Maggie is now less of a woman

We are the cruel, inhumane parents that took our little baby to the vet to get her spayed. Luckily the hardcore drugs have now worn off and she is able to smile again. She just can't quite walk through doors without slamming into the door frame... (Oh yes, we are laughing.)

Something funny happened on the way to the kitchen

Anthony and I were in the living room, and I was on my way to the kitchen, when we noticed something slightly bizarre. Usually our afternoons are full of the dulcet tones of Grace and Monster Dog (aka Maggie) wrestling, while Pookie the Jungle Kitty sits calmly under the plants in the backyard and surveys his jungle kingdom. Or sometimes, to shake things up, we listen to the dulcet tones of Pookie the Pansy as he whines about the fact that Monster Dog has pinned him to the floor again and is chewing on his ear.

Yet on this particular afternoon, we noticed something awry. Monster Dog was running in pointless circles around the backyard, her uncontrollable puppy tongue slapping the side of her face. Not more than two paces behind her was Pookie the Jungle Kitty, tearing up the lawn at breakneck speed. Our cat was chasing our puppy. CHASING. OUR. PUPPY.

Kudos to you, Master P. Way to grow some.

Birthday wishes do come true

Even though we've had quite an interesting financial go of Peru, we still found a few pennies in the coffers to treat ourselves to a fish lunch for our birthdays. Pescados Capitales is one of the premier restaurants in Lima, known for its top-quality ceviche and economic prices. So this is where we turned our gaze when we wanted to celebrate the fact that we're getting old.

Cheers to raw fish! (That's right, mom. RAW fish.)

Just your typical expat

Many of my friends here in Lima are pretty impressed by the fact that I drive here. I feel that my Massachusetts driving skills have not altered since I first received my license at 16 (which statement, I am sure, is scaring the bejeezus out of my parents right now), but many people find themselves overwhelmed by the traffic here.

There are so many problems with the commute here that it's difficult to find a starting point, but I will try - I will make a list:

1) Many cars here in Lima would never pass a car inspection - the biggest problem for other drivers on the road is nonfunctional tail and brake lights;
2) The dotted lines demarcating lanes mean nothing - a three-lane highway can and usually will hold five lanes of traffic;
3) Many Peruvian drivers do not believe that traffic laws or common courtesy applies - blocking the box, taking a righthand turn from the left-most lane, gunning it through stop signs, and driving straight through an intersection from the turning lane, among a number of other obnoxious (and frankly dangerous) driving behaviors, are common;
4) Traffic police - many people complain, for example, about the traffic police in DC, but Peruvian traffic police take the cake; they stop traffic at green lights, allow lanes of traffic to fill up to the point that cars are fully blocking the box and causing a four-way traffic jam, and, from personal experience, have a nasty habit of pulling over perfectly appropriate drivers who take lefthand turns when the lefthand arrow turns green and telling them to drive more carefully.

I'm sure this list doesn't accurately explain just how quickly one's blood pressure rises when driving around Lima, but I assure you that when you come to visit, you will understand very quickly that traffic here is like nothing you've ever experienced before.

Thank goodness my quaint New England driving skills prepared me to be the most aggressive SOB on the road!

The kids

If there's any question of whether or not the kids are settling into life here in Peru, this should remove all doubts.

Tis the season...

Thanksgiving came and went, and I didn't once write about it. However, it is my hands-down favorite holiday and I really can't let it slip by without a word or two.

This particular Thanksgiving was special for many reasons, the primary of which is that this was my first Thanksgiving in 29 years not spent in MA with my family. We may have long foregone family Christmas celebrations, but we haven't been able to lose our enthusiasm for a holiday filled with food, food, more food, and the entire wacky, extended family, friends and neighbors who always decorate our table with their smiles, their laughter, and their willingness to put up with us.

