Homeless By Choice

I strolled out of the hotel and down to the main square which is anchored on an enormous Catholic church in the style of most Latin American countries. A pretty girl came up to me and asked if I would take her picture in front of the square and I obliged her. Then I had her pose, wearing my hat, which I do everywhere I go. She liked the picture so much she had me take one with her camera.

Well over nine out of ten cars here are taxis, tiny Hundais. I was given a list of three taxi companies I should use by the wonderful staff at the hotel. There are scores of taxi cab companies in this town. I asked what was wrong with the other companies and I was informed that I could be robbed, kidnapped or driven out of town and beaten. Ok. I’ll stick with your recommendations. The business clump together around here. There are five blocks where about the only street level business is optics, eyeglasses and contact lenses. A short ways away a couple of blocks of nothing but solar water heaters and solar electrical panels. I can’t see any product differentiation between the stores. Although one would think that this would be a shoppers paradise with all the competition I recall that about one quarter of the businesses in downtown Cusco were tour companies all offering the same tours at the same price. Getting off track a bit they all go to the same places in the same order at the same time. If somebody were to do the Sacred Valley tour backwards then I’d go with them. Nobody but our group would be at the first or last stop.

Another street had nothing but very small shops jammed with specialty items, one had nothing but molded plastic, hundreds of cubic feet of plastic clothes pins made up about one quarter of the inventory. Specialty stores for toilet paper, eggs, chain, rope, styrofoam containers. Some of the stores where the size of a small closet about 3 feet by 3 feet. The vendor sat on the sidewalk in front of the store. Other significantly larger stores were so jammed with merchandise that the owner sat on the sidewalk in front of it as there was no room for him inside.

I saw a vegetable store and bought one kilo of tomatoes, a large head of lettuce, a large cucumber, a large carrot, an onion, a pint of vinegar and a pint of oil for four sols about $1.40. Then I wondered how long I was going to walk around carrying this bag and just gave it to some guy sitting in a driveway. Six hard boiled quails eggs were one sol and delicious. I went back for more and the guy was busted, he was selling them to the locals seven for a sol, but I pretended not to notice.

An old man was shuffling down the street very slowly, hunched over he moved his four legged cane three or four inches and his feet accordingly. I hailed a cab had the driver, put the man in the front seat and handed the driver three sols. I then confirmed that the fare was complete and he wasn’t going to ask the man for more.

It’s eight o’clock. I think I’ll read a little about the Lost Land of the Incas and retire early. The day after tomorrow I will be getting up at two in the morning to begin a long hike, may as well get my body used to early to bed early to rise.

Later.

I left Cusco last night on a Cruz del Sur bus. For $39 I had an 8 hour bus ride in a huge fully reclining leather seat. I edited some pictures, ran out of battery on the computer and reclined for a nap. I woke up at 5:12 when they turned on the lights. At the bus terminal I was handed a pamphlet for Marlon’s House in Arequipa. Big Colonial building in town central.

A taxi ride cost me 5 sols, I’m sure I was overcharged and the hostel would have picked me up for free but I just wanted to continue my blissful sleep. A man stood at the front door and said they had no room ready, but one would be ready in an hour. He showed me a temporary room, that did not have a private bath and I slept for another couple of hours. When I awoke and walked out of the room he told me my room was ready and showed my upstairs.

For 25 sols a night I have a 300 square foot room with an extremely comfortable bed, a huge bathroom with unbelievable water pressure and 24 hour central hot water, no suicide showers here. There are five staff members and four guests. I don’t understand the economics of it.

My breakfast was a couple of cups of instant coffee, coffee Peruvian, 2 pieces of bread that are kind of like fluffy pita loaves, butter, marmalade a fried egg and juice of fresh mango and banana. I chatted with Florio a fellow guest from Austria, who told me that he really liked this town and the hotel and we agreed on which towns did not impress us so that made his opinion carry a bit of weight. I am in the process of checking my email. As I typed this Rosario a staff member came up to my room and gave me my fanny pack, which has about $1,000 worth of stuff in it and my passport; I had left it in the staging room.

