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Main | Journal: Huaraz, PE | ||
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Huaraz, Peru (The Apocalypse is Upon Us) Tuesday, July 13 Yes, that's right fans. First, Nostradamus predicted the End of the
World (as we know it); then, Northwestern won the Big Ten; and now, I
have set a (flexible) date to step foot back in my home country. Do
you see a Bad Moon Rising? I do.
After leaving Cusco, I realized that I had accomplished everything that
I had set out to do on this adventure. Living with a family there and
becoming fluent in Spanish (at least that's what my resume is going to
say) was the topper, leaving little left to be explored north of Lima.
Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the 20,000 foot peaks that I can see
just outside the window here, but how many 20,000 foot peaks does one
really need to see? Besides that, my advance scouts report that the
level of social unrest throughout Ecuador is quite high and that taxis
and buses are currently on strike. Thus, you may be reading one of my
final e-mails as I currently am scheduled to arrive at Boston's Logan
Airport on the 28th of July--two weeks from today! (Although I may
wake up at any time, realize that I'm crazy to leave here and stay
another year--always an option.) The Dan Newman Tour of the Americas
will continue through New York and Philadelphia before returning to the
Newman Headquarters in good ole Farmington Hills, MI (Hills that is, no
swimming pools, no movie stars, no nothing--no offense), if any of the
locals will have me. I am basically self-sufficient after over five
months living on the bare essentials just needing a floor, a toilet
(preferably WITH a seat) and a few cans of tuna. Anyone put off by a
short clothing rotation need not offer. A list of youth hostels in
your area would also suffice.
So anyway, with the logistics out of the way, I can continue my story
where I left off--sandboarding. I managed to not only survive, but I
actually looked pretty fly going down that groovy, sandy slope at
millions of kilometers per hour (or about 20 m.p.h.), with my waxed
board for maximum velocity. This was of course after I had fallen flat
on my face several times, nearly ready to tumble down the dunes just to
avoid further embarrassment, when suddenly, like a white knight
rescuing a debt-ridden company from a hostile takeover, three boys
ranging in ages from about three to seven asked to borrow the
board...and then I saw the light. These guys clearly belong in the
X-games or at least on some late-night ESPN show preceding the 2AM
Sportscenter. These little guys, having never sandboarded before in
their entire lives, having lived probably no more than a ten-minute
walk from the only attraction in the tri-state area, were naturals.
Even their wipeouts seemed to be choreographed! After I got their
autographs on my board (sometimes the embellishment of a story here and
there helps forward one of my primary goals of this correspondence,
which is to get you to come here), I relaxed in the warmest weather
(22C...yeah, about 75F to the Americans) I had found in over three
months, jungle excluded.
Since I have been reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, I thought it
appropriate to experience about a day of solitude at a vacant beach the
following day to dream up the scheme that will allow me to travel
endlessly, unhindered by monetary constraints. After that unproductive
day, I burned the book and went on a tour of the Islas Ballestas,
filled with sea lion and bird colonies. The hour-long trip was enough
to convince me that I don't need to shell out a grand to see some
weirdo animals on the Galapagos Islands, so the first drink is on me in
the Hills.
I arrived in Lima, noticed the dark sky that has settled in for its
yearly, uninterrupted six-month visit, and decided that I would spend
less time in this city that I have in the others. I have never been in
a city more needing of a subway than Lima. There are something
like fifty-million buses, combis, micros, taxis, wheelbarrows, and
other incomprehensible forms of public transport. I would not
recommend planning your next beach vacation there.
I quickly met another like individual in the $12 youth hostel, the most
expensive of my trip thus far, and we met up with his soon-to-be
Northwestern Business School classmate, who took us to one of the
ritzier bars in town, making me feel out of place in my dirty but
extremely durable Ex-Oficio khakis and one button-down shirt. (I
decided to go for another shirt the next day to spice up the rotation.)
I couldn't tell the difference between this place and the clubs I
usually hang out in in the States until I was introduced to people who
greeted me in Spanish, although a high percentage of the people did
actually speak some English too. I danced for awhile, meeting other
well-educated locals and made a friend that agreed to pick me up the
following day to see Star Wars, although I later found out that Star
Wars has yet to arrive in Lima. She picked me up in her BMW, a shade
better of a car that the taxis I have been used to, took me to a fairly
nice restaurant, ordered fancy hors'douvres (did I spell that right?),
a scrumptious main course and grabbed the check right out from under my
hand amidst my feeble protests that we don't do things that way in my
country, which she already knew since she went to Wharton, my archrival
undergrad business school. Ladies, this is a great formula to win the
heart of a man--through his stomach. Unfortunately, we never met up
again, as I was afraid to get stuck in Lima for any additional time,
but at least I added another good story to the trunk.
Much of the rest of my time in Lima was consumed with watching the Copa
America, South America's big tournament to bridge the time between
World Cups. I also thought about those of you gambling in Vegas, while
I was dropping nickels into the slots in the Sheraton Casino in Lima.
My strategy was modest: gather ten people around a slot machine, drop
a nickel every minute or so, and collect all the free food and drinks
that I could. In three hours, I lost about a dollar but made up for it
quite easily in other ways. Later on, I met some obnoxious locals
while I played the annoying, South American version of pool with the
small holes and long tables. They wound up driving me to some clubs
and interrupting some innocent girls, who were minding their own
business, so that I could dance and get a feel for the Lima scene.
Finally, I visited the overhyped Lima Museum of Gold. The most
interesting aspect of the museum was the erotic pottery that I will not
describe in any more detail but traded some theories with my mate for
the day as to why so many erotic artifacts survived in proportion to
the total number. Any other theories are welcomed.
So now I'm in another beautiful place where I will attempt the first
solo trek of my trip. In fact, this will be my first non-guided trek
without my trusty Austrailian buddy, Brett. Wish me luck. Prepare the
parades through the Northeastern cities.
Dan
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