Weeks ago, when I wrote last, I was in Quito, Ecuador, suffering through one of the worst four-day periods of my life. I was sick and lonely, stuck in a hotel room in a foreign country, with no prospects for improvement each day. I got better after a couple days, then I moved on and continued my trip, moving south to Guayaquil. The trip got much better again, but not until I got back to Peru.

When I arrived in Guayaquil, I was struck by familiar sights: a large and modern bus terminal and wide roads that rose above others to become overpasses and highways. Such infrastructure reminded me of my own country, and not of anything I had seen in South America. Not even in the capital cities of Lima and Quito had all the bus companies operated out of a single terminal, and nowhere had I driven through a city on a highway. I took an expensive cab over smooth streets to the hotel that was recommended to me by my driver in Tumbes and then again by my driver there in Guayaquil.

The Hotel Velez was cheap enough and it had a comfortable bed, but it was far from pleasant. I spotted two or three small creatures crawling around the room and the single window, which seemed to face an airshaft, somehow managed to let in no natural light, even at midday. Though I had become mostly healthy before leaving Quito, I wasn’t confident enough in my health to travel far into the city. I spent my day there entirely within a few-block radius of the hotel. I read in the room, walked around the block, and found a rare store open on Sunday to use the internet. I asked for a lunch recommendation at the desk in the hotel lobby, and I was directed to the hotel’s restaurant one floor up. I ventured out to a nearby park, where I brought Cat’s Cradle and the yellow legal pad I wrote in throughout the trip.

I’ve told a lot of people that I hated Ecuador. I haven’t been lying. A large part of my displeasure with my time in Ecuador was my sickness, which prevented me from enjoying the fun and sights of Quito and Guayaquil and made me especially unhappy to be traveling on my own, far from home. But I was also put off by the people. I have no way of knowing what Ecuadorians are really like; all I know is that I was annoyed and a little creeped out by many of my interactions in the two cities I visited. And I believe that, unfortunately, a great deal of my discomfort may have been the result of miscommunication.

As I sat and read in the park, I heard a rustle from below me. When I heard it again, I looked down and jumped in surprise: there was a lizard, about three feet long, under my bench, only a few feet away. I had heard about El Parque de las Iguanas, but the sign had said Parque Centenario. Only then did I realize they were the same. Scared by the iguana near me, I stood near the bench. I asked an older man nearby, “Es peligroso?”—Is it dangerous? No, he said, it just wants water. He picked up a cup and I poured some water, which the man splashed on the iguana’s head. It continued to crawl around, and I sat back down, as did another man of about the same age. The man started talking to me after a minute. He asked me where I was from, where I was traveling, and how I liked Ecuador. I answered truthfully, until he asked me whether I had paid for my hotel room that night. I said I had. His questions put me on edge, but I was not scared. He wasn’t very threatening. Still, I only became more uncomfortable as he asked me about my religion and told me about his sister in the U.S., to whom he wanted me to deliver a letter he wrote after asking to borrow paper and a pen. And when he invited me to his casa, ahorita–to his home, right then–I stammered and declined. “I’m sorry,” I told him, “I don’t want to be rude, but no. I just want to stay here and read. I’m sorry.”  Throughout the conversation, which lasted twenty or thirty minutes, I was made more uncomfortable by what I didn’t understand than what I did. I wasn’t scared by his invitation, but I was worried that I would offend him by declining, or that I was missing important parts of the conversation that would reveal to me what kind of person I was speaking to. I didn’t know if I should be more at ease or if I should be more concerned. That uncertainty kept me nervous. Eventually, he handed me something. A menthol, he explained, signaling he wanted something in return. I handed him a dollar and got up. I wasn’t happy to leaving so abruptly, but I wanted a way out of the conversation. I was sure we were miscommunicating. Nonetheless, I wanted no more. I spent the rest of the evening in my unfortunate hotel room and went to sleep early, ready to get the hell out of Guayaquil and Ecuador.

