It Happens

Remember that part in Forrest Gump where Tom Hanks is inspired to run across the country in the swanky new shoes that Jenny buys him? He basically gives up shaving, having a permanent addresses, and other stereotypical sensibilities that accompany this american life to run around in a seemingly meaningless fashion and be alone for a little bit. Yeah, he has a group of supporters behind him, but lets face it--Tom's alone. And sometimes, he steps in shit.

For your viewing pleasure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3b3vg9k8Abc

It happens.
But to the complete bewilderment to those around him, Tom keeps running!
(stay with me on this Forrest Gump metaphor for a while. I swear, its going somewhere).

I'm only traveling for eight months (vs running around America for 2 years) but again, the relevance of Forrest Gump to my life is astonishing. In fact, here's a picture of me cleaning poop off my shoes in San Andres! No bueno. I had intended for this to be about more than my "charming" photograph--but there's not really an easy way to ease into certain subjects. I'm kind of trying. I guess I'll just say it. This picture was taken 5 days ago, just 2 blocks away from my hostel and about 10 feet from where my friend and I were robbed at gunpoint.


No one was hurt. Nothing irreplaceable was taken. In fact, I wasn't going to mention it at all, but word travels quickly, and it became pretty clear pretty quickly that the cat was out of the bag--a statement had to be made. I lost some Oreos and a few badly written poems that I'm mildly peeved about, but in complete honesty, the robbery was quite direct. There are four 14-19 year old muchachos cruising around Pisco with a some stale cookies, my filter-water bottle, and a handful of tampons--but I was completely unharmed, and all things considered, extremely okay. I had plenty of support immediately afterwards and filed a police report later that night (huzzah Peruvian police stations). In fact, I even got a few souvenirs! Behold this lovely photographic evidence: my inky-finger--remnants of being fingerprinted at the police station, and also some fried chicken. The hostel owner kindly took care of that meal for us, since neither of us really felt up to scrounging around the city that night for food.

To preemptively side-step some conversations I've had these past few days, I've created a FAQ section for this blogpost.

Q: Were you walking around on a moonless, cold, frigid heartless night?
A: No, it was 5:30pm, and the sun was in full swing.

Q: Were you alone in some sketchy abandoned alleyway?
A: No--I was 10 feet from my hostel, and there was a plaza/market area behind us. In fact, a rather large crowd of people buzzed around the corner in question just seconds after Heather and I made it inside.

Q: Were you waving around expensive valuables, leaving trails of dollars on the floor, or otherwise attracting unwanted attention with your flamboyant wealth?
A: No. I wasn't even carrying a bag--just wearing a coat. My friend had my backpack on (we'd biked through the National Park earlier that day), but other than that, we were empty-handed.

Q: Did you notice anything suspicious before you walked into this situation? Eerie music? Crickets chirping? A personal invitation from muchacho #2 to continue on route in order to make our pre-established 5:30 robbery?
A: No--nothing seemed strange at all. I've never had reason to be afraid of a 14 year old boy--and his three friends were initially out of sight. I hadn't felt unsafe in San Andres before this moment, and didn't walk into an ambush because I thought it sounded like a fun idea. The fact is, it looked like any other street at any other moment.

Q: So when are you coming home?
A: ...

These questions are obviously a little ridiculous. So is victim blaming.

Hearing about an ordeal like this from another part of the world can understandably induce feelings of panic, paralysis, or powerlessness--and I know that most of the time, these questions come from a place of love--but I will not let this incident define my entire experience. Please understand me when I say that I can't come home because of this, and that sometimes, when shit happens, you've really got to just keep running. For every terrible person I've met, I've met hundreds of truly wonderful people--I've seen and done awesome, inspiring, unforgettable things. That is worth something. It's not so easily shrugged aside. Here's a brief look at some of that great stuff that has happened these past 5 days. I hope you can see where I'm coming from when I tell you, with conviction, that I am okay. I am. And that this single experience can't overshadow the rest of the time I've had traveling.

