs, through my own framing. Unchanged by someone else's filter, or the Cebella that hasn't been offcontinent yet. To actually having to understand and communicate in Spanish beyond talking about coffee and kisses.

I don't want to trap in a name what I may encounter, uncover, become, bury, or unlearn in my travels but for gaining fluency. And when it comes down to leaving right now, I don't really feel prepared, but I feel ready.