So, my Peruvian Thanksgiving was a little diffferent this year, since Anthony decided that we should invite everyone we know and plan an Italian/Southern Thanksgiving feast. That means that we had 24 planned attendees (of which 17 or so showed up) and not a single food item that is ever served at my family's Thanksgiving, except the jellied cranberry sauce by Ocean Spray I was able to uncover in the local grocery store! Instead of a full turkey with the crispy skin, the fat-filled "butt" that I hang around in the kitchen to steal before anyone else gets a chance, and the homemade gravy, we had a 4lb. turkey breast stuffed with Italian sausage. Instead of the mashed potatoes, we had candied yams. Instead of the stuffed artichokes, we had meat and vegetarian lasagnes. And instead of Martinelli's sparkling cider, we had bottles upon bottles of red wine.

Yet the holiday wasn't ruined for me because of the lack of traditional food; instead it was elevated into something new, and something almost as equally fabulous. While I didn't end up eating much (I apparently was too busy drinking wine and setting up the table with the food), I was still surrounded by a wonderful group of friends who I have grown to care about and value since I moved to Peru in July. It has been a difficult transition for both of us, and what seems to help the most is having people who you can laugh with, complain with, and just generally kick back your heels with. In a word, friends.

It was my friends who baked me a Thanksgiving/birthday banana pie, friends who stopped at the store last-minute to pick up food for what we thought would be too many people for the amount of food we'd prepared, friends who sang Happy Birthday in both English and Spanish, friends who cheered my health and happiness with a bottle of champagne, and friends who stuck around until 1AM, madly eating the last few crumbs of my first-ever pumpkin pie and debating the relative hotness of Nathalie Portman and Keira Knightley. Thanksgiving just wouldn't have been the same without them.

Therefore, I am eternally grateful to my Peruvian friends for helping to make my first Thanksgiving away from home a happy occassion. And I thank them for leaving me with all these tasty leftovers that I've been inhaling since Thursday. Nothing says post-Thanksgiving happiness like eating banana pie for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

And Sendero Luminoso continues...

For an update on the Shining Path movement here in Peru, here's some news.

U.S. elections

You already know that Barack Obama won the elections yesterday, and you probably already saw the worldwide reaction to his election on the news this morning, but it still is amazing to me how important this election is to the rest of the world. All of my foreign friends have been following this election (far more closely than I have, if truth be told) and are truly interested in the results. One of my French friends even texted me last night, asking for election night results since she would not have access to the information for most of the evening.

I'm not the most political of people, but I do believe that the U.S. reputation abroad has taken a nose-dive under our current administration and, no matter whether you agree with his politics, at least former President Bill Clinton maintained strong relationships with his counterparts overseas. I sincerely hope that Obama is able to live up to his promise of reinvigorating our reputation and gains the same kind of status our foreign policy team had in 1990s. (That Madeline Albright was pretty darn awesome, wasn't she?)

It always comes back to the food

About 2 months ago, I started emailing a group of women I know here in Peru and asking them to lunch with me on a biweekly basis. I figured we could try a lot of new restaurants that way. Usually, it's a small group, but this past week, we had 9 lovely ladies gathered for a midday break. As always, we had a lovely time.

However, I want to point out 2 things about Peruvian cuisine:

1) it appears that I generally don't like the food here. That's not to say that you won't adore it, but so far I'm unimpressed. Probably my best meals have been fish items (well, except that one incident with the food poisoning), but the 4 bazillion varieties of potatoes (of which they seem to only serve one here in Lima - the papa amarilla) can be tossed out the window. I also haven't become a fan of causa (I generally find this close to tasteless), gallina (too sweet for my taste), or lomo saltado (which I equate to a really boring beef stirfry). The empanadas are decent, and I've really liked some of the crazy fried things you can buy on the street - even if I have no idea what they're called or what's in them. Of course, I usually highlight the fact that Anthony and I cook at home most days and eat out very infrequently, but all the same, nothing has WOWed me (yet). Although I am looking forward to my streetside anticuchos (beef heart on a stick, anyone?) with my dear friend, Sarah. And my Auntie Thomas tells me that cuy (yes, your dearest childhood friend, the guinea pig) is a must-try. Apparently it tastes like chicken.