This could be my base camp for the next couple of weeks, lots of mountains to climb, valleys to explore. Free room service, hot water for Coca infusion coming right up.

Around 3:00 AM I was aware of latin beats, not music, just beats. A disco two buildings away was in full swing, the heavy bass was conveyed through the concrete structure we shared. I got dressed and went downstairs. This time I was not locked in, as has happened twice, but I had no key to the front door, so after springing the latch to leave I propped so that it appeared secure althought it really wasn´t. I made my way over to the disco and with one glance determined that these people were far more energetic that I could hope to be at this time and headed back to my room. I didn´t want to watch TV and had nothing to do by a guy in private can always find a way to pass time.

Dawn broke and I dressed and headed down the stairs. The streets were nearly vacant and I walked them all.

A woman sat a table with three types of juices and cheese sandwiches. A bearded old Incan was eating a guacamole sandwich. When an Incan grows a beard, it looks like those Chinese beards; Incans do not have much facial hair. I ordered a drink and a sandwich. The drink was hot and viscous. We chatted for a bit and I asked her to write down what was in the drink, I guess the thought I was asking for a tab and wrote me out a bill for 10 sols, 5 for the drink and 5 for the sandwhich. These sandwiches sell for 1 sol everywhere. A complaint that the sandwich was only worth 1 sol met with a response of 2, so now my bill was 7 sols. I paid the tab and walked 50 feet down the sidewalk and asked the price of the sandwich and the drink. They were one sol apiece.

I returned to the woman and said, ¨”por ahi” and pointed to the sandwich “uno sol” and then pointed to the drink and said “uno sol”. Then I looked at her with disdain and said “precio especial gringo.” “Si”. “Necessito recompsar cinco sol” and stuck out my hand. She unabashedly gave my a five sol coin after having acknowledged that she had ripped me off.

I bought ¨Lost City of the Incas” by Hiram Bingham, the “scientific discoverer” of Machu Picchu. He is so named because many people knew of its existence, a German had been there and written his name on the wall, it was on an official Peruvian map, etc. I also bought the best canteen ever, a strap with a giant cup holder for a 1.5 liter bottle, you forget you are even wearing it. Best of all it has intricate patterns had woven by the Inca craftsmen and says “Machu Picchu on it.” Cost? 10 Sol about $3.75.

A saw a sign that said “Zona Seguridad”. This wasn´t fenced off or anything, just a bunch of steps disappearing into the jungle. I supposed that the only thing they were securing in this zone was the wildlife so I ascended the steps admiring everything around me, the lichen covered stone steps, the dense foilage and as I climbed higher, the river, the mountains and finally I was higher than the clouds, not much of an achievement in the cloud forest. Still higher I ran out of steps and continued on a narrow, steep trail off into the jungle. Where is my damn walking stick? Climbing something like this is easier than going down, on your way up you can grab what lies ahead. Although the weather was perfect for strenous climbing I didn´t look forward to the walk down so I turned around and headed back down the trail. After a hundred yards or so I encountered a 50 pound dog barking aggressively alternating with growls who was soon backed up by another dog of comparable size. ¨”This is not good.” Still, I had the high ground. I yelled at them and in response a disembodied voice called the dogs off. Continuing down the trail I met the dog´s master, a male youth clad in laceless boots and appropriately carrying a machete. We exchanged civilities and the dogs circled behind him as I continued my descent. When I reached the top of the stairs the dog I had first encountered came back to challenge me again. As he approached I slipped, falling towards him, yelling as I did so. That sent the dog with his tail between his legs 50 feet faster than I could possibly have imagined.

Presently the youth reappeared, holding a 2 meter stalk of some leafy plant. I asked what it was for and he told me it was to feed his guinea pigs. That short conversation consisted of “¿para qué?” “cuy”. At the base of the stairs I thought, “Now what?” I discovered a sidewalk with fresh water gutters on either side, obviously feed by some clean water source and followed them through a forest like setting, but that took no more than 20 minutes. Next, I found the tourist office and inquired what there was to do in this town and was told about some waterfalls 4 kilometers away. Great!

