The Amazon

We booked flights to Rurrenbaque (some name, ey?), Bolivia- the most common city to travel to to see the Amazon jungle in this dirt-cheap country. Tom and Jovi booked just one-way tickets because they have plenty of time whereas I needed to be back in Lima by May 1 (actually the 2^nd but I like to give myself grace periods in case of unexpected twists and turns in traveling). My two-way ticket cost me 1300 Bolivianos (about $194). We took the last three seats available on the 3:15pm flight to Rurrenbaque, none of us sitting next to each other. In the airport, I sat in a corner to charge my computer and I met an exceptionally handsome Israeli named Noi who had been stricken with salmonella in Bolivia but still had the enthusiasm to chat with me with his gorgeous green eyes. He told me where not to eat in Rurrenbaque, recommended a hostel with a huge, refreshing pool which would come in handy with the 3000% humidity in the Amazon as well as a business card for a travel agency where we could book our jungle tours. Luckily Noi told me that normally the agent sells the trips for 900 Bolivianos but that they give Israelis a price of 600 so I should be sure to mention that an Israeli sent me. The thirty minute flight on the 18 person airplane was uneventful and humid. The plane consisted of one aisle with single seats on either side. At the very back of the plane was a row of three seats. I sat in the middle. We landed on a cement strip in a cleared piece of land surrounded by jungle. I exited the plan walking towards the direction of the designated bus which would take us into town and I stepped on something squishy. I looked down to find a big pile of poop under my left shoe but the squishiness had come up and curled on top of my big toe. Yum. The group of 40ish people standing around me all looked up as a response to my squeel and all I could do was laugh. I frustratingly boarded the bus with Tom and Jovi and we rode into the small town of Rurrenbaque, Bolivia. We checked into the recommended hostel named Ambaibo and after paying for our first night, Tom and I let Jovi and her salmonella-infected body rest up while we booked our trip into Pampas- an area of the Amazon which is more of a wetland infested with easily-spotted wildlife rather than the actual jungle which has abundant wildlife, but is hidden by the thick greenery. We wanted to see more wildlife which could be spotted in Pampas. For six hundred Bolivianos (amigo didn't even try to get us for 900 since I mentioned that an Israeli had sent us) we signed up for a three day adventure with some trekking to include room, board, and transportation for the entire trip which comes out to $89.55- holler! The evening was spent in the swimming pool and trying to stay cool. I got out of the shower and was still profusely sweating. It was not sexy and I was feeling miserable. Upon returning from dinner, Tom discovered a mammoth moth in the room which was an issue with Jovi who had a traumatic experience as a child and would rather sleep outside in the wilderness of the Amazon than in the room with a moth the size of her hand. Tom, with the amount of love he has for his girlfriend of three years proceeded to chase the moth out by strategically throwing socks at the furry creature whose wings made the same sound as a bird when it flew. After gently striking the bug so as to send it out of the room, I would switch the light in hopes that the moth would find its way to the light shining through the door from the outside. After twenty minutes, about eleven sock-tosses and a few screams, we reached success and decided to allow the freakishly large insect to remain right outside of our door. The work was worth it as we slept peacefully (but not sweat-free). 

We woke up at 7:30am to have breakfast by 8am to be at the travel agency by 8:30am, ready to leave at 9am sharp. After locking up our bags in the storage room at the agency, we were instructed to ride in the jeep with a different agency's group because of a lack of space. Our three hour jeep ride was like something you'd see in the movies; dust all around from the path for cars cleared from what was probably the home of hundreds of thousands of animals and the occasional jerky breaking from the line of wild cows (and sometimes sheep) crossing the road. Our car consisted of me- the designated American, an Israeli couple on their honeymoon, the Kiwi couple, another couple consisting of an Australian and an English girl who met while on a work and travel visa in Canada, and the only other single person- a lovely girl from Iceland. We arrived at the Rio Beni (Beni River) with sore tushies and Tom and Jovi and I went to join the initial group we were scheduled to leave with only to find out that there wasn't room in the boat. We were passed off again to a completely different tour guide, staying with the group of people from our jeep ride. Annoyed that we didn't get to stay with our group, we scoffed on over to our new assignment and were immediately greeted by our guide, Negro. Negro introduced himself to me, praising my beauty and I shook his hand noticing that he as sans index finger on his right hand. I made it my goal to warm up to Negro and find out what the heck happened to his digit. