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'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
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