I've eaten delicious food that, if I'm completely honest, was totally out of my comfort zone--especially considering that 2 months ago, I was a vegetarian (save the occasional and guilt-ridden stop at In-N-Out Burger). Here's a picture of cow heart, which is extremely soft and...dissolve-y? Melty? I don't know how to describe it, but you should try it. It's marvelous. I also had some alpaca steak today--but I had just purchased an alpaca scarf, so I felt slightly more guilty (which is ironic, given that Anticuchos is the life-organ of an animal?) I'm not sure how this guilt stuff works, but I'm going to put it aside and just remember how tasty it all was.

I've also been to the Ballestas Islands, off the coast of Paracas. They've been referred to as "the poor man's Galapagos." Having been to the Galapagos a few years ago, I can say pretty assuredly that they're similar--if you replace freaky black iguanas with more sealions! Yay sealions! The water was darker, cooler, and less clear, but the penguins, starfish, and beautiful rock formations were definitely worth the salt-in-your-lungs breeze and mysterious white splatter that appeared on my coat (baby bird guano? Maybe?) Fun fact: a few years ago, shipping bird poop to Europe for fertilizers was one of Peru's largest sources of income. Every six years, they scrape off the stinky stuff and send it off for mucho dinero.

And here's me eating a hairy crab soup--which was tasty. When the hostel owner asked me what I'd had for dinner, I told him it was "sopa con una cangrejo peluda"--literally, "soup with a hairy crab." He found that oddly hysterical. Are crabs usually hairy? I didn't think so. Apparently, the fact that my crab was fuzzy wasn't such an impressive thing as I'd thought. But look--he's waving at you :)

Hi from Peru.

Heather and I also went biking through the Paracas National Reserve. It was...different than we'd expected (read: it was a desert). It was also longer than we'd anticipated. Considering that the day before, we'd walked 9 miles to save 60 cents, I think its safe to say that Heather and I have a track record of underestimating distances. Still, we made sure that the National Park wasn't just something to check off a list--it was an experience! The wind was strong, the sand stretched for miles in any direction, and the mineral beaches were just phenomenal. We even saw 2 vibrant purple jellies! I won't be forgetting this for a while--neither will my butt. That bike seat was awful.. 

Finally, I spent some time in Ica and Huacachina--the oasis of Peru. In the middle of these giant sand dunes is a small, beautiful city. Palms grow in the water and help cool the temperature by several degrees. It was the ideal place to buy fresh strawberry juice, sit in the grass, and just..breathe. The oasis was (originally) natural--but now it's maintained by a white water-tower.You can kind of see it in this picture. Still, whichever way you look at things, Huacachina is lovely. Earlier that day, we'd gone to a wine and pisco vineyard and done quite a bit of Peruvian liquour sampling, so this afternoon was just a drowsy, happy blanket of relaxation--precisely what the backpackers ordered!

We livened things up later that day in sand buggies. GAH. Imagine real life Indiana Jones ride + huge sand dune drops that you race down at outrageous speeds. Thrill factor? I think yes. I also tried sand surfing, which was just ridiculously high. Like, you look over the edge of the dune and basically want to crawl into a hole. No brakes? No helmet? No turning back. But when you reach the bottom of the dune, you know that all that anxiety and nervousness and fret was totally worth the experience (hint)--its just you, the wind whistling past your ears, and thousands of tiny pieces of sand that glide you down the dune faster than you'd believe. Quite fun-- if you like roller coasters without seat belts.

Did I also mention that its beautiful?

I'm not sure what's happening tomorrow, or the day after that--but there's so much potential.
Leaving isn't quite that easy.
I'm not necessarily grateful for the negative things that have happened on this trip--not yet. Maybe not ever. But they have informed the place that I'm at now. They've impacted the way that I walk around Peru.
I like where I am now.
I like where I can go tomorrow.

And, for now at least, I'm sending you my love from Cusco.
<3 ak

Peruvian Freestyle

There's an illusive and precarious balancing point for planning travel trips that I'm still trying to figure out--after all, it's nice to have routes marked out and hostels booked before you hit the road. It also soothes the nerves of the parentals :) But let me tell you--planning out bus routes, hostel schedules, and long-term calendar commitments is probably the most un-glamorous part of traveling (thanks for the spell check, Fergie). The options can be completely overwhelming, and if you're not careful, you'll sit there and micro-manage every last detail. This is particularly difficult for me--I'm a big map-maker/list-creator. I can spend hours comparing options, almost to a point of paralysis! And when there's a city full of living, breathing, amazing possibility outside your hostel, the last thing you want to do is huddle in a corner with your Netbook and price bus-lines.  Blah blah no bueno. It makes my hair fall out (well, this and Mitt Romney).

