Peru Updates

Peru Update 1 – sent August 30, 2008
So the journey starts in Lima, Peru. I realized the taxi driver and I didn´t understand each other when we had the following exchange:

He motions for me to get down.
I don´t.
He motions towards the empty seat next to me.
I notice it´s really congested and we aren´t moving anywhere, so I think he´s indicating he´s not able to get in the High Occupancy Vehicle lane because he only has one passenger. "Oh, yeah, I guess we could have picked up another person. It probably would be less congested if we could be in the High Occupancy lane."
"Bandito, bandito, bandito, muy danger..."
I then realize he wants me to move my bag off the empty seat and hide it on the floor of the car.
I guess that was the sketchy part of town.
I wish I knew Spanish.

The hostel is in Central Lima. It´s swank. Chandeliers, fake marble statues, swank. I am staying in some hut on the roof. The wooden door is two feet wide and five feet tall and locked by a small padlock on the outside. I am not sure how I am going to be able to lock it from the inside though.

Peru Update 2 – sent August 31, 2008
Today, I woke up at six and decided to walk to the Pacific coast. It ended up being six miles and taking forever. Along the way, I crashed the synchronized warm up session for a 10-K (They coordinated their stretching en masse to techno, of course.) and some Catholic school girl parade.
While taking a cab back to Central Lima, the driver asked "¿Donde Estas?" I reply, "Estados Unidos." He lifts his hands in the air and yells, "Obama High Five!" We later bonded while whistling the hook to "Walk Like an Egyptian."

I am now in Cusco, which is absolutely beautiful. It´s in the Andes and full of winding cobblestone streets and steep stairways. I believe the previous statement is the equivalent of someone coming to America and saying "God, I just love Branson. It´s so clean and lovely."

Peru Update 3 – sent September 2, 2008
back to monday. sorry, but the caps doesn´t work on this computer.

i wrote thirty postcards and awoke early to mail them off, only to discover postage is two dollars a card, so yeah, if i promised you a card, it will be mailed from nyc.

i then headed back to the city center at the plaza de armas where a young boy percy approached me selling postcards. below are excerpts from the interaction, think back to 7th grade spanish class.

postales?
no, yo tengo trente postales y cero tarjetas. wtf?
como te llamo... yo tengo tres hermanos y tu... soy de estados unidos... escuela... me gusto matematicas... stuff like that

then i notice a gathering of citizens, banners and chanting.

que es?
protesta. gasolina protesta.
peligroso?
he shrugs.
want to check it out?

so percy, the thirteen year old kid selling postcards and i watch the gasoline protests for a while. he wanted my email address, so i gave him a business card. hell, who knows, maybe his postcard business will take off and he’ll need an auditor when he ipos.

later in the afternoon, i am standing on the street waiting for the tram. it never comes. a man approaches me asking if i want to take a tour of some ruins around cusco. the bus leaves in ten minutes. i get on the bus.

i meet evadio, not sure about the spelling. he´s creepy creepster and after the tour asks me to a "nice dinner." recalling he has a weak digestive system and aversion to health code violations, i inform him i only eat guinea pig at street meat vendors and proceed to enter said shop. unfortunately, i discover they have no vegetarian options, so i have to awkwardly hang out at the sketch establishment for ten minutes to make sure the coast is clear before heading back out.

they are playing the high school musical soundtrack at this internet cafe.

Peru Update 4 – sent September 4, 2008
I know I am behind but Tuesday.

Last Thursday, yes, two days before I leave for Peru, I book the one-day tour to see Machu Picchu because all the do-it-yourself train tickets were sold out. I don't know if they were sold out since I cannot read Spanish websites, but it wasn't processing my order.

Friday, the tour company calls because they cannot process my tour order without my passport number. I call back. No one answers. I fax it to them (not sure if that's safe). I call them Saturday and give them my passport number and ask where the meeting place for the excursion is. They tell me to call back. I call back Sunday and Monday, and they tell me they will pick me up at the hotel at 5:30 a.m.

It's cold in Peru in September. It's cold at 5:30 a.m. I wait. I wait. I wait with taxi drivers who, sensing my frustration, begin to teach me curse words in Spanish to use when the tour guide arrives. At 6:30 a.m. I realize I will not be able to make the 6:50 a.m. train to Aguas Calientes to see the Machu Picchu, which is the last train you can take if you want to return the same day and is my last chance since I am leaving Peru the next day.

The lady at the hotel calls the tour company and using her secret, magic language tells them to come pick me up. I make it to the Machu Picchu.

It's glorious and neither words nor pictures can explain it.

While there, the Americans keep asking me if I am from Japan. Damn Americans. Consequently, I join a group of unemployed Europeans for hiking in the Andes. One Frenchman was a plastic surgeon, specializing in breast augmentation; the others were all unemployed and just traveling the world for a year. Europeans.

Peru Update 5 – sent September 4, 2008
Alright, alright. Here are the pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2245636&l=31e8c&id=9604415

Thank you to anyone who read them. Thanks for being such great, supportive friends.