familiar faces

Friends from the States arrived in Lima last night. Carlos and I meet them at their hotel at midnight, toured their apartment for a room, had a drink, and parted at 2. Already we're adjusting them to the party schedule in Perú.

house

I can't wait for Carlos to arrive.

We bought the first and second seasons of House, M.D. and are addicted to watching it. I suppose I could watch it without him, but that wouldn't be very nice. Then again, Carlos has always claimed that I'm not very nice to him; so I could use this opportunity to prove him right. He would like being right. Right?

that way

Trying to obtain precise directions in Lima is to feel like blood is spurting from your eyes and ears. The only fruit pluckable from such an exercise is ripe vexation.

One day, Carlos asked a man where the bus stop was. The unhelpful man motioned behind him, said "that way," and took off. I thought, What the fuck! The entire fucking city of Lima is fucking "that way." Grrr...

week of loss

My phone was stolen.

My sunglasses fell and broke when I launched a surprise hug attack against a boy in Carabayllo.

My silver earring in the shape of a turtle probably washed down the drain in the shower.

Losing my earring reminded me how, years ago, I had lost the other turtle in the pair. Even as I endeavored to sever hopeless attachments, old associations surfaced like churned sedimentary rocks.

That can be nice, like looking at photographs, the ghosts of a finite instant.

Time, faithfully flowing forward, will carry more important things and people away from me in its current. Floating toward and away from each other at differentiated rates, we live in a perpetual progress of loss, losing each other and inevitably ourselves, though, all in our own good time.

happy hanukkah

Evidence of the Diaspora in Lima.

thousand cranes

There was a Christmas party for the children in Carabayllo and I was invited to help and participate.

There were activities like crafts and face painting, and there was entertainment in the form of two clowns, one Barney the Dinosaur, and one tripped-out Mickey Mouse.

I taught origami to 20 or 30 kids, of all ages and skill levels. Just when I was halfway through a lesson, two or three kids would show up late and ask to be taught. And just as I got them caught up, a few more stragglers would show up and beg to be taught, too. For four hours, I demonstrated how to make paper cranes and couldn't move on to anything else.

For the first time, I truly appreciated Carlos's challenge to teach these kids. And, for the last time will I make anymore paper cranes.

ají relleno de quinoa

I made these.

They are ají stuffed with quinoa. Ají with their seeds and veins can kill you; without, they are mild and sweet. Quinoa is an ancient grain more potent in protein than tofu; in this context, they have the texture of steamed cuttlefish eggs.

It took me 1.5 hours to unseed and devein 16 of these suckers and 15 minutes to stuff them. (Therein lies the reason the rounder, apple-shaped rocoto is more popular for stuffing.)

here's my phone, take my money, too

The morning after my phone was stolen, I went to the police station to file a report. The policeman took my information, but before the report could be official, I would need to go to the Banco de la Nación and purchase a voucher of sorts. (I guess if you can't punish the thief, might as well fine the victim for being careless.)

I finally found a branch and there were two lines that stretched out the door. I estimated a 2-hour wait to purchase something that I will then need to bring back to the police station in order to claim that I've been robbed, officially. Needless to say, I didn't wait. I decided there was no hurry and could return another day since the police didn't seem to be in a rush to find my phone either.

revolutionaries

Carlos and I attempted to go to a lecture at the National Library.

There was a coloquio on Victor Humareda, an influential artist who shaped modern Peruvian painting by veering from and changing its historical direction. It has been 20 years since his death and the National Library organized an exhibit of his paintings and drawings, photo portraits by various photographers, and panel discussions on Humareda's œuvre and impact.

We arrived early to tour the exhibit and seated ourselves in the auditorium a few minutes before 19:00, when the discussion was scheduled to begin.

Five minutes past, the auditorium was still mostly empty and the stage and guest chairs were completely vacant. Ten minutes later, 15, 20, 25, nothing, not even an announcement. Finally at 19:30, the auditorium now mostly full but still no guests, we inquired when the talk would begin. The usher said "in five minutes." We left. We didn't arrive in Peru yesterday and recognized the hackneyed euphemism.

I was surprised that no one else seemed angry, or at least a little bit annoyed. I wished that the audience members were wise to value their time and demand better for themselves. But then that would require them to be revolutionaries, too.

purloined phone

I was rushed, my guard was down, the bus was crowded. Someone reached into my bag and took my phone. I am angry not only because the thief violated my personal space, but took something that he did not earn.