The provisioning process was more of the same with the local I met. This time I was prepared, I picked up a 1.5 liter bottle of water and put it on the counter. “¿Quenta Costo?” “Cinco.” “Quattro” and I put it down and started to walk out the door, “Quattro” she accepted four rather the five she was asking.

Spying a bag of energy mints I asked the price same bullshit, she said 10, I said 5 in Cusco she told me transportation… yeah right… and we settled on 6 then I bought another type of mint with which I was not familiar. Out in front of the store I found a policeman and asked him for the directions to the trailhead and he pointed it out for me. I pulled out my mints, which he eyed, so I offered him one, holding two different types. He chose one and I asked him why that one, his reply? More coca.

The walk along the railroad track was very scenic by itself. I encountered a couple that were going to climb a nearby mountain, which they pointed out. Apparently it is a difficult climb and in places you have to use ill-maintained wooden ladders affixed to the wall. How tall are some of these ladders? Up to 30 meters, that´s 100 feet… no thank you.

When I arrived at the gardens I was suprised to find that it was actually a woman´s yard. She owned untold hectare of spectacular wilderness 2 1/2 miles from town, a town that has no cars and can only be reached by train. She posed for a picture while wearing my hat and declared the we were now amigos. I paid the 10 sol price and she showed me around her gardens and all of the orchids with no flowers because it has been raining too much. Wait where are the waterfalls? She walked me across the road, opened the gate that was seemingly locked with a chain and padlock but with a flip of the lock over a rail the chain swung free, she opened the gate and we entered. She pointed out many plants as we walked down the trail and then told me that I could continue for 15 minutes and see a small water fall, then 15 minutes more and see a bigger one. It was a fantastic walk, I won´t describe it, I will include the pictures when I have more bandwith.

I was back on the railroad track I had followed out, heading back into town. Every couple hundred yards was a number of people with group sizes from 1 to 5 all heading into Agua Caliente from Santa Theresa a five hour trek. I came off the trail just as PYT was passing and stepped up next to her and told her she was almost there, only four kilometers to go. That brought a big smile to her 24 year old Swiss face. I stopped to take a picture or two and she was 100 yards down the trail. I continued walking but I noticed she was gaining me. Now I was shamed. She was wearing a pack and was at the end of a five hour trek. Using her as my pacesetter I decided to catch up with her. We talked for 15 minutes but I decided to cutoff and go to the botanical garden.

I walked around town, negotiating the best price for a guinea pig dinner, then took a bunch of pictures of fabrics for a friend. Wish I could have gone to some village and watched people make this stuff. Finally I had dinner. I don´t see what is so great about guinea pig. The pile of bones when I was done had a skull with eyes and teeth prominent.

“I told you we´d see him again!!!” My travelling companions had stayed at the hostel having already booked 3 nights I had checked out and found other accomodations. When I inquired as to their whereabouts the woman pointed at the 9 o´clock checkout time, which I thought meant that they were no longer there. They were out to grab dinner and the 4 for 1 happy hour special. I said, they are everywhere on the street to the hot springs, and they all offer free nachos. It was not possible pass a restaurant without having someone accost you with a menu. We found a spot and chatted while they noshed and a band set up across the street, played 3 or 4 tunes, sold some CD´s and moved on. We agreed to meet in Cusco on Monday if at all possible, exchanged emails and went in pursuit of or respective objectives.

Woke up at 3 and decided to head out. I wasn´t going to get back to sleep anyway. I knocked on the door of my travelling companions, Ben and Mark with whom I had seen the Sacred Valley the prior day. Ben affirmed that he was up and I told them that I would meet them at the station.

Went to bus station, made it first in line. Need to be one of the first 400 to get the climbing pass.