2) The service has generally been, well, crappy. (That's my highly educated word for it - "crappy.") Especially when we go out for our girls lunches. It appears that a lot of Peruvian mosos (waiters) would really rather we died than to sit at a table and make them do their jobs, the jobs that they actually get paid to do. In the last restaurant, Scena, I thought I could see the guy rolling his eyes every time we caught his attention. In fact, I half expected him to throw our bill at us. Needless to say, it doesn't inspire me to tip well (although, being that I worked in the service industry when I was younger, I can't bring myself to actually follow through - I always give 10% here). Furthermore, if you sit down to eat, many restaurants charge you cubiertos which varies, and covers the cost of using the restaurant's utensils, plates, etc. Then there's the 19% tax (yay government!). So what seems like a deal quickly stops being a deal.

There are a few restaurants that are exceptions to this rule, but they form the minority. Maybe it's just a Lima thing. Since I have yet to leave the city limits, I wouldn't know, but I've been told that people are much friendlier in Arequipa. Perhaps that's where Anthony and I should vacation?

Like a little Peruvian weed...

Being that it's November, our little puppy is now 4 months old. If she's a very, very, VERY good girl, we may let her live until 5...

On the eve of Thanksgiving

I know it isn't exactly Thanksgiving Eve, but I consider anything after the season change to fall as just moments away from my favorite day of the year. Thanksgiving is the only holiday devoted entirely to food and companionable relations with your family. And if you're away from home, as I am, it's the time of year that you collect all those American expats around you, and maybe even a few new friends who don't normally celebrate Thanksgiving (something about not having any reason to because they're not from the U.S.), to gorge yourselves on turkey and remember all those Thanksgivings of yore.

Ever since I flew the nest after high school, every November I return to MA to spend time with my family. Many of my friends do not understand why this would constitute my yearly trip home, rather than Christmas, but they must have missed that memo from my parents that read: Christmas sucks.

And anyway, I love to eat. In years gone by, my grandmother served as the matriarch to her three children, four grandchildren, her husband's two children from a previous marriage, and all the spouses, girlfriends, and boyfriends that that necessarily entailed. My grandmother took charge of the meal - the turkey, the veggies, the stuffing, and, most importantly, the stuffed artichokes - while my grandfather satisfied our sweet tooth with the desserts - pecan pie, apple pie, rhubbarb pie, rice pudding, bread pudding, the homemade whipped cream... My grandmother's house was never large, but it fit all of us, the adults at one table and us grandkids at the "kid's table." It was one of the few times of year that we saw all our relations on that side of the family.

I have happy memories of the holiday. Everything seems so much rosier, so much more bathed in that warm, yellow light of happiness when you're sitting around a table, sharing a meal so lovingly prepared.

Today I was reading a post about washing the dishes at Pilgramsteps and it reminded me of that one ritual of Thanksgiving that I remember most fondly: the end of the meal, with most of the family eating dessert, and my mom and I (usually by force) taking over the dish-washing duties from my grandmother. Nonnie would always fight us valiantly, even good-naturedly, but she always lost out to us in this battle of wills. We would invariably pack away excess food as she bossed us around her kitchen, telling us to open such-and-such drawer to find the plastic wrap, or go into that particular cupboard to find the right tupperware. She would also invariably try to get us to take home more food than we wanted, or to slip another baggie of loose change into my pocket. More than anything else, we would spend this time away from the rest of the family commiserating, chatting, and catching up.

I don't know why this memory of our post-Thanksgiving-dinner conversations is such a happy one. I cannot recall the specific contents of our talks and they weren't isolated - we lived only a block away from my grandmother, if you took into account the path through the neighbors' yards that we cut across. But the memory is special, comforting...happy.

Since Nonnie passed away, Thanksgiving moved locations. Somehow the tradition has been carried by my mother, and the family now travels to her home. Although there are a few changes. My mom remarried, so now our extended Nepali family is invited to share our traditional Thanksgiving meal - yet my sister (through marriage) is usually the only member present. Some members of my grandmother's family no longer participate and my mom also took to inviting her friends to join us. And, perhaps most importantly, there are no grandchildren to siphon off to a "kid's table" so we usually crowd around one very large table that my mom so ingeniously bought.

No matter the changes, it's a holiday I never miss.

Until this year. Now that we live in Lima, Peru, there is no easy jaunt back to the states for the holidays. Which will make it the first time in 29 years that I've celebrated Thanksgiving without my family.

