From then til now

Andrew, Mel, Estee and Martha left about a week and a half ago, leaving me with an empty house and a half a pan of lasagna (don't worry, kids, Anthony inhaled it). We really didn't have a lot of time together, as the majority of their vacation was spent (sick) in Puno and (recovering) in Cuzco. They did get to try a restaurant Anthony and I had never tried before, sample some cocktails at Astrid and Gaston, go dancing on Pizza Street (looking for someone to love you for your Greencard-giving abilities? Then go to Pizza Street), and visit Ethnic Peru for an alpaca clothing fashion show, traditional dancing, horses, and shopping (there were even a couple of truly frightened alpacas that you could chase around their pen).

It must be noted that, despite what I've said about Pizza Street, I managed to dance with the only other American in the room besides ourselves. Clearly, my unattraction to Peruvians is manifesting itself.

And if it weren't for this headache I've got, blocking all my thoughts, I would write more about our cab ride out to Astrid and Gaston - I'm sure it's the first time my friends have been able to fit 5 people into a cab before. Even cabbies in NYC don't allow that.

I would also tell you about the fact that the bar refused to sell us water because they had "run out." Or the story of how NONE of us wanted to get up in time for the bus ride to Ethnic Peru at 8:45AM so I made things a little easier by trekking out to Dunkies and getting supplies.

But that will all have to be implied, as I am in no shape for recounting stories at the moment.

In other news, it appears that we may be heading to Nogales, Mexico, for Anthony's next assignment. There are still some hurdles to cross, but some things are going our way so it continues to look like a positive and potential future. Watch this space for updates.

Now I'm off to down a bottle of Advil and a bottle of Gatorade.

How to annoy me

While driving my taxi, hit a sheep.

At least, that would annoy me if you were my taxi driver. As it is, Andrew, Mel, Martha and Estee are chaulking it up to yet another exciting Peruvian experience. And they'll be hosting a lamb kebob barbeque later this evening...

UPenn in da' house

Mel, Estee, Martha and Andrew arrived in Lima 4 days ago. So far the highlights include:

• Getting hit by a bus on the way home from the grocery store, with Mel, Martha and Estee in the car. A Peruvian woman even got off the bus to tell me that it was my fault; my response was, "And who the hell are you?" Of course, the bus driver refused to wait for the police to show up and took off. So my friends probably experienced their first hit and run, here in a lovely little alternate universe I like to call Lima. (P.S. The accident? So totally not my fault. Just ask my ladies. Oh, and there wasn't much damage - just a little paint transfer and my license plate got bent a bit.)
• Estee and Andrew suffered through major altitude sickness upon arriving in Puno.
• Estee's altitude sickness quickly worsens after a day on Lake Titicaca and she is diagnosed with developing pneumonia and pulmonary edema.
• Estee sees a new doctor and is diagnosed with bronchitis. She takes oxygen from a tank every hour for a night before her oxygen levels reach normalcy.
• Andrew continues to complain about not seeing an alpaca yet (other than the alpaca steaks listed on every menu he sees).

I am sure things can only get better from here. Of course, I already booked an alpaca farm tour for next Saturday so at least Andrew will leave Peru a happy man.

July is for Peace Corps Volunteers

I know that we are now in August, but somehow I failed to blog during the rest of July because I was spending so much time with the Peace Corps, from the Pacasmayo International Marathon, to the Peru-9 BBQ Anthony and I hosted, to the close-of-service parties I crashed, to Ali's Christmas in July party, and to Ali's close-of-service impromptu party.

And as I prepare myself for 10 days of awesomeness with Andrew, Estee, Mel and Martha, who arrive in Lima tonight, here are a few photos commemorating July:

This first picture is of Ali and her fellow Peru 9ers, at least those who came to the Pacasmayo International Marathon and broke away from the pack during the contestant parade. (From l-r: Jah, Ali, Danielle, Javier, Bron, Angie, Bailey, Ari, Elena, Cassandra, Karrie, Alex, Vishal and Greg.) Oddly enough, since I clearly took all the pictures on my camera, there are no pictures of me - oh, pictures were taken, but Peru 9 is holding them for ransom, I think.

This picture is most of the group of Peace Corps volunteers that were at our BBQ in Lima a few days after the marathon. Anthony FINALLY bought a BBQ just before the 4th of July holiday, after being talked into hosting a barbecue for the bodyguards. You should see those pictures - a complete and total sausage fest! (from l-r: Frank, Cassandra, Wes, Danielle, Anthony, Vishal, Ali, and my fat ass.)

So, Ali was closing her Peace Corps service at the end of July and I wanted to do something to celebrate. I basically told her she would be having a pre-despedida. She corrected me and said we would be having a Christmas in July party, and that Anthony would be cooking her another sausage-stuffed turkey. Moreover, we would be watching Elf on a continuous loop throughout the day.