I laid down on the ground, with my head and back on my backpack. Two stray doys adopted me, sniffing heavily in my ear. When a couple of earlier walkers passed the dogs charged them barking heavily and stopped barking when I yelled “quiet!”. Great, they probably think that they are my mutts. Presently a guard came over and told me I couldn´t sit there. Presenting my ticket I tried to explain that I just had to be on one of the first buses. He gestured to a spot further down the sidewalk plainly marked with an ordinary trash can lid and indicated that I should sit on the other side and I obliged him.

Ben came up to me and said they were just going to walk to Machu Picchu; may as well warm up rather than sit around. I sure wasn´t in a walking frame of mind or body.

With nothing else to do the guard visited me again in five minutes and by this time my gastrointestinal distress was providing short notice of a serious situation. The guard responded to my request for the location of the nearest public bathroom (oh, no, not again) and told me I would have to go back to my hotel. I gave a look of great distress and said that was not possible. He was kind enough to allow me into the guard station to use the guard toilet. The toilet had a seat, there was toilet paper and soap in the room, life was good. Water dripped from the tank at the junction of the supply line to the tank and the floor was wet, but, just hold your pants. Figuring that the speed with with this onset occurred was indication of things to come I thanked him profusely and gave him a 10 sol note, about 3 1/2 dollars. He thanked me. I went back to my spot and he came out and thanked me profusely; I now owned him.

About 3:30 an Inca woman sat down next to me and tried to say something but I told her I demonstrated my fluency in Spanish and she gave up. So we sat silently. The guard came out and spying someone with whom he could have a conversation and decided to tell this woman about my GI problem. Then he told me that coca was good for it. So I pulled out my bag and gnoshed a few leaves and offered some to the woman, who gratefully took the large portion I handed her, tweaked of the stems and we chawed together.

The previous night around 10:00 the guide told us that we had to be at the station at 3:45 if we wanted to get our ??? ticket. Apparently this well kept secret is the word. At 3:43 three Israelis came and set up camp, boiling water, making tea. Within two minutes people started trickling in by the twos and threes. By four there were at least one hundred people in line. By this time I had prevailed on the guard to use the facilities at least twice more. As we were best friends he told me his name was Washington. That is the second Washington I´ve met in Peru. I met two Nixons in Columbia, both Colombianos and named after the U.S. president.

By 5:00 I had used the facilities several more times and the line was over 100 yards long. Soon a large group of Israelis decided that it was appropriate that they join their friends who had been there 75 minutes earlier, cutting in front of hundreds of people, ensuring that they would get there tickets at the expense of people who had paid the dues of getting up early.

At 5:30 we boarded the bus and headed out for the short ride. When we pulled up the people were swarming out of the second bus and the late arriving Israelis on our bus were all elbows and assholes heading for the ticket man. They held out passes for their friends, who probably were still in bed saying “This is my wife´s.” “Where is she?” Over there, pointing to some random woman. I got my ticket and stepped away from the crowd.

Ben asked if I got the group 2 ticket, the premier one that allows entrance at 10 and I replied affirmatively. The group 2 tickets are premier because the members of group 1 have to vacate the mountain in order to allow group 2, but there is not group 3 so group 2 can loiter as long as they want.

We found our guide, who passed us over to our tour guide and we proceeded on the tour. Before passing through the main gate one ascends to a spot just below the original guard tower, the spot from which the classic National Geographic picture was taken. Everybody posed for their “Me, at Machu Picchu” shot. The group was heading through the main gate; I told Ben where I needed to go. He offered an Imodium and I accepted and headed back down to the only bathrooms, located outside the entrance. This was truly going to suck.

Our guide saw me sitting on a bench I explained what happened. He told me that he had another group going at 10:30. Within 45 minutes I felt emboldened enough to venture on and reclimbed the steps and entered through the gate. The groups walk a couple of steps and pause for a 10 to 15 minute explaination of the spot. With no pacer I just charged around up, down and accross. I counted the number of stairs and looked backed recollected my path and I figured I had climbed 800 stairs since arriving.