So we've been busy cultivating our very own Peruvian family, and we're hosting our very first Thanksgiving. We've invited all the people we've met since we arrived a few short months ago and who have made our life here so much more full and rewarding. They are the people who make us laugh, with whom we share our everyday lives and worries, and with whom we are happy to share this happy tradition of coming together and eating far too much. Here's to an unforgettable Thanksgiving! (You know, the kind that forces you to unzip your pants because you've overindulged!)

5 days without internet

Last Friday, we lost the electricity in all the outlets on the second floor of our house, which incidentally is where we have to keep the internet connection, so we haven't had internet or electricity for the better part of a week.

This was compounded by the fact that there was some sort of miscommunication with our telephoone company (two bills weren't paid - one because the previous tenant didn't pay it yet, and the other because we never received the bill) so they turned off our telephone and internet service.

All that being said, I promise that there are more exciting things going on in my life here in Peru. This past Friday marked my final day at El Sol, the language school I've been attending for the past two months. That meant that Saturday students, teachers and friends of those at El Sol met for dinner and a late night of dancing - I still don't know how the Peruvians do it. I spent all day Sunday trying to catch up on my sleep. Needless to say, I had a wonderful time and feel so blessed to continue making friends with the expats and Peruvians here.

Last week, friends of mine and I also started a Ladies Lunch Club so we can meet up every two weeks and try new restaurants. Or at least those restaurants that are new to us. I feel very 1950s housewife-ish about it, but I like the idea of regularly meeting with friends and, well, eating. You all know how I like the food.

Although, perhaps the most important things that have happened to me lately are the following. One, last week I met with the President and Founder of DB Peru, a nonprofit organization that primarily works to provide villagers with quality healthcare. Diane is extremely warm and giving, and it appears that they need some help with their Caritas Felices project now that their French graduate student departed after working in-country with this program for 5 months. Caritas Felices is the only home in all of Peru for sexually abused girls who have been removed from their family home by the courts. I plan to travel out to the home for the first time tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes.

The other big news in my world is that I heard back about my first internship application and the news was positive. The State Department offered me a position at the embassy (although the specific office within the embassy is still a secret - even from me, apparently). While this is extremely good news because it means that I definitely have an internship, I also have several reservations, one of which is which office they are going to stick me in. I want to be sure that the internship is something that will be rewarding to me, other than just as credit for one of my final classes. The other reservation that I have relates to the fact that I've already interned with the State Department before, so I'm not really sure how good an idea this is. I don't know, we'll see. In the meantime, this is good, good, good news.

So that's my life in a nutshell. For the moment...

Thought things would be different without a full load of graduate courses

Since leaving my job in June, moving to Peru, and taking the semester off of my graduate studies so I can settle into the new place, many of you have been asking me, "Just what the heck are you doing in Peru?" So I figure it's a good time to talk about l'il ol' me. I'll try to keep it short and to the point, but I don't often get to ramble in English these days, so you may have to bear with verbosity for a moment or two (that is, if you want to get to the heart of the matter)...

When I started my graduate degree, I intended to spend 2 years abroad with the Peace Corps so I could rack up some experience points (very AD&D of me) living and working overseas. It helps that the Peace Corps has a loose affiliation with a number of colleges and universities across the U.S. for their Masters International Program (MIP). Under the aegis of the MIP, a student may volunteer with the Peace Corps as part of their undergraduate or graduate program. Each participating university offers different benefits (and responsibilities) to the student for completing those 27 months overseas. It just so happens that there are only a handful of schools in the DC Metro area that participate. George Mason is the only university in this small group that offers programs outside of nursing (or public health), education (i.e. teaching English as a second language), or biology. So now, if your math is up to par, A+B=C, or, in more relevant terms, I only applied to GMU for graduate school.

At the time of application, GMU was still offering in-state tuition and 6 free credits for those students who participated in MIP. However, as soon as I accepted the invitation to attend the university, I found out that they had recently dropped the in-state tuition benefit. That's been a pain in my pocketbook for 2 1/2 years now, but since I clearly haven't joined the Peace Corps, ultimately it's a moot point.

