American Idle

I have never really considered myself American, and I think anyone who knows me would definitely agree that I don't know how to be idle...nor would I really want to. Even here in Lima, as I am supposed to be "vacationing", I cannot help but think about all the million things I want to do and see here. Last night, after a jarra de pisco sour and a liter of Pilsen cerveza, as our local cab driver was zigzagging through town trying to find the hotel (honestly, we gave him a map and pointed out how we were only a few blocks away, but it took us maybe 40 minutes to get back...the assumption is he may not know how to read), my mind was going a million miles an hour.

By definition, being unemployed, I should feel pretty idle. I should feel like this is the first trip in a long time where I can truly relax and not worry about law school finals, grading papers, planning projects, etc...however, this is probably the first trip I have been a tad homesick and felt like something is missing. Maybe I feel like I don't deserve a trip if I am not "bringing home the bacon", so to speak...not that I would EVER bringing home bacon...pigs are my favorite animals...they belong on a beautiful vast piece of land frolicking amongst other pigs...not in my belly. :) Anyway...I experienced the odd sensation of missing home within the first few hours of arriving in Lima. For a girl who has traveled to over fifty countries and has spent months at a time abroad, this was a strange reaction indeed. I think a part of it was thinking about all the things I had going on at home and how much I wanted to get those personal projects started. But I still don't think that quite gets at the cause because, ultimately, if I want to be a writer (and a travel writer at that), I am here traveling and starting my very first travel blog. So, my hope is to discover Peru and a bit about myself over the next few weeks. Maybe I can even figure out the meaning of this homesickness thing. It's an exciting time....

After getting into Lima Saturday evening, we checked into our hotel and took a breather. We finally figured out where we were going next, and about two hours later, finally booked a flight to Arequipa. As of right now, we decided to make our way from Arequipa in the South, to Puno so we can spend a few days at Lago Titicaca, then up to Cusco to hopefully see Machu Picchu and the surrounding area, and then up to Iquitos to spend a few (hopefully pretty memorable and crazy) days in the Amazon.

So, after we figured all this out, we took a walk from our hotel in Miraflores to what is called "Restaurant Row" by my trusted travel companion who has been here two times previously. It was a really nice walk, as other locals were walking their dogs, or couples were walking hand-in-hand in this oceanfront community. As we passed our third roundabout ("circulos") that function as mini-plazas lined with trees and benches, we came across a much larger park that definitely seemed more alive. We later found out it was called Parque Kennedy. There were artists selling their work, food vendors galore, a crafts market full of jewelry, indigenous products like llama-wool sweaters, beanies, and scarves, and other trinkets. The best part of the park was noticing approximately a hundred people surrounding a small recessed stage where many of us in the audience could look down on people of all shapes, sizes, and ages dancing to salsa music. Since most of them were older, I couldn't tell they were shaking their hips like I am used to seeing on such educational dance shows like "Dancing with the Stars." The energy was absolutely amazing. I couldn't help but wonder how a crowd like that even starts. Does one person just get down there and start dancing? Then, others follow? Or do you sit around a bar with a bunch of your friends and ice-cold cervezas and yell, "hey guys! let's go start a salsa party in the park!"? However, they decided to do it, I much appreciated it.

After walking through this park, I was ready to eat someone's leg. My leg wouldn't have been very helpful...I was HUNGRY. So, finally, we arrived to this small side pedestrian-only street filled with restaurants and bars on both sides serving the exact same menu (Avenida del Pizzarias?). It really reminded me of Dahab and how we would constantly get hounded by the same people every time we walked by. One guy finally told us he would throw in free pisco sours, and naturally, we were sold. In a country where pork, lamb, beef, chicken, and guinea pigs are the norm, I had to settle for a plate of cold potatoes with a red cream sauce (papas de huancaino), and my travel companion had the pescado con mantequilla y limon...I will admit, I had a few bites, and it was better than my papas...although both were absolutely fine considering I would've eaten a cute cheeky baby at that point. We were still hungry, so we ordered a small plate of pan con ajo and a jarra de pisco sour. Let's get this party rollin'...or something.

We decided, as tired as I was, we should still walk around and check out the area. We turned a corner and found a small bar that had a cerveza special - two cervezas for ten soles (2 for $3)...uh, yes please! We walked in and instead, ordered a liter of beer (more beer for less than a dollar more). Then, this amazonian beer promoter girl gave us two free beers, as well, and then for some reason, took a picture with us. She really didn't say a word, just posed with us, and then left the premises immediately afterward. Maybe it was something we said...or didn't say!?

As the beers were imbibed, my Spanish improved dramatically...go figure.

This is when we finally found our dear illiterate cab driver...although I don't know if illiterate is even the word. If you didn't know how to read, but you lived in a town, wouldn't you recognize places on a map?? However, once we would even tell him the street names, he still wouldn't know where to go and would drive right through them. At first we thought maybe he was just messing with us to charge more, but since we had already negotiated a set price, we realized, nope, he really just has no idea how to get there. Once we realized he may not know how to read, I will admit, I felt a little tug on my heartstrings. I didn't mind getting lost so much anymore and really felt for the guy. I wonder if this is something I will see more of out here.

So, that was just the first evening...

Today, Sunday, I will be starting my day at La Mar, apparently the best cebicheria in town. Mmmmm...mmmmm...mmmmm. I am justifying my pescado-eating with the knowledge that it is locally caught, and by a fisherman who is probably not using huge nets. If anyone tells me otherwise, I will hunt you down. :)