The next day I got up to find that all the cabs in the city had gone on strike. On top of that, drivers were in the street blocking traffic directly outside the hotel. I asked the woman at the reception if the city was safe, if the blockade would turn into a riot. She said no, they were just trying to stop unlicensed cabs, who were not striking, from driving. I could get to the bus terminal by taking a combi bus like the ones I had taken in Lima. Still sick, uncomfortable, and unhappy in Ecuador, I faced one more challenge before I could escape. Luckily, I hopped on a combi quickly and made my way easily to the terminal. Then I waited seven hours for the next bus to Peru. I was a grateful man when the bus finally pulled away.

Unlike my trip into Ecuador, there were no border hijinks on the way back to Peru, just the normal procedure as we crossed. I got into Piura, in northern Peru, at around 6:30. As I had been after other overnight buses, I was exhausted. I overpaid a cab driver to take me to a hotel he chose, understanding I was being ripped off more than once. But the hotel was still cheap and it looked fine; more importantly, I needed to sleep. I dropped my things and passed out.

When I got up, in the early afternoon, I left to walk around some, but I didn’t see much. I don’t think there was much to see. I read most of Portnoy’s Complaint and later went out again. (Side note: I rarely re-read books, but I was thrilled to re-read Cat’s Cradle and Portnoy’s Complaint on the trip. Though I call One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest my favorite novel, those two aren’t far behind.) I stayed out late, eating dinner well after dark and then making a stop at an internet shop. I got back to my hotel room at about 10:00, and I began watching TV. I found HBO and watched most of The Number 23, finding it better than I expected. When the movie ended, I flipped through the channels and eventually came across Spanish ESPN, which was broadcasting the Major League Baseball All-Star Game. I had known the game was taking place that night, but I had assumed I would miss it. I should have realized when I found HBO that I would probably have ESPN, too, but no matter: the game was in the twelfth inning, and I got to see the most exciting part. Of course, when it ended, the American League came away with another win. Someday I’ll see the National League win. Someday.

The next morning I took off for Chiclayo. Amazed once more by the cheap bus tickets, relaxed now that I was back in Peru, and newly enamored of fried plantain chips, I enjoyed the three-hour ride to the next city. In Chiclayo I found a cheap hotel and vowed that, since I was feeling healthier than I had felt since Tumbes nearly two weeks earlier, I would finally explore a city again. I planned to see Chiclayo that day and get outside of the city to see nearby ruins the next day. Then I opened my laptop and discovered it picked up perfect wireless internet access in the room.

To that point, I had been feeding my internet addiction at what I thought was a healthy level. I checked in most days, usually spending about an hour on the internet. That was much more time online than many travelers would have spent online, but 1) that amount of time represented a marked decrease from my usual connectedness, and 2) having no structure to my days or weeks, an hour or even two on the internet still left me with too many hours to fill each day. But when I got a high-speed connection for the first time in weeks, and on my laptop, I forgot any plans that didn’t involve my computer. What followed was a chapter in my trip and my life that doesn’t make me proud, but in which proper perspective can allow me to find amusement. I spent the next 60 hours in that room, reading articles, watching videos, and answering emails. I moved from the bed to the desk to the bathroom, keeping the computer in my hands. Once each day I left the room to get food. Each time I brought back chicken fried rice from a nearby chifa shop. My digestion problems returned, and I began a taking antibacterial medication. Over two days I cleaned out my inbox, my Google Reader, and an online reading list that had been growing since Spring Break. When it was all over, I had little to show for it except an all-too-long blog post about a New Yorker cover and an empty online to-do list. But I felt good. I had sent and received many emails to and from friends, I had read things I had long wanted to read, and I had brought myself out of the funk I had been in since Ecuador. As I packed up my things, I noticed the room was a sight to see: clothes were all over the place, an open bottle of pills sat on the desk, and Chinese food containers littered the floor. Another person might have spent two days in this room on a hell of a bender. My only drug, however, was electronic. I had refueled, and I was ready to move on.