So. I've started  a mini-retraining process.

Foucault meets Pavlov, if you will.  

When I start obsessing about the baby-deets, I try singing instead some John Lennon instead.

After all, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_j-tpmdPlI

It might have taken me two hours to plan my trip, and I may have been a little obsessive about reading hostel reviews, but I finally made my great Lima escape! Hello from San Andres, a small fishing village between Pisco and Paracas. This is the view from my hostel window. I can see the sky! I can smell salt in the air! There is sun here. I am happy.

I do want to give credit where credit is due. Lima was full of beautiful and unexpected things--things I never could have found in a guidebook, and things I never would have come across had I not stumbled around blindly for a solid set of time (stubbing a few metaphorical toes in the process [note to self: metaphorical toes sound gross--next time, use words better]). The rest of this post is dedicated to the gems de Lima that you just can't plan--the stuff you stumble into. Peruvian freestyle, yo.

Take, for example, this ceviche. Two days ago while wandering my way to a museum (which, come to think of it, I never actually made it to), I discovered this huge expo fair in the middle of downtown district. Huge white tents filled a 2 block radius--and on display? Food, food, food. Also crafts, but I'm a one-track-mind kind of girl. I zoomed in on the ceviche real quick. For 5 sol (~$2), you could buy a plate of fried squid, fried yuca, sweet potato, spiced corn, and fresh, delicious, lime-fish! Now, I've heard mixed reviews about how reliable street food is (especially in Peru, where stomach-flu is common), but really? Can you blame me? I also bought  a pair of brightly-colored llama earrings--character pieces for my future teacher wardrobe.  

I have a lot of weaknesses. Funky jewelry is one of them--hot chocolate is another. I bought a cup of hot chocolate at this fair for dessert, and it was the end of me. I've had a cup every day since then. I think it might be time for some more re-training--just the words "hot chocolate" make me salivate (again, Alaska--quit with the weird images). I digress. Funky fashions are my passions--and while walking around Plaza de Armas yesterday, I came across a parade that was truly inspiring. Several districts of Peru had come together, in traditional dress, and were celebrating Sunday in style. Here's a picture of some of the organized dancing that was going on--watching the skirts swirl is memorizing. They also had guards and ponies on parade, which had a very regal feel (and if we're honest, a not-so-regal smell).

Never underestimate the power of your senses (6th, smell, or otherwise). I can't tell you how many small food stands I've been magnetically drawn to based on how delicious things smell--no matter how full I am. It's Peruvian magic, I tell you! Add this to my list of weaknesses. We encountered one of these mystifying wonders on our exploration of the Miraflores district yesterday--another unexpected delight. Thi, Heather, Paul and I were walking through the main plaza, rather aimlessly, and BOOM, it hit us. Delicious smell + long line = a promise. We're talking about a 30 minute wait, here. Naturally, trying the dish was a must. Everyone else was doing it! The stand was selling Peruvian pumpkin and sweet potato doughnuts, covered in maple syrup. They're called Picarones and they're...mildly tasty? I wasn't impressed after my first *cough* two? But you know what they say--third Picarones' a charm :) By the end, I'd been wooed.

Speaking of charms, I'm writing this down here so I don't forget. 

Cmon, Bonderblog. Hold me accountable. 

Thi, a friend from Australia, has been doing some serious traveling for the past 6 months--and one way she's managed to bring a piece of each place with her is by buying small pendants, charms, earrings, bracelets--whatever draws you in--and eclectically threading them them all onto a single string. It makes for a kick-ass piece of jewelry, and an inspiring way to keep your travels close. I can't begin to imagine what my travels will look like, but I'm positive that they'll manifest into something I'll keep with me for a very, very long time. So wish me luck on the pendant hunt!

