That was a bit of a mission. Something like 32 hours door to door, probably slept around 4 or 5, and now, suddenly, not sure quite how, I'm sitting calmly at the dining table of my very international house eating a yogurt and thinking about social media strategies. There's a light breeze blowing in from the courtyard with hammock gently swaying and various accents and languages being bandied about.
It's a world away from the hectic crowds and traffic of last night, when I fell out of Lima airport and in to a shuttle bus shared with a grumpy Ukrainian man and a cheery Cockney. Most of the non-Peruvian arrivals seemed to be lone-travelling middle-aged men actually. All very nice and with excellent Spanish.
This morning, I woke up on a very plush coach with seats a bit like lazy boys. Despite the luxury, there were unreasonable levels of humidity due to an unreasonable lack of ventilation. Waking up in the middle of the night only to realise that what's coating your face, and all the windows, is actually the saliva and perspiration of 20 sleeping bodies is not something I'd like to think back on much
Still, can't complain when you wake up in the morning to cinnamon tea and the breath-taking desert scenery of the Pan-American highway. This called for a 'Tiny Dancer moment' - a tradition I have of listening to the 1971 Elton John song whilst on a bus ride in order to re-live that classic scene in Almost Famous (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qn3tel9FWU for anyone who doesn't know it). I mostly limit the tradition to adventures in to the unknown, preferably with a back drop of mountains.
Trujillo (pronounced troo-hee-yo with emphasis on the 'hee'), my home for the next month, is bigger than I expected. It's very hot, not as developed or touristy as I imagined, but lively and colourful with friendly people and not so much of the feeling that everyone is out to rip you off.
I got my first re-induction in to Latin American culture on the plane from Amsterdam. Someone was putting a bag in the overhead locker behind where I was sitting and a strap of some sort just lightly tapped the back of my head. This was closely followed by a rather slow, tender stroke of my hair where the tap had happened. I whipped round to see an apologetic Peruvian woman standing behind me. Nothing like the disturbing images that fleetingly flashed across my mind pre-head-whip! I'd forgotten how tactile and affectionate the women are with one another. You often see clasping of hands and stroking of hair and faces. Of course my initial reaction tends to be - Wo! Boundaries!! Must learn to relax about that, although I'm not sure I'll ever reach face-stroking levels of intimacy with near strangers.
Apparently there are about 15 people living in the SKIP volunteer house. I could swear I've met about 30. Lots of Americans, only 1 other English. My room mate is German and she prefers speaking Spanish to English so that will speed up the dusty language neurones. It is a holiday today so may not be representative but the living room is a mixture of people working, people cooking/eating/chatting, someone playing guitar; it's all so laid back that it isn't the slightest bit distracting. Or maybe that's just my very warm and sleep-deprived state.
Talking of the sleep deprived state, I caused havoc in the local shop earlier when I 1. forgot my wallet and didn't realise until it was time to pay and 2. on my return, with wallet, sent a row of coke bottles cascading across the floor. Steering clear of that place and sticking to the markets now where you can as many bananas as you can carry for about 20p. It seems like a good idea, and not that many, when you're in a market aisle made of MOUNTAINS of bananas.
It looks like I'm going to make a good start on at least one of my objectives tomorrow.
Whilst at Banana Mountain, I learnt that one of the American volunteers teaches surfing and we can start tomorrow afternoon! There's an incentive to get cracking on designing this report...
It's a world away from the hectic crowds and traffic of last night, when I fell out of Lima airport and in to a shuttle bus shared with a grumpy Ukrainian man and a cheery Cockney. Most of the non-Peruvian arrivals seemed to be lone-travelling middle-aged men actually. All very nice and with excellent Spanish.
This morning, I woke up on a very plush coach with seats a bit like lazy boys. Despite the luxury, there were unreasonable levels of humidity due to an unreasonable lack of ventilation. Waking up in the middle of the night only to realise that what's coating your face, and all the windows, is actually the saliva and perspiration of 20 sleeping bodies is not something I'd like to think back on much
Still, can't complain when you wake up in the morning to cinnamon tea and the breath-taking desert scenery of the Pan-American highway. This called for a 'Tiny Dancer moment' - a tradition I have of listening to the 1971 Elton John song whilst on a bus ride in order to re-live that classic scene in Almost Famous (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qn3tel9FWU for anyone who doesn't know it). I mostly limit the tradition to adventures in to the unknown, preferably with a back drop of mountains.
Trujillo (pronounced troo-hee-yo with emphasis on the 'hee'), my home for the next month, is bigger than I expected. It's very hot, not as developed or touristy as I imagined, but lively and colourful with friendly people and not so much of the feeling that everyone is out to rip you off.
I got my first re-induction in to Latin American culture on the plane from Amsterdam. Someone was putting a bag in the overhead locker behind where I was sitting and a strap of some sort just lightly tapped the back of my head. This was closely followed by a rather slow, tender stroke of my hair where the tap had happened. I whipped round to see an apologetic Peruvian woman standing behind me. Nothing like the disturbing images that fleetingly flashed across my mind pre-head-whip! I'd forgotten how tactile and affectionate the women are with one another. You often see clasping of hands and stroking of hair and faces. Of course my initial reaction tends to be - Wo! Boundaries!! Must learn to relax about that, although I'm not sure I'll ever reach face-stroking levels of intimacy with near strangers.
Apparently there are about 15 people living in the SKIP volunteer house. I could swear I've met about 30. Lots of Americans, only 1 other English. My room mate is German and she prefers speaking Spanish to English so that will speed up the dusty language neurones. It is a holiday today so may not be representative but the living room is a mixture of people working, people cooking/eating/chatting, someone playing guitar; it's all so laid back that it isn't the slightest bit distracting. Or maybe that's just my very warm and sleep-deprived state.
Talking of the sleep deprived state, I caused havoc in the local shop earlier when I 1. forgot my wallet and didn't realise until it was time to pay and 2. on my return, with wallet, sent a row of coke bottles cascading across the floor. Steering clear of that place and sticking to the markets now where you can as many bananas as you can carry for about 20p. It seems like a good idea, and not that many, when you're in a market aisle made of MOUNTAINS of bananas.
It looks like I'm going to make a good start on at least one of my objectives tomorrow.
Whilst at Banana Mountain, I learnt that one of the American volunteers teaches surfing and we can start tomorrow afternoon! There's an incentive to get cracking on designing this report...
What an introduction. Hope the surfing goes well today.
ReplyDeleteLinda
Amy, great to hear about your adventures, although reading this does make me feel a little jealous! I'm going to be logging back on often to check for the next instalment!
ReplyDeleteSafe travels - Mx