Moreover, my phone has a security lock on it. If he ever turns it off and on again, he will not be able to use it without the password. Pyrrhic victory for me, but I am not satisfied.

mini shake

Another earthquake. Just before 17:00. This one lasted under 10 seconds. It's amazing how loud these things are.

industrious idling

After an activity-filled week, Carlos and I wanted to take it easy on Sunday.

We woke up at 9. A friend came over and I taught Carlos and our friend yoga on the roof of my apartment. Afterward, we brunched at a yummy cevicheria, desserted on creamy gelato, walked to the beach, chatted with friends who had just finished surfing, watched Volver, snuck in to see the last, terrible, 30 minutes of Happy Feet, and ate tamales and fruit for dinner with wine.

Even though we had fun, it still felt like hard work.

no woman no cry

A.K.A. "No Yoga No Cat." Yoga was canceled. The nice lady who lets us use her house was not available today. So, no yoga and, therefore, no Silvester.

caral

We took a day trip to Caral, "La Civilización Más Antigua de América." It is located about 115 miles north of Lima, situated 15 miles inland from the desert coast of Perú, in a valley of barren mountains.

Settled about 5,000 years ago, Caral's pyramids and mummies are contemporary with those in Egypt. According to our guide, researchers believe the city was meticulously planned (versus organically blossomed), which suggests a ritual function. (Think New York City and Washington, D.C. New York happened because people came. Washington, D.C. was deliberately architected to fulfill a specific function.) The inhabitants of Caral performed many ceremonies as well as traded with neighbors from the coast and jungle.

Being on the site and imaging specters walking to and fro, trading, aching, and laughing was surreal. Aside from the idea of something impressive, the sight of monochromatic dirt, rock, and sky did not fill me with cheer.

sounds of summer

I am frequently reminded that summer is fast approaching by the din of ducks dying the most horrible death imaginable.

Mind you, I'm not talking about their actual demise, but the sound of moribund mallards. If one were to deconstruct the cacaphony, the individual parts would incorporate aspects of quack, whack, beep, yack, and mack.

It turns out that mallards are not being maltreated. It is the whistle of the ice cream man. Go figure. It almost makes me want to sponsor a contest with the challenge to list one reason why the dying duck whistle is a good business strategy. Just one reason. One.

p d a

I encountered a large park today. Ample quantities of green grass and benches encircled a gigantic, gaudy memorial to "Confraternity" and "Victory."

Even more torturous to the senses was the throng of lovers—whether entwined or piled one atop the other—violently swapping spit. They were like garden gnomes going about their sinister business and I very much wanted to do as Mrs. Weasley does and pull them up by their hair and toss them far and away, hopefully, into oncoming traffic.

of oranges and evian

Combis are pretty dirty vehicles and public eating is generally a faux pas. But I love it when passengers squirrel in the back of combis and eat oranges. When they peel the fruit, the spray of oils in the peel infuse the air with sweet spicy aromas. I feel like a Make-up Lady at Macy's just spritzed Evian mist in the air and asked me to walk into the cloud of cool detoxifying purity.

océanos y pye de limón

On Sunday I went to a mesmerizing photo exhibit of marine animals and afterward ate sublime lime-pie flavored gelato.

In the warm sun, under a blue sky, breathing in fresh air, on that most perfect spring day, I watched marathon runners sweat past me, including a blind runner and his guide, and thought, I like living in Lima.

pollada y maracuya sour

Yesterday morning, I bought a pollada for s/ 6 ($2). A pollada is a dish that consists of chicken, potato (of course), and salad. It is the typical way to fundraise in poor communities. My donation will fund an operation to remove a breast tumor in a 20-year-old woman.

Yesterday night, I went to a posh bar to celebrate the birthday of a new acquaintance. I spent s/ 70 ($23) for exotic drinks and fancy sounding appetizers.

my cat fix

I taught a yoga class today and was well rewarded. Not only did my students teach me how to become a better teacher, but there was a cat!

The cat lived in the house where we held the class. Finally, a cat I can catch and pet. A cat I could molest while my students reposed in Savasana.

Most people in Lima have dogs. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, too. In fact, this paragraph is entirely devoted to the subject of "dog."

So anyway, back to my point... There's something about being able to roll a cat around, pull it by its little paws and drag it across the floor, swoop it up in the air and throw it around like a furry rag, watch it run away and back, and do your darnest to swat it away and have its purring little mug pressing back, insisting to be scratched.

Ahhh... I feel better already.

comings and goings

One of my roommates is moving out on Monday. I will miss him. I've already decided not to like the new person. But that's just me being me. I didn't think I would like my current roommates and the opposite is true.