My last night in Lima was magic--literally (and not just because I was happy to be moving out of the city!) Heather and I visited Fuente Magica, a huge park in the middle of Lima with almost twenty water fountains. It was a giant oasis, and I great way to end my stay there. The major water-show was synced with classical music, which was entrancing, but I was actually partial to a lot of the smaller fountains. They had Peruvian music playing in the background, and made the air feel--charged, almost? It was lively and lovely and more beautiful than the slow Fantasia-esque show I typically associate with "synchronized fountains." Same amazing Monet-color, more soul.

Here are a few pictures!

I could spend hours watching lights on the water (Gatssssby).

Here's a picture of Heather, en silhouette. The water colors are all melty and lovely at the bottom. Of course, Heather is lovely, too :) And then below is a picture of my favorite part of the park. Despite the chilly weather and quasi-late hour, the park was full of children dancing and playing in the fountain. Huzzah! All hours are play hours in Lima.

Overall, it was a great end to my the city-trip, and a nice way to say goodbye :) The ride from Lima was Paracas was about 4 hours (I watched a lot of Friends), but it was probably more comfortable than any airplane ride I've ever had. Bus #1 success! Hopefully the rest of my buses through South Peru go as smoothly. I have high hopes! I'll try to write more soon. Until then!

Many misses,

<3 ak

Bonderlesson #352: Love Your Feet

Today, I got lost.

Here is a picture.

Take the thousand words that this is supposedly worth and help me fill in the blanks as I stumble my way through this description. 

Photo cred goes to my dear friend (and partner in lostness), Camille. 

I can tell you now, being lost isn't the best feeling--but it is easier when you're together.

We hear a lot of motivational speeches about the value that comes from being lost, and how much you have to gain when you "lose your way." In fact, I'm pretty sure I gave one of those speeches at the honors celebration of distinction. It's easy to say that being lost can lead toward character-building moments, or nuggets of insight that open entirely new doors--but when you're walking around for 5 hours without a clue, the philosophical payout suddenly doesn't seem so grand. In fact, that only thing you can think about is Lieutenant Dan's advice to take care of your feet (thank Germany for Birkenstocks. Also, I'm not sure why Forrest Gump references are becoming such an integral part of my trip...but I think I know better than to question it [insert box of chocolates reference and possibly a feather floating in the wind]). I guess if I'm honest, I wasn't just thinking about my feet. I also had to concentrate on walking with deliberate slowness--because running up and down the street with a wild look in your eyes probably doesn't send the best message.

Let me explain: through a series of unfortunate events, Camille, Lorraine and I ended up walking all over downtown Lima looking for an address we wrote down incorrectly (hence our permanent state of lost). After several hours of walking, asking, and, well, struggling, we made our way to an internet cafe-- and my love for Google Maps was revitalized. Instant clarity! It became very clear very quickly that we'd just spent the past 3 hours tilting at windmills--but we were okay! We had Papas Rellenos in our tummies, a new (and correct) address to go off of, and plenty of sunlight left in the day. We'd also done quite a bit of off-road site seeing, which, in all honesty, was pretty cool. The colors on buildings really are beautiful. But because our intended destination was actually across town, we decided to take a quick cab ride there and be done with it. Seems simple enough, right? Er. Not quite.

There are a few things you shouldn't do when you're in Lima. Common sense things--nothing dramatic.

1) Ride in cheap taxis/buses--they will crash and you will be hurt.

2) Flash your high-price items around and then leave them unattended--obvs. This isn't Lima specific.

3) Cross the bridge by the City Center.

Like, seriously. Don't do it.

In fact, most of the time, you couldn't do it if you wanted to! I've been lucky--throughout my travels thus far, I've met countless people with my best interests in mind--people that are really looking out for me. Peru is no exception. I've had people ask me if I'm lost, point me in the right direction...and warn me not to cross the bridge: "You should turn around. This is not a good area for you." Always a foreboding piece of advice. Any sensible person would high-tail it out of there and listen. And normally I do! But when we gave the taxi driver the correct address, and he started driving us away from downtown, across the bridge, and into the hills of dull-colored houses--well, none of us had planned on that.