Most of her wishes came true, but the pirated copy of Elf we bought when Amazon failed us (the DVD arrived the first business day after the party) stalled halfway through and we had to make due with Christmas music instead. But it was a cheerful day with the Dan Band and the Christmas tree Ali built us out of fern and red carnations.

Ali also made sure to rip through all our Christmas decorations and really fancy up the place. Here we are, like a bunch of dingbats, hanging out by the rockin' tree. (from l-r: Andy, Al, Kara, Anthony, Sarah, Kartik, me, and Ali, lying in wait for Santa - "I know him!")

A few short days after Christmas in July, I joined a good number of Peru 9ers as they traipsed through Lima, most of them for their close-of-service medcal exams. Here you are witnessing Jake as he gives Ali her "medication." (I conveniently am not posting the pictures of Ali's tequila bottle appendage as her fellow Peace Corps volunteers sucked and/or swallowed.)

This would be a clearly sober group of Peace Corps volunteers as they transport Vishal to the nearest bar. (from l-r: Jeanette's head, Jake, Ali, Wes, and Javier, with Vishal on top, manfully smoking his cigarette at 10' or so.)

On Ali's actual last day of service (Christmas in July was planned to take advantage of a weekend in which most of her Lima friends would actually be in town, i.e. we had to avoid the week of Fiestas Patrias, Peru's independence days which fell right before Ali's last day as a PCV), Ali decided she wanted to have a quiet game night at our house. So me, Anthony, Tania, and Joey gathered around the coffee table for some vodka cocktails and a few rounds of Scattegories and Apples to Apples.

Somehow Ali decides that she wants one last drink at a bar in Barranco and I decide that it's my duty as her friend to go out on this one night that is so important to her. I proceed to get very, very, obscenely trashed, but at least I looked presentable before we went to the bar.

The very next day, Ali left me for a month of craziness in Colombia and Chile.

Without Ali as our constant visitor (in July, we had our own version of Three's Company going on), Anthony and I didn't know what to do with ourselves so we took a one-day mini-vacation to Paracas, a 3-hour's drive South of Lima. Strangely, we were still in the desert. And we went to La Reserva, an ecological safe-haven which is, again, the desert - only this time, it's protected desert. Which meant that the girls had to remain in the car.

Grace didn't understand the rules and actually forced open the window, jumped out of the car, and came running to find us. We asked the Peruvian taxi drivers standing next to the car why they didn't stop her, and their excuse was, "Es pitbull." Yup, our Gracie, the most terrifying animal on earth.

She was so happy to have figured out how to get to us all by herself, she strutted back to the car with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

Finally, despite being in a barren landscape, which was seemingly empty of all wildlife except a few birds (and I say this disparagingly, since disruption of the wildlife is what is cited in the brochure as the reason for why pets cannot leave the car inside the Reserva), there were some beautiful views - of the ocean. This last shot is of a rock formation they call La Catedral, which used to have an arch to the left that made it appear more like an actual cathedral. However, the arch clearly gave in to the ravages of time.

And that, my friends, was July.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeere's Ryan!

I survived Pacasmayo - and then some. I took most of the Peace Corps volunteers home with me and then threw them a backyard BBQ at my hawt Lima pad.

So yeah, I ran 10k over the 4th of July holiday and I am pretty impressed that I did it. Ali and I had never gone that far in training (at least not together) and I've turned into a lackluster runner, after all. We weren't out to win the race (hardly), so we decided we would cheer on every last crazy motherf&*ker who ran by us on their way to bigger and better things. The only thing we were missing was a pair of pom-poms.

Of course, about halfway through the course, I started cursing the name of Steve Cambridge, the lovely Peru-9-er who set up the marathon event (Peru-9 = Ali's Peace Corps class) - but this was likely due to the strong headwind that we ran into for the last 5k or so. So when I came around a dirt bend (we were in the desert after all) and saw two volunteers sitting on their tushies, I yelled out, "Hey, why don't you take a load off!? FUCKERS." Because I am a nice person.

But I swear, if those 2 had a forty, I would have stopped and popped a squat as well.

Instead, I kept running into that damn wind. Ali seemed to pick up speed in the last half, while I was ready to die. So at the last water station, I turned my baggie of water into a water balloon and nailed Ali in the chest with it. She retaliated by spraying my back with a stream of water. Yeah, that's right - we were the only 2 racers to get in a water fight along the way.

Of course, Ali did me one better by stopping mid-race to pelvic thrust with her fellow Peru-9-er and friend, Vishal, while he doubled back on his 5k race. I didn't quite have those moves in me.

The last stretch of the 10k had us running down a hill (away from the gigantic Jesus statue, I might add) and then straight down the boardwalk along the beach. Ali decides she can't fight gravity and breaks into a sprint going downhill. That bitch totally showed me up and finished about 100 yards ahead of me. I like to think I could have sprinted to catch up to her, but it's not true. A couple of days of hard drinking and cold water showers had completely done me in. My get up and go was gone.

