No Puede Ser! Over already?

It was remarkable to me how ridiculously fast my time in Peru with Katie went. By the time last Monday evening rolled around and I had to re-pack my bags for the long trip North, I would have sworn I'd been there for three days, not nine. But, such is life.

Some highlights of the trip included, but were not limited to:

1. The hot springs in the Colca Valley: With the outside air temperature hovering around 40 degrees it made for a refreshing entry and exit... Also, our hotel was (not surprisingly) lacking in hot water, and heat for the rooms for that matter. I looked around for vents to signal some sort of conduction, but found none. I then considered calling the front desk to see if they could start a fire or something, then realized we had no phone. I will say that one thing they are in plentiful supply of in Andean hotels are alpaca blankets, and for good reason.

2. Incan Terraces: On our trip to Colca, these amazing historical remnants (still utilized by farmers 1200 years later) originally constructed to maximize agriculturally the water coming down the mountain, appeared below us early one morning. I must say that the picture does not do the scene any real justice...


3. The food was excellent, including the chicken, which tasted better than any chicken I've ever eaten previously in the United States. Also, they had gelato, specifically straciatella, which is like my kryptonite.

4. Arequipena beer: believe it or not, a lager I like.


5. The city of Arequipa, though only a landing pad for me as we hopped back and forth across Peru, actually started to feel like 'home'. There's nothing like getting to know the feel of a foreign place, it's rhythms, the streets, and the people. The Paz family were wonderful hosts and the view from Katie's balcony looking up on Mount Misti is one that I'll remember for a long time to come.

Oh, and the previous entry was no fluke, they drive like bats out of hell there. No stop signs, no traffic lights, just terrified gringos and constant horns.

The Road to Mollendo

I was startled awake by a sudden sharp jostle as the bus we were riding in careened around a hairpin turn high in the Andes. We were on our way to Mollendo, on the Pacific coast, but I had doubts about survival, much less our arrival. The driver, a calm looking middle aged man, seemed not to register any sort of stark terror of; A. crashing through a guard rail and falling thousands of feet to a fiery crash, or B. slamming into the giant fuel tanker chugging directly towards us. I found it strangely but painfully ironic that the book I had been reading and which was sitting on my lap was entitled 'When You Are Engulfed In Flames'. As both vehicles leaned on their horns, my pulse began to beat outside of my chest and Katie's eyes looked like dinner plates. At seemingly the last possible moment, each driver conceded the other the 6 inches necessary for survival and we rocketed past, safe until the next blind turn at 80 kilometers per hour in a four ton aluminum can.



Needless to say I was thankful when we reached our final destination, Mollendo. It being winter in the Southern hemisphere, the beaches were deserted and a cool breeze necessitated jackets. The sky was gray, but the ocean looked ever imposing and beautiful. We were kindly granted the use of a friend's beach house, which sat on a 90 acre farm just outside town. It was quite the adventure as we walked to the beach, only to be foiled by irrigation ditches, native Peruvian (who must have been utterly confused by our appearance) sheep land, and the city airstrip, surrounded by barbed wire. We did eventually make our way onto the soft sand, and Katie dipped her feet in the frigid water, only to slammed by a rogue wave that wet most of her backside and popped her flip flop.

This is just a taste of all the adventures we're having, so stay tuned because there's much more to come...

Back in Time (sung like Huey Lewis)

For those of you who saw the picture above and immediately remembered being a hot, exhausted, sweaty mess in a dingy club about a decade ago, then you'll enjoy this. If you're not among that happy few, feel free to reminisce about your own favorite bands from high school.

That's right, Goldfinger, with fellow "pop-punks" (I absolutely detest that moniker, by the way) Less Than Jake will descend upon the Cleve this very evening. I had considered skipping it in favor of doing some packing for my upcoming trip and finalizing a grant proposal. However, when I informed Mr. Paul about the show at House of Blues, he snapped into action like he hadn't just been punched in the face the night before (which ironically, he had). Off to the show we go...

Expect a review and some terrifying self-realizations soon...