BEST Roughing It EVER

After five hours in the air, we approach the Lima airport. As the plane came to a halt, the passengers exploded in a unanimous uproar of applause. Through utter confusion and delirium from our three hours of partial-sleep, we looked at each other and inquired, “Is this unusual that we landed safely???” Once realizing we were no longer in the Miami airport, we too, joined in the joyful cheer.

After collecting our backpacks from the baggage carousel, we stopped by the ATM to tock up on the Soles, the local currency. If you work in the Peruvian tourist industry, I imagine you are instructed to look for certain characteristics in what would be deemed a “quality tourist:”

1. Backpacks. Those rich yuppies/college students always looking for “culture.”
   
2. ATM use. Especially immediately after arriving.
   
3. Ladies
   
   

We seemed to pass the test for each of these, and were thus, welcomed to the country with open arms. Literally.

Taxi cab drivers for as far as the eye could see began yelling “Mujeres, taxi?” And, as tourists, we basically look for one thing in a taxi driver . . . who asks first.

Alejandro won our business and soon our hearts. After he placed our backpacks into the trunk, we were off to the hotel, or so we thought. Turns out, at 7AM when Kimmmm & Emmmm want to catch up on much needed sleep, Alejandro had something else in mind. We careened around corners at 90 kmph, and came to a screeching halt when spotting a car across the street that had flipped off a cliff moments before. We stop, remarked, “Que horrible!” and returned to the tour. Alejandro commented on the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Several times. And before long, we find him pulling off to the side so that we can experience firsthand the beauty of una bonita y grande ocean. Then, we stopped at a park. And to watch fishermen. And to watch surfers. And to walk a dock. And climb the rocks that led to the ocean. And to take pictures with Alejandro. And, ironically, to fill up the gas tank to make it to the requested destination.

Eventually, we make our way to the Marriott, but not before Alejandro inquires of our preference regarding a very pressing factor about Peru—chicos de norte Americana o chicos de sud Americana (that’s Spanish for “do we prefer North American boys or South American boys?”) To which we reply, “TODOS chicos.” (All boys)

So there we were, ready to begin roughing it at one JW Marriott. Roughing it began when the bellhop carried our hiking backpacks as though he was picking up precious jewels. After checking in, taking a catnap on the pillowtop mattresses, we headed over to lounge at the rooftop pool, overlooking the Pacific. We spent the next few hours in the sun, then headed down to the beach, where there was an impromptu airshow taking place. The airshow had to compete with another show that captivated the crowds . . . a Big Band performance by the US airforce (whaaaa???). Now, we knew Peru to be a developing country, but we never took that to mean developing musically. So we stood around watching fighter jets and listening to “Helllooooo Dolllyyyy.”

Finally we were ready for a decent meal. Here is one of the reasons we have already come to love Peru: We shared an appetizer of yucca, a bottle of wine, and we each ordered grilled salmon, and our bill came to $20/person.

Yes, we truly are roughing it.

Tomorrow we head off to the Amazon where we are fearful our accommodations will not be as luxurious.

Buenas noches,

Keeeem-bur-leee y Ayy-mee-leee

P.S. There’s no time difference here.