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spotted something moving in the water and exclaimed while pointing with my still-attached index finger. Negro was pleased to tell us that what we saw were dolphins and that there were plenty more to see. We helped Negro load the boat with supplies and he made sure to tell me that the two cases of beer were for just us two. This was the beginning of Negro's massive crush on me and it only got better. The following three hours were adrenaline-filled as we cruised down the river in a wooden boat equipped with uncomfortable metal chairs which wasn't noticeable while observing the incredible wildlife. Occasionally we'd stop to see a jungle bird in a tree, turtles sitting on a branch, a crocodile on the river bank, and when we got closer to our campsite- howler monkeys! Negro maneuvered our boat up to a tree where he spotted some monkeys and he grabbed a banana from his sack, extended his arm to a branch, and we watched in amazement as four monkeys ran down the branch to Negro's hand (minus one finger) and proceeded to eat the banana! As Negro gave everyone a turn to feed the monkeys in their natural habitat, our sneaky furry friends devised a plan to distract us with their cuteness while another hopped onto the boat and stole a banana from Negro's knapsack! Negro shouted at the monkeys which didn't phase them and Tom reached behind his seat to shoe them away. We approached the campsite which has been built above ground for two reasons; rainy season and the carnivores reptiles that live in the water. Upon arriving, we were greeted by a group of monkeys in the trees. While marveling at their greatness, one the monkeys threw a bottle of mayonnaise from one of the highest branches that they had stollen just the day before! Luckily the bottle didn't hit anyone. We were shown to our rooms which were simple, muggy, and conveniently equipped with mosquito nets over each bed. While we waited for dinner's preparation, Negro introduced us to Pepe- a Black Cayman who lives in the river stationed under the kitchen ready for leftovers to be dropped to the ground. Negro attached a chicken foot to a string, attached to a stick and tried to lure Pepe, the three meter Cayman onto the ground for educational purposes. I climbed down from the platforms which was the only thing preventing Pepe from snacking on the body part of his choice (probably more than just an index finger). Well Pepe wasn't having it- all we got was some movement but he stayed in the water. I don't blame him. Dinner was served at 6:30pm and after I scarfed down the rice and salad, I had to leave the dining area because I was dripping with sweat. I walked over to a lookout built high above the water where I could cool off (but not before covering myself with bug spray) and watched the sunset in a state of shock that I was in the freaking Amazon in Bolivia. After the sun had set, Negro instructed us to get back in the boat and to bring our flashlights. We were going alligator sight-seeing looking for the red reflection in their eyes when a light is shone into their faces. We spotted about eight and next thing we knew, Negro was maneuvering our boat into some branches and he had a baby alligator in his hands! Negro proceeded to explain the difference between alligators, crocs, and caymans with the ladder being the most aggressive. He showed us the membrane over the baby's eyes which keep their balls (eyeballs...haha) moist and cool while they bake in the sun and sleep. We got to see its teeth and our fearless guide showed us how to tell the difference between males and females. I was beginning to think that I was pleased that we got pushed into a different tour group because this Bolivian jungle tour guide has had the same job for 22 years and really knows his stuff. His passion for the jungle really shone through. By the way- not only does Negro speak Spanish and English, he is fluent in Hebrew from working with so many Israelis for the last 22 years! Dude knows more Hebrew than me- including all the bad words. We returned to camp and I played a few rounds of Rummy with Hagid- my new Israeli bff and an Australian with dreadlocks down to the middle of his back. Hagid and I ended up talking about being Ashkenazi (her husband, Oded is Sephardic) and we compared the different types of traditional foods we eat as Eastern European Jews that Sephardic Jews don't eat. We talked about cholent, tzimmis, what we're allowed to eat on Pesach and Hagid was shocked at the fact that we eat matzah balls (Hagid had no idea what that was so luckily I knew the word kneidelach) every Shabbat. She taught me a recipe for borscht and asked if I eat jelly soup (which I think is P'cha?) I had never had such a discussion with an Israeli and it felt rather comforting to be in her presence. It even made me feel 'more Jewish' to know that I celebrated Shabbat every Friday night with my family whereas Hagid remembers one incident in her home where she had family visiting and her father had to call a Rabbi to confirm how to properly conduct kiddush. Hagid could count on her ten fingers the number of times she had been to synagogue for shabbat compared to the every Saturday of my childhood from as far back as I can remember until I left for college being spent in shul. Hagid and Oded were impressed with my traveling to Israel twice and the fifty or so words I could recite in Hebrew including 'where is the bathroom' (but not being able to understand a response). After several card games and lots of laughs, I headed to my bed for a good night's rest. I crawled onto my mattress which mostly felt like a wooden platform, sprayed myself down with repellent, and shut my eyes. I woke up to the sound of pouring rain at an unknown hour of