¿Cómo se Llama?

¡Hola!

It is my first day in Peru and I'm sitting in a Starbucks...¿ironic no?

The other volunteers (three of them, all in their early twenties) tell me that Sundays are lazy--we are left to our own devices and means of entertainment. I decided to follow along to the local Starbucks (the closest place with free wi-fi) to surf the web, and do "as the CSS volunteers do." There is ambient jazz playing...we're sitting on an open-deck on the second floor. It is so warm here, and really humid, but today there is a nice breeze moving through. The sound of car horns and ambulance sirens and a general hum is background.

Everything is Peru is low to the ground. The skyline is relatively flat and doesn't stretch much higher then the trees. Most things are walled or gated off...there are beautiful intricacies in the gates though, and the streets are mixes of yellows and blues and greens. There are posters and billboards all over the city, most of them have the presidential candidates smiling. The election is next month.

My flight was long. I think I may have developed a blood clot and a prolonged kink in my back from slouching over the arm rail, trying to find a comfy position. I sat in the very back of the plane, with a Spanish couple. The women was bubbly and round and spoke English well. The man was quiet and gentle and attempted to converse with me, which involved a lot of me looking dumb-struck and laughing nervously. They helped me with a few spanish phrases.

The drive from the airport to the CSS house was a blur. We drove through 4 districts. The drivers here are insane (loco). There seems to be no rules, yet everything flows and moves together--there is a lot of honking, people pulling in front of one another with no more than a millimeter between cars. My foot was in spasm, mock braking. The man that met me at the airport was wonderful. He was so animated and pointed out Lima as we sped through. Our conversations were a game of charades and a dance between my broken Spanish and his broken English. He told me that there was a salsa concert going on near the airport, that the performers were really old, around when he was a boy--he then proceeded to demonstrate by hunching over and holding an imaginary cane. His laugh was infectious-herty and full. "Divertido! gracioso!!"[Funny! Funny!!] he would cried, slapping the stering wheel. I had fun.

I crept into my room around 2:00 AM. It's set up a lot like a college dorm, with two bunk beds and two dressers. The room was sticky and the sound of cars and people outside drifted through the large open window. I don't know when I fell asleep. I only remember looking up at the slats of wood above my head, feeling like I was in a dream. not real.