However, volunteering with the Peace Corps still counts as two classes: the Directed Readings and Research course (i.e. an independent study) and the Internship course. Since it so happens that it took the Peace Corps approximately 1 1/2 years to move through my application and near the point of offering me a position, those 2 elective courses are the only courses remaining in my degree program. And, in my mind, since there is a dearth of online course offerings at GMU and the university has no formal ties with any of the universities here in Lima, those exact same electives are the courses I intend to take while here.

So really, now the question becomes, "Why did I choose to go to Lima instead of to join the Peace Corps?" My Peace Corps' gals, Akoua and Stephanie, can probably already answer that question. My intention with the Peace Corps was to gain that ever-necessary overseas experience needed to obtain my dream job of working in USAID's foreign service (that's right kids, a cool job AND I still get to travel around the world with Anthony), BUT Peace Corps requires 27 months of dedication, potentially in isolation, and in a location that you do not get to choose. I am so proud of, and so awed by, those volunteers who devote so much of themselves and their lives to the work of the Peace Corps. However, I now feel that I am developing a family (yes, the furry creatures COUNT) and I thought it would be hard to live without Anthony, Grace, and Pookie (Maggie is new, so she didn't factor at the time). It really came down to asking myself, "What do I want out of life?" (The answer always is that I want my cake and I want to eat it, too.)

When Anthony got his forwarding assignment with the State Department, my application was still sitting in limbo at the Peace Corps office. After months and months of waiting, Anthony and I began making plans for living in Peru; and then, magically, one day the Peace Corps called me and it appeared they were ready to begin the nominating process. Yet I was already so comfortable with the idea of traveling abroad with my family. And the idea of being a maverick and saving the world as an army (albeit benevolent and peace-loving) of one appeared a little less shiny and bright.

And voila! The idea of acquiring the same experience (without all the support - only half the calories!) while still maintaining some sort of home life and connection to the people I know and love was born. I believe that I can gain valuable experience here in Peru, finish my masters, and still be home every day to rub Grace's belly (or Anthony's, really).

So you now have a basic outline of my first year in Lima: 1) learn Spanish, or at least gain enough fluency that I can be effective in an internship; 2) apply for internships; 3) obtain internship; 4) write proposal for independent study and develop syllabus with Dr. Benjamin; 5) intern; 6) write papers; 7) finish masters degree. Somewhere in there, I'd like to volunteer, too, but we'll see what kind of time I can manage to squeeze out of my schedule for that. (Something about taking on a puppy...)

The second year here is a bit more optional. Since my visa does not allow me to work on the local economy, and I never was going to make a great housewife, the second year all depends on what kind of employment I can acquire. I am only able to work embassy jobs here in Lima, but many of them are pretty basic and will not be particularly helpful in building my resume. (Although I did just apply for a 2-year contract position with USAID...wish me luck!) On the other hand, I may be able to gain some traction with a job in the States. For example, October 1st marks the opening day for Presidential Management Fellowship program applications. Guess who will be applying at 12:01AM that day?

And that, my friends, is my life in a nutshell. I'm not much of one for the 10-year plan, but I've got a heck of a one-year plan! It should be interesting and I'm glad that you're all here to enjoy the ride...

Vampire dog!

There is no question in my mind why Grace likes to sneak away to her loft sofa and bury her head in the pillows.

Fast food

In the states we have McDonalds and Burger King (technically, we have those here in Lima, too), but here in the lovely coastal city of Lima, we have Pardo's Chicken. And I finally got me some.

I have internet!

The internet technicians were here today and we are now connected to the rest of the world, without having to snag an unsecure signal. That's one huuuge, "Woot-woot!" from my corner of the world.

Street begging

Young boys performing acrobatics, juggling, or playing instruments are common sights at the major intersections here in Lima. Wherever you see a traffic light, you are likely to also see one or two 10- to 12-year-olds cartwheeling, flipping through the air, tossing tennis balls, or even simultaneously playing a small guitar and the flute. These are the street beggars I have seen most often. And before the light changes again to green, they walk slowly down the line of cars, pleading for small tokens of appreciation.