Thrice more I was ordered back to the front gate by some vile bacilli from the nasty hands of a chicken roaster in Cusco. On the third occassion I met Ben and Mark they wanted to know if I was ready for the climb. I don´t think I want to be that far from the facilities. I gave my precious ticket to my guide hoping that he could find somebody that could use it and went off with the 10:30 group. Much of what he had to say I had heard from other guides during my previous explorations. Having read a few web articles I was able to provide more detailed answers to some peoples questions than the guide could especially about Yale “borrowing” thousands of artifacts that have never been returned. The guide was pretty bitter about it.

After stopping for lunch I made yet another round and the place was really beginning to thin out. Unless you plan on climbing ??? don´t leave before the afternoon. When I have time I will post some pictures and you will see that 90% of the people are gone by 2:00 at least on the day I was there. I also found the lighting, with shadows provided more interesting photographic opportunities.

By 4:00 I couldn´t take it any more. Three days of next to no sleep, dehydrated and malnourished I took the next bus back to town, which I will refer to as Agua Caliente although the name is Poblado Machu Picchu.

Having arrived after dark and having left before dawn I had no idea what the town looked like. Three rivers, a waterfall, brick walkways, no roads, no cars; charming. I went to the ticket office for the train station and damn, where is the bathroom? The toilet paper supply was the usual for public accomodations, none. I had no time. My personal carry stash was exhausted. Thank god for my notebook which contains several pages less than it did formerly. It joined the rest of the paper in the trash can, which is where everything that doesn´t exit your body goes. Can´t somebody, somewhere install proper waste sized plumbing? No soap? Great at least I have my alcohol based hand cleaner.

Back at the ticket counter I changed my ticket. Saturday was fully subscribed so set my return ticket to Sunday at the same time, figuring that´s when the tour company comes every day. The return ticket is not all the way to Cusco but to a town in the Sacred Valley.

After an hour I found suitable accomodations, with a fantastic location. Even I could locate it. With a mountain that towers over everything and being able to tell any of the rivers apart by site and being able to observe current directions I could ascertain the way home at a glance. Most people have less spatial orientation problems than I do. Put me in the jungle and I can find my way back. Drive me down a road and make a few turns and my mind had already gone off track.

By 5:00 I was in bed. Even the construction noises didn´t bother me and they stopped soon anyway and drifted off to blissful needed sleep.

5/23 I was on a bus travelling through the Andes through continual switchbacks sitting in a seat. Although the seat was comfortable and reclined well I only caught a couple of hours of sleep.

5/24 I stayed at a residence 8 blocks out of Cusco town center. One to thirty dogs barked all night long. People yelled to each other from one end to the other of the 100 meter corridor down the side of the building from the pitch I think they were using bullhorns. Funny it is a very quiet area in the daytime.

5/25 The death blow, I couldn’t deal with the noise and told my host I had to sleep elsewhere. I found a hotel right on town center. El Chaski Hotel had a room on the main floor of the hotel, right behind the breakfast area. Town center is quiet and this provided me three doors between me and the street.

Desparately needing sleep I went to bed around 9. I had not counted on the sound of large numbers of people wearing packs and hiking boots treading up and down the wooden staircase but three meters from my glass walled room. The sound of heavy furniture being moved on wooden floors thundered down into my room. The reception phone rang. Simple conversations sounded like they were taking place on my bed. Somebody had come to the coffee area to make a phone call based on the obvious sound of one sided conversations. I stepped out of my room to glare at him. He was skyping somebody. He informed me that he would be but two minutes more.

A slight delay and then the buzzer for admission went off, about 10 times in a row. Then the poor guest started knocking on the door, loudly. In most of these places there is way for a guest to unlock the door, and I didn’t have the key. The knocking turned to enormous banging for 15 minutes, the large heavy door resonating like the world’s largest subwoofer.