So we celebrated our (not last place) finish by sitting on a porch along the boardwalk, drinking beer and cheering on every last one of those dumb motherf&%kers who said "yes" to a half- or full marathon. We were there when Greg, another fellow Peru-9-er, pulled in way ahead of the pack at 3 hours and twenty-some-odd minutes to win the full marathon. By the way, he beat his time from last year by about 45 minutes. No one was even close to him.

I have to admit, it was a really interesting weekend. I finally was able to meet most of Ali's Peace Corps friends and get a taste of what it's like to live in one house with fifteen other people, who are all sharing 3 bathrooms. There was a lot of crotch-grabbing, nudity, beer, and cuddling. I can't leave out the cuddling. There was one session of cuddling that lasted for about 5 hours in the girls' room.

I also got to experience cold showers, and a rental property without electricity (the electric went out for a whole day). And the Peace Corps volunteers really made me feel like a pituco by commenting on how nice everything I owned was - which by the way, isn't exactly true. I dress slightly better than a homeless person on most days, since I can't be bothered to put the effort into looking more elegant. That, and I'm allergic to basically every nice, quality fabric on earth, so I'm reduced to cotton, cotton, and more cotton. So I get to be your basic t-shirt and jeans kind of girl.

But the PCVs commented on everything from my ages-old purse to my clothing to all my toiletries (Danielle kindly informed me that she has to read something when she is in the bathroom, so while she was on the loo, she went through my entire toiletries bag). The whole experience was very intimate and gave me some idea of what it's like to live as a PCV. I guess I don't really question why I know so many former PCVs who say that the only people they really trust are the PCVs they volunteered abroad with. You are basically stuck in the middle of nowhere and your only support is from your fellow PCVs - most PCVs I know feel that their fellow PCVers will be there, whenever they're needed. And they'll take a side of fries with that.

Anyway, we took another overnight bus from Pacasmayo back to Lima last Monday night, so we were back in Lima on Tuesday a.m. Wednesday evening we had all the Peace Corps volunteers in Lima over for hot dogs and burgers on the grill. They were so appreciative. For some, this was the only American food they'd had in over 2 years.

I can't even imagine their lifestyle. I'm dying here because I want a baked potato and some Reese's Peanutbutter Puffs cereal. But seriously, some host families feed their PCVs nothing but rice and potatoes for every meal. I love my carbs and all, but that's a tough way to eke out a living. I am accustomed to cooking for myself and buying quality food so I am not sure how the PC dining situation would go down with me. Maybe I am a pituco after all...

How to charm me

Adopt a dog from an animal shelter and lavish it with attention.

99 bottles of beer on the wall...

It's time to start singing roadtrip songs. I leave for Pacasmayo tomorrow night, on a Cruz del Sur overnight bus. That's right kiddos, I signed on for another 10-hour plus bus ride, without a bus-cama - ME. Who suffers from motion sickness. Who normally sleeps in her princess-specific Tempurpedic bed. Who proclaimed (very loudly, I might add) that, after that whirlwind of a trip to Arequipa in January, in which she spent over 13 hours each way on a bus (and completely freakin' hungover on the first 13+ hour trip), she would never ride on a %$#@ing bus again.

Well, I'm going. And this time I'm not going to drink red wine out of my Nalgene bottle the night before. Instead, I'm making a much more tame ravioli and pasta sauce, with a little bit of garlic bread action. And I might squeeze in a bottle of water flavored with a splash of maracuya. I am one CRAZY MAMA.

Since I talk about nothing else, you should know by now that I am going to participate in one of the running events for the Pacasmayo International Marathon. It makes me sound more awesome than I really am, what with that "marathon" word stuck in the title, but I am really only running a 10k. After all the problems I've had with my back in the past few years, plus the many years beyond that in which I've developed the particularly annoying habit of whining, I just didn't feel up to punishing myself for all 26.2 miles of a full marathon. In fact, I didn't even feel up to the masochism of a simple 13.1 mile half-marathon (which my friend Michelle just did this past weekend in under 2 hours, and for which my friend Tyler is now training; you people are making me look bad!!). So I'm down to a half of a half-marathon, or a cuarto maraton. I kind of suck, actually, but I'm doing it for the love of abusing my body, supporting some small town NGOs, and hanging with the entire Peace Corps Peru crew.

I am traveling north with my friend Ali, who is the Peace Corps Lima volunteer, and we are supposedly staying at a house with a number of other Peace Corps volunteers. This should be a crash-course in surviving a weekend as a Peace Corps volunteer for me. I will let you know how it all goes, when I return broken and beaten on Tuesday.

But for now, suffice to say that I really don't know what the hell I'm getting myself into, but I am pretty confident that I can run for 6 miles. Here's a 4th of July weekend for the books!

Happy Independence Day, peoples!