But I had spent more time in my Chiclayo hotel room than I had planned, and I found I didn’t have time to see Trujillo, the country’s third-largest city, as I had intended. I needed to be back in Lima by the 19th, when I had an appointment to make, so I skipped Trujillo and took an overnight bus back to the capital, arriving that morning. Also that day I was supposed to make contact with my family in Lima.

I didn’t mention I had family in Lima? That’s because I only learned about them in early July. My mom emailed me about halfway through my trip with a revelation: one of my second cousins, whom I’ve never met, married a Peruvian guy a couple years ago, and his mom and grandparents live in Lima. I sent them an email right after that, and I received two replies. First I was told I could stay with them if I wanted, then I was told they would be expecting me on the 19th. So I headed to their place to meet my newly discovered family.

Though I was hesitant about staying with people I hadn’t met before, my concerns were quickly forgotten. My hosts were immediately kind, generous, and fun, and I was happy to have such a wonderful place to stay. I stayed with the grandparents and spent more time with the younger members of the family. Over my four days I spent with my second cousin’s husband’s grandparents, the biggest problem I faced was convincing my “grandmother” that I couldn’t eat anymore. No tengo mas hambre, I had to repeat. Estoy satisfecho. No puedo comer mas. The home was beautiful and comfortable, and I was living in luxury. I was given the top floor to myself, where I enjoyed a king-sized bed, my own bathroom and living room, a kitchenette, wireless internet, and a widescreen TV. But I got out of the house each day, spending time with my “cousins,” a fifteen-year-old and a twenty-two years old with whom I walked around Lima and saw Batman, and doing some more of the work I was supposed to do in Lima.

The reason for my return on the 19th was a meeting I had scheduled with Jake Lyell, a professional photographer I had emailed with but never met. Jake was the first person I contacted when I began planning my trip to Peru back in February. I had found his website and his photos from Lima, so I asked him for advice at a time when I knew nothing about photography, Peru, or my summer ahead. When I learned in July that he was coming back to Peru this summer, I asked if he’d meet me, and he suggested a meal. We had dinner that night and I got to ask him lots about the life of a professional photographer, one who travels around the world for assignments. But that wasn’t our only time together: he invited me to join him for a day of shooting, and I accepted immediately, having been hoping for an invitation along those lines.

We went shooting a few days later in Villa Maria, one of the large districts far from the city center that is filled with pueblos jovenes, Lima’s shanty towns that have grown since the war of the 1980s and 1990s. I tried not to step on Jake’s toes as he shot, and I would have been happy just to watch him and learn, but since I had my camera, I took a lot of photos, too. Helped by Jake’s company and his talent, I got great photos that day. We talked to many people and wandered through the district, seeing up close the Lima that few foreigners see, and coming away with visual documentation. It was a great day.

That night I headed to Ayacucho, where I traded business for pleasure. I went to Ayacucho, a city in the Andes and the least-popular tourist destination I had seen yet, to visit new friends. They were friends of friends that I had met in Cusco and then again in Lima, and, now that I had little to do, I took a few days to visit them where they were working and living for the summer. But two or three days turned into a week when I began having so much fun. They invited me to stay in the house they lived in, which was owned and operated by Cross-Cultural Solutions, the program they were working with, and the head of the program gave me a warm welcome. Despite the invitation, I was uncomfortable staying there, since everyone else in the house had paid for what I was taking for free. Nonetheless, I stayed and had a great time. The house had fifteen to twenty American and Canadian college kids, and I spent my time as they did: reading, walking around the city, chatting around bonfires on the roof. I met great people and had more interaction in that week than I had had in the previous month.

My fourth day there was the 28th, the Peruvian Independence Day. Because of the holiday, I couldn’t travel then or the next day, so I extended my stay and planned to enjoy the festivities in Ayacucho. One of the others suggested we buy fireworks, and I signed onto the plan immediately. Fifteen of us pooled our money to buy a five-story castillo (castle), not knowing what to expect. The show was astonishing and provided me my first experience with fireworks from up close. Here’s a taste of the event:

See this post for photos and more about the evening.