These sights are a direct result of the poverty here, which, to put it in more understandable terms, as one of my Spanish language teachers tells me, means that the average Peruvian makes approximately US$170 per month, or under US$4 a day. Even though the cost of living here is low in comparison to the United States, that is still a miserable amount with which to eke out a living, especially if you have a family of mouths to feed, shelter, and clothe.

Having once worked with the homeless, I am comfortable with many people's reactions to the idea of giving money to the homeless or beggars. Personally, I try to never give money to people on the street, preferring instead to give my money to organizations that provide programs for the poor. In those instances, I am confident of the purpose my money is being used to obtain. It's a personal decision and I respect the thought processes that guide others reasons for giving or not giving.

That is all to say that I haven't once given these children money.

Just before I came down with food poisoning, one of my Peruvian friends informed me that the majority of these children who perform at street corners are in fact addicted to drugs. Although the Peruvian government is very strict and very strong in its response concerning drugs, that hasn't entirely eliminated their sale or distribution. And these young children are very poor and resort to the lowest classes of drugs because they are inexpensive. Even more disheartening, they are also the most deadly. I am told the drug of choice is cobbler's glue - these children sniff the glue used to attach the sole of your shoe.

In cases like this, I begin to wonder which is worse: the grinding poverty or the life of drugs these children sometimes succomb to...?

I HEART the internet

What was supposed to be a few days has now turned into a couple of weeks. Shortly after moving to the new house, two things happened and one thing remained the same - all of which prevented me from writing. They are as follows, in perfectly chronological order and numbered for Andrew's personal viewing pleasure:

1) My mom was visiting and we decided to attend the FREE PUPPY event at the American Embassy. And basically, all you have to do to have a whining, peeing, poo-ing, biting, vampiric little tramp in your house is to send my mom to an event that gives away FREE PUPPIES. So yeah, we got another dog. Her name is Maggie and I am dangerously close to losing my mind and have completely sworn off puppies for the rest of my natural born life.

2) Also since my mom was visiting, we decided to take her out for a nice meal. At this (supposedly) great restaurant that sits on a pile of rocks out in the middle of the ocean, La Rosa Nautica. Well, I basically consumed everything the books tell you not to, other than the tap water, which I specifically asked the waiter if that's what he served us. I ate shrimp coctail and ceviche (fish cooked in lime or lemon juice), I consumed a daquiri, and then I ate a completely raw strawberry. The fish tasted a little old or not all-the-way-cooked, and the daquiri was a little sweet - the strawberry? It was a taste of heaven. And for one of these fine dining experiences, I was destined to pay. I quickly contracted food poisoning and was down for the count for a week.

3) And the one thing remaining the same? We still don't have internet at the house. I don't know what's happening here, but I turned on the computer today and magically had a connection. I'm not questioning it right now because now? I'm loving every second of my connection to a world outside of Lima.

Moving to less humidity

We are packing up the cushy San Isidro apartment as I type, and are moving to the house in Surco in the morning. I don't know if I'll still be able to connect to the internet in our new home, but I will try. Otherwise, it may be a few days more until I am able to post again. We'll have to see about internet service...

On hold

I may be posting infrequently for the next few weeks. My mom arrived on Tuesday and will be here for three weeks - we need to show her a good time! Hopefully you are not too disappointed that you will not experience a daily dose of limeño life.

For your consideration

My friend, Akoua (see her Blog), is volunteering in Lesotho for the Peace Corps and I invite you to take a look at her Uncle Matt's charity webpage (Bike For Beds). He is attempting to raise money for hospital beds for the hospital with which Akoua works. I promise not to think you're a horrible person for not supporting his efforts, but it is a charity which will be donating ALL proceeds to the hospital. And it doesn't take much in this case to make a difference. Please consider donating.

El Parque Olivar

This weekend we discovered our local park! It's a beautiful park with fountains and olive trees. Olive trees are some of the most beautiful trees on the planet, with their crusty bark and twisted, knobby trunks. Lucky for us, this park is only three blocks away from our house so we can walk there any time we want, with minimum hassle.

Like all city parks, it is so comforting to find a little green haven inside the city limits.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, are some pictures.