The tops of these hills are smooth and light green--like the inside of a ripe avocado. But when your eyes travel down the mountain, everything ripens too soon. It is dirty and brown and covered in smog. The city smells like gasoline and old tires, and the houses look like the flecks of paint that fell of something else--something that was colorful a long, long time ago. You could peel the houses up or blow them away even, but the mountain would still be dead--and you'd be busy picking up flecks of paint for a while. Outside of downtown Lima, these kind of houses are the only reality. Its a reality so far removed from the Securidad I see riding around on Segways in Miraflores, or stationed outside of every single Starbucks in Lima, the situation becomes far-fetched, and reality seems entirely unbelievable. But when you remember to keep yourself honest, its not as confusing as you wish it was. 

I wish the contrast was difficult, nonsensical, or hard to understand, but it is painfully clear why the city clumps public services in very specific areas, and almost entirely abandons another. There is a controlled portion or Lima that is "good for me," and people like me. Then there is a portion of Lima I am not intended to see (like a House of Leaves label--"this is not for you"). You can accidentally cross the bridge and see Lima for yourself--but if you do, you're lost. At least, I was. Am? 

Yeah.

Lima is the bruised and black part of an avocado that you try to scrape off with your fingernail--until you realize that the discoloration is just too deep and that your avocado has a rotten patch you need to dig it out with a spoon--but this makes you uncomfortable, so you lose your appetite. 

Writing about this part of Lima makes me that uncomfortable. In fact, if I'm honest, Lima in general makes me pretty uncomfortable. I don't like the jarring sensation of looking across the bridge and seeing how rotten my avocado is--especially when these neighborhoods are just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the main Plaza Center (which is gorgeous) or Plaza de Mayo, in colonial town (also beautiful)--places I'm suppose to go. Allowed to go. Encouraged to see.

There are huge disparities within this country that are forcing me to simultaneously hold two visions of Lima at once--of the place I've lost, and the place I was lost in--and I don't know how to reconcile the role that I play in ether of these Limas. I'm also just not sure where to walk, given the discomfort I have in certain places. I need to strike some kind of balance. Clearly there's a line between challenging myself and putting myself in danger--but there's also a danger (a subtle, ideological danger) that comes with only going places I'm supposed to see--places of safety (psychological and otherwise). How do I sort out Lima in my head?
I'm lost.

I don't like not knowing what I'm thinking.

And right now, I feel like I don't know very much.

There are a few things, though, that I think I've finally figured out.

No matter how uncomfortable/afraid/and guilty you feel, at the end of the day, you can't make it on your own. You must trust people, and be willing to ask for help. In order for Camille, Lorraine, and I to make it back safely, we needed to put a lot of faith in the kindness of others--namely, a small taxi-man who'd built a chain-link cage around his car seat and was overly enthusiastic with the car horn. When you're feeling paralyzed, concentrate on walking as honestly as possible, and have faith that the kindness in others will recognize the kindness in you.

Today was heavy, but I'm learning.

This is Alaska, signing out with real talk and a photograph.

Make friends and drink coffee.

We'll talk again soon.

<3 ak

Good Eats!

Can I just move to Peru?

Please?

Because sometimes, a girl's just got to eat.

And Peru--well, Peru knows how to eat!

I've been so well fed these past few days, you can't imagine (so I'll help you with pictures). A huge part of that has been thanks to my lovely host family, Laura and Enrique. Here's a picture of our celebration/thank-you-for-hosting-me dinner! Laura (left) is Belgian, and teaches English here in Peru, and her husband Enrique (center) is Afro-Peruvian--he's lived here all his life. 

Our long talks over Nescafe, orange bread, and boiled-water lemonade helped me see a side of Peru I just couldn't have know without them--things about the state of politics in the country, or the relationship between the indigenous population and the environment. We talked about education, we talked about women. I knew that joining Servas would allow me to meet some fantastic people, but there's no way I could have estimated how rewarding relationships with people you met two days ago can grow to be, or how much you can learn about kindness (and a country!) in such a short amount of time. 

Also cooking.