I spent another two days in Ayacucho, took an overnight bus back to Lima on the 30th, and passed my final two days in Peru at my family’s house. I saw my little cousin again and met up one last time with a few of the friends I had made in Peru. And on the night of the 1st I went to the airport and boarded a plane home. We stopped in Ft. Lauderdale and then at La Guardia. It had been a great trip, and I was happy to be back.

My summer in Peru had come to a close.

Having grown up in a city, fireworks were not a part of my childhood celebrations. I saw them regularly, but always from afar. Somewhere in New York Harbor or the East River the rockets go up, and over the city they explode. I can see them, but I can’t feel them.

One year during elementary school my family went down to visit my uncle in North Carolina for the Fourth of July. I remember kids holding sparklers and maybe someone lit real fireworks, but it wasn’t a big show, and most of it is gone from my memory. So I jumped at the opportunity to light fireworks myself and see them go off only feet away from me, for the first time I could remember.

July 28th is the Peruvian Independence Day, el día patria, and I spent the day with a dozen other Americans. But we wanted to get into the spirit of the day, so we decided to buy fireworks, or efectivos explosivos, to give ourselves and some residents of Ayacucho a show for Independence Day.

[Unfortunately in uploading the photos to the website they've lost some of their color. The original photos are more colorful than they appear here, and the full color can be seen by clicking on the photos.]

We bought a castillo–a castle– with five stories. We didn’t know what to expect, but the stack of bamboo and the diagram gave hints.

After some searching, a member of our party found a lot where we could light the fireworks. It turned out to be a hardtop, and when we got there we found a group of people playing music and dancing. Nothing unusual.

We watched the men set up the castillo.

Then we watched the show.

As you can see, it was a beautiful evening.

Otro mes más que se va, chao Julio. Se acabó el rojo y blanco en todas las calles. Los que tiene sus escarapelas, banderas(incluida la de Leysi Suárez) y otras cosa, es hora guardarlas hasta el próximo año.

Hasta Jesús es peruano.

O cosas que debería tener en cuenta. Sin más análisis, porque me aburrió en demasía.

Intente ver el mensaje del presidente Alan García por fiestas patrias. Me levanté tarde, cerca al mediodía, y puse el canal 7 para escuchar lo que tenía que decir. Me aburrí en extremo, a pesar de escuchar algo así como una hora del discurso. Qué triste debe ser para él tener un grupo de ayayeros asesores que luego de las venias y la salamería respectiva, le dijeron: “has una lista enorme y larga de todo lo que ha pasado en el Perú en este año. Pero sólo lo bueno, claro. Menciona todos los caminos uno por uno, todas las obras que encuentres, todas las inauguraciones que has hecho. En las que no has estado también. Todo. Así, si mencionas a cada poblado en donde ha pasado algo, fijo que en ese poblado aumentan tu aprobación”.

Así resulta fácil hacer dar un discurso a la nación. Un mea culpa chiquito al inicio para callar a los millones y que nadie proteste y luego suéltate todas las obras. No prometas nada, que nadie te va a creer.

Así vi el discurso. Pero como una larga lista de obras propias y ajenas (presentadas como propias) da mucho tiempo para pensar en lo que pasa el 28 de julio, expongo algunos hechos que me parecen incómodos y aburren más en estas fiestas patrias:

El presidente no debería ir a una misa católica. No debería ir a ninguna misa, por más tradicional que sea, porque eso significa que el Estado la apoya, es decir, discrimina a las demás religiones.

Su discurso debiera tener una presentación en power point para hacerlo más ameno. No importa lo que haga el director de cámaras, verlo con el pelo teñido (dejándose las patillas canosas para mostrar la experiencia respectiva) hablando y hablando, y por momentos enfocar a congresistas durmiendo, aburre (de repente ese es el objetivo).