After about a fifteen minute delay, it was now four or so in the morning, it started again, not quite as loud but much more persistent. I walked down the stairs to see if I could find a way to open the door, but that had been accomplished. The lower part of the three sectioned door was about a foot away from the rest of the door but still standing upright. Why didn’t the guy just drop the panel and come in? It was the national police investigating the break in. I invited them in and showed them that reception was empty. Then I pointed to the room that was occupied by a woman who kept shouting “Collin!” as the first set of bangs was going on.

The police stomped around in their heavy boots. Excited loud conversations filled the air for another hour or so. After a brief lull, the noise picked up again with guests leaving, presumably for the early train to Macchu Pichu.

What does anybody who can sleep through a racket like that use for an alarm clock?

I hope I get some sleep tonight.

After my 23 hour bus ride through the Andes I finally arrived in Cusco. I called the number my coach surfing host had provided to let him know that I had arrived and then directed a taxi to take me to the specified meet location. Our journey was but ten minutes and he was there to greet me, took my bags, shook my hand warmly like we were lifelong friends and then we walked a couple of hundred meters to an alley of sorts and ascended a long flight of stairs. I was wearing my pack and was now at an altitude of 3,400 meters having just spent a while at no more than a couple of hundred meters above sea level. Our pace was governed by my host, but it was obvious that after climbing the long steep flight of stairs that sitting down would be welcome even if I had just spent the last 23 hours on my ass.

There was little food served on the bus and I asked Ronnie if he wanted to go out to eat. He indicated that he wasn’t hungry but he would take me to a good restaurant that served chicken. We sat at a table that had some crema splattered on it and I looked around the place suspiciously. Spotting what was obviously the bathroom I told Ronnie that I need to wash my hands before I ate. This announcement was met with the statement that the bathroom might not be too clean.

The toilet sat on a concrete floor, the water in the bowl was brown soup and there was no sink but a spigot stuck out of the wall. There was no soap available.

Ok, I have to catch my bus, but thats how I got the food poisoning that made me use the Cusco public bathrooms.

I don’t get it. I couldn’t find a backpack with a frame Panama City, Medellin, or Bogota. Now I’m in Lima, a city with far more people than the entire state of Michigan. I figured if I couldn’t get a backpack here I was doomed to carrying a boat bag for months. Two people at the hotel sent me to a large grocery store, which was far from a supermarket; it just carried groceries.

When I returned to the hotel, the front door was locked as always, but this time nobody replied to the bell. After a few frustrating minutes the cook, waiter, front office clerk, maid and concierge walked up the street. He apologized profusely, “Lo siento Jaime” and then pushed a hidden panel in the door, without using a key, reached through and undid the lock. I asked him to call around to find a store at which I could buy a backpack. Five minutes later he returned with a large pack a bit worn but eminently servicable and offered to sell it to me for 40. “Sols?” I enquired and he confirmed. Seventeen bucks for a framed backpack? I checked it out. The strap waist strap was just about severed and asked if he could take it to a tailor or shoe repair place to get it fixed and he agreed.

Let’s see what happens. In less time than it took to type this blog entry he returned with strap fixed. The bag is a big North Face, a beauty with a full zippered front which means I don’t have to empty it to take something out. Not the kind of thing you would use in the jungle but excellent for the purpose intended.

Now for coffee and laundry. Six soles a kilo? Go my man these close haven’t seen a washing machine in over a month. You can only do so well in sink; actually I’ve done amazingly well with the bar of detergent I bought in Colombia.

The bus leaves at 5 and it is a 14 hour ride to my first stop.

The boots that I bought in Iquitos are refurbished Peruvian military boots. The clerk looked at my boots and said “militar?”

“Si”

“Ohh” and he looked me up and down giving me the same sort of look the guy who inspected the 18 inch knife I had in my carry on when flying out of Panama. It was a big fighting knife and the guard asked me the same question. A sort of deference that is unwarranted.

Ok, I get it. You want an update.