One of my favorites? Papas de Huancaina (or as k-dawg puts it, papayas in a hurricane). It actually has nothing to do with papayas or tropical rainstorms--but now that we're on the subject, the weather has been a bit chilly. Thank goddess for American Apparel tights! But no, no. The dish actually includes peeled, boiled potatoes and a... chili pepper cheese sauce? It's deliciously difficult to explain--you'll just have to take my word for it that it tastes wonderful. I've also learned how to prepare Lomo Saltado (literally "jumping beef"), a Peruvian dish with some serious Chinese influence (which isn't surprising once you realize that there's a huge population of Chinese here). You throw (or jump) some meat around in a pan with soy sauce, onions, and tomatoes, and serve it along with fried potatoes. Delicious. Think I'm ready for my honorary Iron Chef Peru hat? I do.

I think one of the reasons things taste so delicious here are because you can find some really great ingredients at the local outdoor markets hidden all around the city--I say hidden because they don't pop up in the touristy areas, and I would have had no clue about them without Laura and Enrique. In reality, they're not hidden at all. These markets are local hubs for people who want to buy lunch, dinner ingredients, AND get their shoes repaired--all in the same place! I haven't seen any markets in my new area, but my eyes are peeled. I'm on the lookout! 

Speaking of new areas--here's a picture of my hostel. I'm staying in Barranco, a district in Lima that my host family recommended. It's quasi-bohemian and filled with local music, art, and crafts. Its also less touristy than typical Miraflores, which is nice. Once again, I'm pretty pleased with my housing set up! 

Bohemia Exhibit A: this small coffee shop is just a few blocks from my hostel. fresh flowers on the table, and french jazz in the background--I could actually spend all day here. In fact, that's a very real possibility for tomorrow. Also, I should note that I know this person--I'm not entirely creepy.This is Alex from my hostel.  He and Camille have spent a bit of time in Lima already, and took me to this gem for fresh strawberry juice, pastries  and coffee. It's a great place to read and write. Time to get my creative writing on!

Bohemia Exhibit B: The Brazilian film festival is in town! And by "in town," I mean that Alex and I walked...approximately 3 hours to get there? But we finally made it, and the film was totally worth it. So was the walk. Here's a picture of Larcomar, the huge shopping center that's built into the mountainside and overlooks the coast. Also, don't worry--we took a bus home to avoid the 3 hour trek back (on second thought, if you know anything about the traffic in Peru, the fact that we took a bus home is exponentially more terrifying). 1.20 sol, baby! (roughly 70 cents?)

Even with the bus ride back, I'm feeling pretty sleepy. Post-presidential debate crash? Who knows. If you're desperate for caffeine though, I recommend Inca Kola. It smells like bubble gum and tastes like apples coated in sugar melted in honey. 

Gotta try it all once! 

I'll pass on the Kola this time. This kid is ready for some sleep.

My bed is seriously so comfortable, I think I'm gonna die-- but the promise of a delicious lunch will probably keep me hanging in there :) I hope you're all  doing well. Eat/drink some pumpkin flavored things for me! I can't believe we're half way through Octubre! Ahh!

Goodnight, sweet ladies <3 I am missing you. 

ak

"I Won't Give Up"

Soundtrack to this blog-post. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdN5GyTl8K0

This song goes out to the beautiful people I met in Puerto Rico:

I'm missing you guys.

Lima's cloudy without you.

------ <3 ------

I'm sitting here criss-cross apple sauce, listening to Jason Mraz, hugging a stuffed cow, and mulling over this strange sensation that at any given moment, I'm going to open my eyes and be stuck with some very disgruntled airport people. It's been an interesting day. The good news is that its misty outside, and that I started my day with a delicious pumpkin muffin--gotta begin and end the day like my truly Seattle'd self. The bad news is that I'm pretty sure I stressed some people at the airport out (myself included) and that I was almost kicked off my plane. Almost! Let's concentrate on that. For now, I'm in Lima, and that's what counts! 