Palacio de Gobierno

Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007), p.92 "The exquisitely balconied Palacio Arzobispal to the left of the cathedral is a relatively modern building, dating to 1924. On the northeast side, the Palacio de Gobierno was built in 1937 and is the residence of Peru's president. A handsomely uniformed presidential guard is on duty all day." You can see that in the picture of the Palacio de Gobierno, the presidential guard is clearly on duty, evidenced by their tank-like vehicle with the mounted gun. That's not quite the guard the book refers to (because they refer to the more prettily dressed ones at the door, who ceremoniously go through a changing of the guard at noon every day), but it gives you a stronger idea of their concept of protection.

La Catedral de Lima

Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007), pp.93-96 "The original cathedral...was deemed too small for its congregation within a single decade, and work on its successor began in 1564, which was still unfinished when it was consecrated in 1625. It was badly damaged in the 1687 earthquake and almost totally destroyed by another earthquake in 1746. The reconstruction is based on the early plans." The remains of Francisco Pizarro, the Spaniard who colonized Peru and killed the Incan leader Atahualpa, are located in the cathedral's chapel. My Peru guide notes an interesting story about the remains..."A debate over the authenticity of the remains raged during the 1980s and early 1990s, especially after several bodies and a mysterious disembodied head were unearthed in the crypt in the late 1970s. After a battery of tests and speculation, the authorities concluded that the body previously on dipslay was an unknown church official and that a brutally stabbed and headless body from the crypt was indeed Pizzaro's, and was reunited with the head and transferred to the chapel." Good times in 16th-century Peru, my friends, GOOD TIMES.

Plaza de Armas

Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007), p.92 "Also called Plaza Mayor, the 140-sq-meter Plaza de Armas was once the heart of Lima. Though not one original building remians, the impressive bronze fountain in the center is its oldest feature, erected in 1650, and its oldest building is the cathedral, which was reconstructed after the 1746 earthquake."

Iglesia de la Merced

Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007), p.96 "The Iglesia de la Merced has a multilayered history. It was built on the site of the first Mass celebrated in Lima (which was held in 1534), but the original church was soon replaced by a larger version. This, in turn, was torn down, rebuilt in 1628, promptly flattened by the 1687 earthquake, then once again rebuilt. Work started on a new facade after more damage in the 1746 earthquake, and in 1773 the church was gutted by a fire that destoryed all paintings and vestments in the sacristy. Most of today's church dates from the 18th century."

Plaza San Martín

Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007), p.98 "The early-20th-century Plaza San Martín has French-influenced arthitecture and a bronze equestrian statue of liberator General San Martín erected in 1921." José de San Martín formally proclaimed Lima's independence from the Spanish in 1821. He left Latin America in 1822 and Simón Bolívar continued with Peru's liberation. The Spanish finally capitulated in 1826.

Clearing things up and checking in

Some of you have asked if the continuously gray sky is a result of the rampant air pollution. Actually, it's just winter. Winter here means gray coastal fog that covers the area for months. I don't expect to see the sun in Lima again until December.

Although I would love to blame the deisel fuel and the inefficient motors of everyone's car...

However, it only takes a short trip outside of the city to find the sun again, as I discovered in my readings yesterday at the Community Liaison Office at the embassy. Maybe Anthony and I will be taking some weekend forays once we figure out our own neighborhood.

Speaking of which, we attempted to view the famous Plaza de Armas, Plaza San Martín, and the famous Jirón that connects the two over the Independence Day holiday (Jirón is a 5 or 7 block stretch of pedestrian walkway, lined with stores and restaurants). There were so many people, however, that we didn't see much. The holidays here are meant for Peruvians to take their whole family to the streets in search of a good time. I don't think I've ever seen so many people eating ice cream in one place in my life. Jirón was completely full of ice-cream eaters. It's too bad my guide book advises me against eating the ice cream here (boo!).

Since we had the dog with us, we didn't go into any stores, but that didn't stop aggressive tattoo artists from stopping Anthony (not that it's hard to pick him out of a crowd - he is easily head and shoulders taller than 98% of the people on the street) and attempting to convince him that he needs more ink on his body. The most popular suggestion was to have Grace's face (the dog) tattoo'd to his arm. I think I am perfectly justified in registering my loud and emphatic "NO."