Time to move on. I put all my stuff in my bag, paid my hotel bill and confirmed the price of transport to the airport. The mototaxi driver jumped on me a like a tegu lizard on a rat, but the only person I know would know what the hell that means is my son Mark. The mototaxi headed west as though we were being shot at, crossing the meridian, swerving through on coming traffic. A bus hopped the meridian, knocking down a palm tree in the process. Pretty women, two at a time on motorcycles in front of me, next to me on each side and two behind me.

After half an hour I got to the airport and handed the driver a ten. He gave me a big grin. I stuck out my hand “Necesito cambiar dos sols”. Sorry piece of trash tried to rip me off last night, he was getting no tip. “El tarriff es de diez sole.” I grabbed the money, I think that even in front of the cops he thought I was I about to waste him. “You little cocksucker, you are trying to rip me off again.” It was only about seventy cents but it is the point of the thing. I fished out some coins and gave him eight sols and told him to shove them up his ass.

The lady at the ticket counter told me it is not possible to fly today. Maybe tomorrow. What does this mean? I looked in my wallet. Bills in three currencies. I finally convinced her to sell me a ticket. I have no idea. Maybe I should record the audio of these transactions; others may be able to help me figure out what went wrong. Bill where is my iphone?

She took my credit card and passport and went away for half an hour. Through a door and disappeared. What the hell? Finally she returned with a boarding pass and a credit card receipt. Then she disappeared again. No other staff for the airline was in sight. Umm, I need to check my bag and I am getting really tired of this shit.

I waited another half an hour then I got pissed and stepped over the scale that weighed the bags and entered the bowels of the airport. I thought that maybe I could provoke security into assisting me but they just watched me enter the secure zone and stood there, scratching their asses and watching.

I have been cheered and jeered for my expectation of reasonable customer service. My kids are no longer surprised but they are seldom amused when I walk through a restaurant, pass through the employees only door and tell the cook, who is chatting up the waitress sitting on the counter that if you could just cook my dinner I would eat it and go. Now I know why it is better to just leave. He has nothing better to do, now I’ve pissed him off and he is preparing on the other side of a wall, something I am about to eat.

A loud knock on an unmarked office door elicited a response from a dour, slight old man. This guy could not have weighed more than eighty pounds. “¿Dónde está la oficina de LAN?” LAN is the airline that just took my money. He looked up at me at pointed down the hall. A sturdy knock on that door got a very rapid response but I was advised that I couldn’t check my bag until 9:55. Ok, maybe there is a way out of this. Don’t get pissed.

Ok then, let me find a place to eat and get a cup of coffee. Oh yeah, Peru, the land of instant coffee. Am I whining? The cafeteria consisted of four dirty tables and a very dismal shelf holding god knows what, wrapped in banana leaves. It turned out to be chicken in rice. The chef was very accomplished; it is not easy to dry out chicken so that it has about as much moisture as chalk.

The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley.

Or, if you are not a Scotsman or skipped class that day…

The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,

My guide is my mouse, whose head I caress with my thumb as as I grit my teeth.

What the hell happened to my guide? He was at the hotel at eight; I told him I needed another couple of hours of sleep, I was up to no good last night. This is Sunday after all. He never showed up again. I changed hotels, I thought I needed a swimming pool but got caught up on programming, finances, email, all that nasty stuff I thought I had left behind. But I have air conditioning and my underwear and socks, which I washed in the sink are drying in the dehumidified air. I have sufficient bandwidth to update my operating system but not enough for music videos or porn. The woman at the front desk said that the hotel didn’t have enough credits to call David, but volunteered to run down the street and place a call on a pay phone.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I have tried to get my passport stamped by some authority that ostensibly represents immigration for the country of Peru. I have entered the country four or five times in the last week and had to look for the immigration office. I found one three times, only once did I find one open.

There is a general strike in the city. I don’t understand it. Something about ceding some land to Equador. The bastards could then have access to the Amazon. So?

Ahh, it makes it easier for me to buy land for a resort.