I slept surprising well at the airport--once you push past the 10 hour hump, its all gravy! I also met some lovely people in the airport bathroom. Shared some toothpaste. It was special. Never underestimate the confidence that comes with fresh breath. Also, never forget that airport carpet doesn't have to look like an eclectic collection of mothballs and tic-tacs. This is the airport carpet from Florida. I took a nice cat nap in the corner, and am convinced that the prettiness helped sooth my nerves--carpeting is powerful like that! I should probably explain: when I was little, I wanted to design airport carpets. I thought it meant that I'd get to travel and draw patterns all day. Maybe it does? Maybe I should be looking in to this more seriously. Anyway, I'm usually pretty interested in carpet (especially freshly vacuumed carpets, like this one. A man on a cleaning scooter rocked my world. You know, come to think of it, riding a giant vacuum could be a sweet job, too). What I'm trying to say is that you should expect a tour de carpets on this journey of mine! Soon, we'll all be connoisseurs! Carpetsseurs?

I thought that was funny.

Granted, I could be sleep drunk.

(Exhibit A: Me sleeping on my stuff at the 4:00am mark).

Luckily, I sleep like a rock, so there were no problems here.

"So why was your day so frazzle-dazzled," I hear you ask. You had a good night's sleep, a good breakfast, and the very freshest breath--what happened? I will tell you. Come close. I had a quasi-intense interaction with airport security. Shh. Something about needing a ticket out of the country so that I can prove I don't plan on doing scary things like working illegally, smuggling monies, or, you know, never leaving. My water bottle also has a strange, cylindrical-shaped filter in the middle of it, which just drove them up the wall. Basically I'm a highly suspicious person that ended up speaking to 4 separate airport security, reserving a fake ticket for 24 hours, and giving them an "on hold" reservation number for appeasement (November 10th, anyone? Lima to Buenos Aires? Let me know, its mine for another 10 hours!). They calmed down a little bit when I showed them my Bonderman Award letter--until they read the phrase "will be traveling from September until June." Then they were convinced I planned on setting up camp in Lima until the metaphorical cows came home next summer. Le sigh. Another Bonderlesson learned. 

I am just so grateful to finally be here.

AH. 

I'M IN LIMA.

I made it to Peru safe and sound! 

Enrique and Laura, a couple I met through my home stay organization, even picked me up from the airport--we took a taxi together to their home. They've been incredibly kind and I can't thank them enough. Here's a view of the city from their rooftop. When we got back it was late, but Enrique made a fabulous dinner (mashed potatoes mixed with rice, a garlic onion soup, and tomato tuna with lime). Tomorrow, we're headed to the market for some fresh fruit, and quite possibly hunting for a local SIM card. Overall, I've got to admit--things are looking pretty positive.

Great things are happening. 

I feel it.

Misses,

-ak

Faaaancy!

I just spent 2 hours writing this blog post..and it was deleted. Le sigh.

The planets are just not aligned. 

Lets see if we can do it again in 30 minutes! Okay, go! 

I'm alive! I know it's been 10 days, and some of you have been pretty worried, but I'm well-ish, and ready to explain. My absence hasn't been entirely due to unpredictable internet access. These past few days, I've had a fever ranging between 100-104F. I went to the ER two nights ago and was diagnosed with Tonsillitis. Hooray, a name for my mysterious symptoms! You can't actually imagine how reliving it is to have a name for it. I feel like I know it better already. Tonsillitis. I'm going to beat you. Tonsillitis. You don't scare me.

I wish I could have said the same 3 days ago. I was in pretty bad shape. I had extreme body aches, a fever, the worst sore throat in the world, and at one point, started hallucinating. I also have an extreme phobia of hospitals, so taking a moonlit ride to the ER at midnight isn't my idea of fun. Imagine the hysteria. Had it not been for the amazing support of the friends I've made here, there's no way I could have done this. They held my hand the entire way--which was precisely when I realized that my pre-bonderman fear of being sick alone wasn't actually coming true, and that I wasn't actually living out my worst nightmare--I had an amazing support group taking care of me.

So. This post is dedicated to them--the faaancy people that push me to jump of waterfalls, make sure I get my daily dose of STF (smoothies, tan, facials), and are constantly helping me learn new things every day. 

