First some photos

First some photos:

Lima - Captures the Mood

The ex prez club

The rest of my time in Lima was tranquil. I visited Amanda, an former Evergreen student and had wonderful time eating delicious street food and enjoying good company.

When it came time to leave, Amanda called up her friend and taxi driver Diego, and he and I made good conversation (in spanish) all the way to the airport to fly to Chiclayo, and later drive to Guadalupe. He made a point though, and drove it home: be very, very careful in Chiclayo.

Chiclayo:

From the sky Chiclayo looks as if rose from the earth itself. The dusty bricks of the city look the same as the desert stretching all around. It is larger than I imagined: it is the fourth largest city in Peru and has a population one and a half times that of Seattle. Yet despite its size, the airport contained only one room for baggage and arrivals.

Grabbing my bags, this time I took an official taxi to a hostal where I was supposed to meet Homero and get a room. Driving in Peru is an adventure. Lanes are nebulous if they exist at all, there are very few traffic lights, and the ones that exist are often ignored. Peruvians drive with their horns and muscle cars through intersections.

At the hostel I was dumped with all my stuff. Inside I was told that Homero wasnt there and that the hostel was full. What luck! They pointed and mumbled something quickly, I nodded stupidly and set off in the direction of their finger. I found another hostel, much shabbier, and with lots of available rooms (not a good sign). But what was I supposed to do? I got a room on the very top floor and prayed that the earth deep underneath would not fight.

I set off to find Homero. I had gone no further than a few feet than a young man asked me what I was looking for. The city was bustling with taxis and motorcycles and storefronts. A phone, I told him. This way, he told me. We made it to a calling booths. Here, he said, let me take your bag.

I grab my bag tight, incredulous, yeah right! He asked and tried again, so I crammed myself in a booth gripping my back tight to my side. I couldnt believe hed be so bold and think I was so stupid.

Homero! Where are you? I kept thinking. After the bag incident, I had images of the door of my top floor room flinging open in the middle of the night by robbers.

He answered ¨Hola daniel, where are you?¨

I told him, he said he was in a plaza and to catch a taxi. I walked outside and realized he was across the street under four giant trees with white trunks. He stood in the midst of a well dressed gathering standing on marbled tiles, in front of a fountain. He introduced me to everyone: Poets from across the Americas.

Homero left for his hostel. I felt very lonely so I stood, listening to the melodic, passionate poetry and the honking of horns and the water.

______

The next morning was eye opening. ¨Welcome to the third world¨ Homero exclaimed as we jostled along the cities dirt roads, in the heat, in the absence of wealth, to drop off our stuff. I kept thinking how can there be such poverty in such a rich land? Not fair. Its one thing to know it, its another thing to see.

We took lunch at Homeros brothers house. I was fed! Watch out you all, if I come back a bowling ball sized belly, dont be surprised. I was fed cuy, fried guinea pig, bones and a little hair, crispy, gamey, and very rich. and soup with chicken. Plus another piece of fried chicken (because the mother thought I wouldnt like cuy), and rice, and avocados and yucca! I wasnt even hungry, so I was serious work to fit it all in my belly.

And hour later we visited another family. It was there time for almuerzo (lunch). Despite our meager protests they set the table for both me and Homero. I was fed Ceviche, rice, duck, and rice, and beans, and .. cake.

I havent been hungry since! But the food keeps coming.

the next day all of us (homero and friends) crammed into a car, and drove at 130 miles per hour down the Pan-American highway towards my new home: Guadalupe. A welcomed Oasis. I arrived yesterday and am in love with Rauls family already. Plus right outside the front door is a street market that puts the Olympia farmers market to shame. Bags of fresh ground grain, tropical fruit, potatoes of all sorts, giant purple corn, ladies making spicy pastes, fresh vegetable... everyday of the week. Its really wonderful. The women in the house are great cooks too!

Its great here, though I think I will leave in a week to Chachapoyas to teach English and visit a couple small towns in the mountains.

Love you all. Wish I could convey more in these writings, but I hope this suffices.

Daniel

Guadalupe..! I live out there in the middle of all the buildings. Behind the one with the tree that thats tall