The next couple of posts feature pictures from the Plaza San Martín, the Jirón, and the Plaza de Armas. For you historical buffs, there are also some excerpts from my Lonely Planet Peru guide (6th ed., Feb. 2007) that explain more of what you are seeing.

Starting with this lovely picture of the Jirón:

More blather from the deep South

Two days ago, I found the beach. It wasn't all that hard, really. Just look at a map, figure out which street you're on, and head in the direction that says "Pacific Ocean -> thatta' way."





















I was elated to find myself near the water again. For several reasons, number one of which being that it was the only breath of fresh air I'd swallowed since arriving in Lima. The air pollution here is pretty bad. I was writing to my friend, Akoua, yesterday and I touched on this issue a little bit so it's still fresh in my mind. Right now the majority of cars (and there are a lot of them) run on diesel and are pretty poorly maintained (something about a lack of standards). So when you breathe in, you're breathing in all those toxins. Which my body personally responds to by congesting my sinuses and swelling the lymph nodes in my neck. (They say this allergic reaction to Lima will pass in time.)

In any case, in the 1980s oil companies discovered that the Peruvian rain forest has some pretty major deposits of natural gas. So they began giving the old Indian tribes the boot, in exchange for a few shiny, pretty items (it's called "taking advantage") and started harvesting Peru's natural resources. Which Peru exports, instead of using to their domestic advantage.

Basically, instead of using their own resources to provide their own people with cleaner energy sources, which in turn promotes the health and well-being of its citizens, the Peruvian government insists on making the wealthiest 10% even wealthier.

I'm a big fan of the little guy, so if a little bit of frustration creeps into my story, now you know why. (If you're interested in more accurate reporting, please see Kelly Hearn's work through the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.)

Now where was I? Ah, yes, breathing in toxins on the harmonious streets of my adopted city, Lima. And hanging out by the ocean, which is where, by the way, perfectly reasonable people such as myself hurtle themselves bodily off of cliffs:





















I can't wait to do that! One of Anthony's coworkers (and, incidentally, one of my former colleagues from my heady days as an agent for the State Department) lives with his family directly across the street from the paragliders' launching station. One of these days, he and his two-year-old can wave as I take one small leap for...mankind?

Needless to say, I walked around for five straight hours that day and I have something to tell you: Lima is HUGE! I barely touched a few square miles of the city in one tiny neighborhood, and there are miles and miles to go...

I also did the Spanish-speaking world a favor and signed myself up for some language classes. I've mangled so much of the language since I arrived, and so few people understand me, that it now appears to be necessary to spend some of Anthony's hard-earned dough on a few lessons. Starting August 4th, yours truly will be spending five days a week in intensive Spanish.

The good news is that the instructor they sent out to test my ability told me a) that she never usually laughs so much during interviews (meanwhile, Ryan is telling her that she completely forgot what her masters degree is), and b) that I am actually at a pre-intermediate level in Spanish. Since my last Spanish class was taken in 1997, I am pretty impressed that I remember anything beyond, "Hola, como estas?"

I also checked out the South American Explorers' Clubhouse in Miraflores. The poor, socially awkward young man they left in charge of the Clubhouse was scary enough to motivate me to never return. I wish him all the best (abrazos a ud., Alex! Nada pero amor, mi amigo...), but he made me so incredibly uncomfortable that I don't care what kind of discounts SAE offers its members in Peru. I'm willing to pay full-price at those US$3/night hostels.

Other adventures included my attempt to find Jeff's cousin's coffee shop, without knowing an exact street address or the name of the cafe. There were several (very painful) conversations in Spanish, before the lovely peruanos put me out of my misery and spoke to me in English. One young gentleman was even nice enough to walk me down the street and point out the location of the newest cafe on the block. It turns out that he was dead right, but it was slightly after 3PM at the time - part of the two-hour afternoon time slot in which the coffee shop es cerrado (closed). Boo.

By the time that adventure was over, I realized it had been about eight hours since I last ate or drank so I began the hour-long trek (I got a little lost!) home.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here are a few pictures...