And not just philosophical bonderlessons, either--the day-by-day practical stuff, too. For example: what do you do when the tropical rainstorms come in, the manager is out, and the hostel begins to flood? We're talking three inches deep in the kitchen, people. Serious. Business. The answer is to grab a mop, broom, and dustpan, and literally begin chucking water elsewhere (preferably outside, but when your room is about to flood, instinct takes over, and you kind of just throw it). You can also grab some floor cleanser, and take the opportunity to do some deep cleaning. This is Billy, taking advantage of some opportunity. He's using the mop to guide rain to the drain, and making boss-lady-Brit a very happy lady--when she got back from Candado beach, there was hardly any aftermath (besides maybe a few stubborn corners). No stress, no stress!

Speaking of Candado Beach, this is a picture of Sam, Billy and I on our way there. Sam came with me to the hospital and helped me communicate with all of the nurses. Only the doctors speak English. Thanks, Sammy, you're a lifesaver! Sam and Billy are roommates here in Puerto Rico, and live about a mile from the hostel, which means I see them always. They were both there when I had my 104F temperature, and did a great job of accessing the situation (Dr. Sam's a dentist) and offering some much needed (though at the time, under-appreciated) comic relief. Gracias, brOs negativos. 

I've also been learning how to make some pretty delicious food! Exhibit A: Mango Salsa. It's hard to find food that isn't deep fried in Puerto Rico, so you can imagine how happy a spoonful of this makes me. Recipe is compliments of Bre, mi amiga artista from Chicago that's been making PR her home for the past few months--she also lives near the hostel, so visiting is easy. The flowers above Billy's head in the mop photo are actually her doing (the photo was taken before they were done, but you can see how talented she is). The salsa includes cucumbers, jalapeno, corn, lime, black beans, onion, avocado (which are HUGE here--literally, the size of mangos. speaking of which..) and mangos. Salt and pepper to taste. Try it out, people. It's amazing. Cooking with the people that I've met here has probably been one of my favorite experiences--I think I've also mastered mofongo, cilantro rice, and salsa verde at this point. Faaaancy!

One of our resident chefs is Louie--he's on the right. Louie has been heaven-sent to me throughout my sickies. He's brought me Halls, chicken noodle soup, and even orange/carrot juice (which was mysteriously consumed before it reached me. Ha.) It's entirely understandable--that stuff is good. This is a picture of Sam, Louie and I on our way to the San Sebastian waterfall. What a view!

Speaking of views, or rather, things that you don't necessarily see every day, this is an obligatory picture of one night out in Old San Juan. Hooray for good company! 

And the night after?

On second thought, this view isn't actually that rare. Typical Louie and Billy bromance.

My weekend was full of some pretty rare views, though. We went camping in Culebra, and spent the night on Flamenco beach. This is a picture of me on the ferry ride there--it costs $2 and takes approximately an hour to get there. It's also extremely windy (you can tell how much I'm enjoying this). We did pass the island that Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed at, though! (why is the rum gone? and where's johnny depp??) Perhaps those two things could have cheered me up. But in all likelihood, not. After all, this was the outfit I went to the hospital in, and i was feeling a bit off-kilter. Hola, doctor!

When we got to Flamenco, the night was dark and full of terrors (like this little crab fellow that Sam found!) It was also full of baby mosquitoes that laughed at your bug spray and made you their meal. 

Still, despite the 20 or so bug bites that I've just added to my collection, I wouldn't have traded that weekend for the world. Camping under the stars next to the waves was one of the most amazing things I've ever done. I've never seen the sky so clearly. Everything was just pitch black. It was like looking in a clear pool of water--the darkest pool you've ever seen--and being able to see layers and layers stars--closer stars, brighter stars, I even saw a few shooting stars. Anyway, sleeping under the sky, sharing stories with friends, and swimming in the moonlight were highlights I won't soon forget. And in the morning? Magic.

I wish these pictures justified the view. 

In the water at midnight, and back before sunrise.

You just can't beat it.

It's been a crazy few days with some truly amazing people. Now, its time for some rest, relaxation, and hopefully recuperation with my main STF girl, Brittany--she had Tonsillitis before me, and has been coaching me through it the whole way. We're going to knit some new headbands, watch a movie or two, and remind ourselves to keep things faaaancy.

Miss everyone at home! Hope you're all doing well and staying healthy! <3

ak