No debería vanagloriarse de obras que no son obras directas del Estado. Ni debería enumerarlas todas. Hacer una lista larga no es hablar de políticas de desarrollo o algo parecido. De igual modo, debería respetar a las empresas privadas y darles el mérito de sus propios logros sin presentarlos como suyo.

Debería entregar el discurso a los medios el día anterior para que junto al canal 7 pongan en el momento correcto los títulos (que siempre llegaron tarde, además de ser una copia literal de “la mejor frase del presidente” para apoyarlo mientras habla).

No deberían permitir que se le vea recorriendo las 2 ó 3 cuadras hasta Palacio de Gobierno en un carro cerrado con la única presencia de agentes de seguridad y ni un sólo civil mirando. Dejó la sensación de que era un dictador con miedo a las protestas sociales.

Si saludando a los usares de Junín en el patio del palacio de gobierno, se le ocurre palmear al caballo, que alguien se encargue de dopar al animal, porque se nota que le cae mal (como dicen las viejitas “los animales saben…”).

Tu voto es muy importante para este blog

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Este post ya está teniendo diversas interpretaciones. La verdad la intención es saludar a los compatriotas y mi verdadero sentimiento es esa percepción de optimismo en las calles. Tal vez algo fuertes las imágenes por eso ahora tb nos acompaña el triunfo con Lucho horna.

En ese deporte tan hermoso sonó el nombre del Perú.

Además Sofía Mulánovich también alzó la bandera peruana con un título mundial.

Ya denunciaron a una vedette. ¿Y si fuera una perrada? Es decir si el protagonista fuera un can, ¿qué sucedería? Hoy un blog luce una escarapela por el día del a patria, pero hace un año esto era lo que publicaba la girasol.

Y entre las opiniones emitidas por perros y gatos tennemos algunas como:

Dark Euridice said…

Jsajaja, pero que suerte que te permitieron jugar con la bandera! o.. es que lo hiciste sin permiso?

o esta otra

Gatote said…

Mhffff… una perrita muy patriota, no? Ojalá no hayas roto la bandera, esas cosas son muy delicadas.
Veré si en septiembre me prestan la bandera para hacer algo divertido para mis humanos… sin enredarme antes.

Como vemos a los animales no les parece ofensa a la patria esta actitud. Una opinión a tener en consideración.

A la gente de Adidas hay que enviarles el escudo nacional… rojo puro no es… A pesar de la fémina, ¿alguien la reconoce?

El buen Jamiro en Seven Days in Sunny June. Peruanísimo

¿Alguien conoce la historia de cómo tiene la chaqueta de Perú? ( Jamiro a ver si te portas )

Feliz 28 a todos, peruanos sobre todo.

FIESTAS PATRIAS DE LA COMUNIDAD PERUANA EN VIZCAYA

La nueva Directiva de la Asociación de APERVIZ, nos ha comunicado que estas Fiestas Patrias se celebrarán en el Parque Artasa cerca a la Rotonda de Romo en el Hueco, este domingo 27 de Julio a partir del medio día.

Esta celebración contara con espectaculo de Danzas, comida entre otros y estan invitados todos los miembros de nuestra comunidad.

La biblioteca Damián de Molokai, invita a la comunidad de Las Ánimas, al taller de baile que ser realizará del 01 al 25 de julio en la Parroquia. Dicho taller se implementa con motivos de celebrar las fiestas patrias del Perú. El taller estará encabezado por la bailarina de marinera trujillana, Mariela Morales, y su elenco, quienes con entusiasmo acogieron el proyecto presentado por el cuerpo de la biblioteca, quienes gestionaron, este taller para ser impartido de manera gratuita, solo apelando a la voluntad del elenco. El taller será realizado los días martes, jueves y sábados de 6:30 pm a 8:30 pm.

Bibliodm, se complace en invitar a la comunidad a la proyección de la película sobre la revolución de Túpac Amaru, precursor de la independencia del Perú, a realizarse el sábado 19 de julio en la sala de la biblioteca Padre Damiánd e Molokai, a las 4:00 pm. Se agradece de antemano su asistencia.

Bibliodm, abre las inscripciones para el concurso de composiciones de obras literarias de autores peruanos. En homenaje al 187 aniversario de la independencia del Perú, la temática es la lucha por la independencia, batallas, próceres y precursores, héroes anónimos en la lucha. Está dirigido a la comunidad de Las Ánimas, como a los estudiantes del colegio José María Arguedas 2068, la inscripción es gratuita, y serán recibidos hasta el día 25 de julio; tendrá como jurado a los profesores del colegio JMA 2068, al escritor Martín Huertas, al abogado Carlos Cadillo y el cantante de folklor Angel Arellano.

El Perú es una mezcla de todas las razas. Somos una cultura heredera de Caral, Chavín, Nazca, Moche, Ichma, Wari, Chinchas, Chachapoyas, Chimú, Chancas, Caxamarcas, Huancas, Incas, etc. que en medio de sucesos violentos vamos mezclándonos con españoles, africanos, alemanes, chinos, japoneses, árabes, etc. y vamos formando una nueva fisionomía cultural y racial. Siendo el centro y pilar de este proceso la cultura andina quechuahablante, que como el gigante dormido durante siglos empieza a despertar y con sus poderosos brazos rodea con un gran abrazo a todos sin distinción, enseñando a pagar al mal por bien. Enseñando a zapatear y danzar, a comer papa, choclo y ají, a vestirse con colores propios del ande y de la selva, a escuchar con placer el arte musical de todos los rincones del Perú.

Se va descubriendo todos los secretos que teníamos guardados y otros países envidian.  Todo el mundo conoce al PERU GENEROSO, porque amamos la vida, amamos la naturaleza. Empezamos a conquistar al mundo con nuestras riquezas, sabores, sonidos, colores, olores, valores y sentimientos propios del Perú.

Ya está pasando el tiempo en que “nos hacían los cholitos”, ahora vienen apareciendo “cholitos” con conocimientos científicos, con capacidades que nada tienen que envidiar al extranjero y con mucho orgullo van ganando palmo a palmo nuevos lauros para el Perú. Con un poco más de amor al Perú. Nuestro país será GRANDE, SOBERANO, MÁS JUSTO Y MAS HERMOSO.

Este 28 de julio es un aniversario más del nacimiento de la República Peruana. Un abrazo a todos nuestros hermanos peruanos que viven en todos los rincones de nuestro territorio patrio y en todos los rincones del mundo.

¡¡VIVA EL PERU!!… ¡¡CARAJO…. !!

HIMNO NACIONAL DEL PERU Interpretado por el tenor Juan Diego Flores

MI PERU Hermanos Zañartu

CONTIGO PERU Augusto Polo Campos

Y SE LLAMA PERU Augusto Polo Campos

MI LINDO PERU

EL CONDOR PASA

SOY PERUANA Princesita de Yungay

ESTA ES MI TIERRA

VIVA EL PERU

CANTO A MI PERU - GIGANTE DOMINÓ orq

ESTA ES MI TIERRA

VIVA EL PERU Y SERENO. Alicia Maguiña

PERU QUERIDO - Alfonso Gutierrez Trujillo

PERU QUERIDO - Jilguero del Huascarán

YO SOY PERU

ME SABE A PERU - Grupo Niche

SOY PERUANA - Chinita del Peru. (huaylash antiguo)

PERUANA SOY - Los Pariaks

SOY DEL PERU SEÑORES - Julie Freundt

BANDERITA PERUANA - Los Jaiber’s del Perú (Carnaval de Cajamarca)

GRUPO ANDANZA - PERUANITA

PERUANITA BONITA - Lucila Campos

July 28th is the Peruvian Independence Day, and I’m looking forward to the celebrations later this month According to Jose Rivas, my guide from a few days ago, preparations for the festivities begin at the start of the month. In a show of patriotism or national can-do or something, the government gives some of the country’s poorest money to repaint their homes, he said, explaining why some of Lima’s slums are very colorful this time of year.