the night and had a hard time getting back to sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, it was bright outside and I could hear the monkeys making noises- probably fighting over more bottles of mayo. After breakfast, we loaded into the boat with our bathing suits and cameras wrapped in plastic bags from the high volume of rain to go swimming...with dolphins...pink dolphins. Yea I know right? We zoomed down the river and arrived at our spot to find three other tourist boats so Negro took us to another site. We arrived and Negro instructed us to exit the boat and jump in the water. We couldn't tell how deep it was, but because it was the hang-out grounds of some dolphins, we knew there were no predators because otherwise there would be no dolphins. Everyone got in the water which was warmer than the rain and quite refreshing and after a minute or so, we heard screams from the English girl who clearly felt something swim up against her feet. One by one someone would exclaim that they felt something and usually a moment later, we'd see a dolphin swimming about in the general vicinity of the strike. They also loved to play. They'd swim up to someone, mostly Tom who they seemed to show the most affection, and splash around with their tails. It was awesome! I didn't get to take pictures because of the rain but i'll have the memory for life. After almost an hour with the dolphins, we returned to camp to shower and change. While resting up in between our next adventure, I was walking around and hear a loud noise-almost like a monster. The Australian and I walked over to the swampy area built above ground to examine the sounds to discover two alligators. We called the group over and I went to fetch Negro and my camera! I came back in a hurry although walking with caution because the wooden plats that are about one foot in length have no railings. I wobbled over to the group and watched as Negro climbed down from the platform- eight feet above the ground, onto the wet land of the swampy patch slash mini pond. Negro approached the wild yet sort of domesticated (I mean how domesticated can an alligator be?) reptile and informed us that we were in the presence of Antonio Banderas. Negro looked up and said 'Lorena, ven' which means 'Lauren, come.' I looked around for Lauren hoping he didn't mean me and remembered I was the only Lauren. Shit. I swallowed my fear reminding myself that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and walked around to the ramp and made my way over to Negro who was standing over the just-shy-of two meter cold-blooded carnivore. Negro grabbed my hand we slowly reached towards Antonio's head. There was nothing preventing Señor Banderas from taking off my index finger or the Negros hand. I could feel the oxygen moving through his nostrils as our hands surpassed his eyes. I touched his forehead and watched as the membranes on his eyeballs moved back and forth. I screeched, Negro scolded me for yelling, and Antonio turned around and headed in the opposite direction away from the noisy and tasty-looking person. While I ruined it for the group, Negro maintained his love for me and we did end up spending nearly ten minutes learning about the alligator. We all reunited at the boat for our next outing- fishing! Not just any fishing- piraña fishing. Our trusty tour guide brought us to the piraña infested area of the river and passed out our fishing gear- fish hooks attached to fishing line attached to a stick. We placed pieces of raw cow meat on the hooks and made sure to cover the point because the fish have learned to avoid to metal points of death. The nine of us dropped our fishing string into the piraña-infested water and after just two minutes, Brandon, other stray and other American from Arizona whom we picked up caught a fish! about nine minutes later, I caught a piraña! A big one too, the size of my hand. Negro walked over on the wobbly, yet seemingly unsinkable boat to show us the sharp teeth capable of ripping off a chunk of flesh if it grabs onto a finger (watch out Negro!). The next fish was caught by me! But this time a sardine which Negro sliced up for more bait. Next three fishies- Negro. Then the Australian caught a fish, then me again with #3 fish but #2 piraña. Negro caught five more and to wrap it all up, Oded caught a teeny tiny little fish. Every was shocked with my skill. I guess i'm just cut throat when it comes to jerking the hook through the mouth of a predator. A few times people brought fish out oft he water on hooks, but with the flapping, if you don't pull it in to the boat  immediately, they escape back into the water! We went back to camp with twelve pirañas that the chefs would sauté in vegetable oil and lightly sprinkled with salt. Our recently caught-from-the-Amazon piraña dinner (on top of the pasta already on our tables in the sauna-like dining room) was tasty and very soft, reminded me of sea bass. We went to bed pretty early, but not after celebrating the 25th birthday of the girl from Iceland whose name I cannot pronounce. 

Upon waking up in the morning and putting on my swamp boots, I headed to breakfast which was scrambled eggs, bread rolls , butter, jam, and fresh papaya and pineapple. We boarded the boat and went to our destination where we would go anaconda hunting. Yup. Twenty minutes down the river we climbed out of the boat and walked on shore into the swamplands. We spread out in a line and proceeded to march through the mud looking for slithering snakes. Negro plowed ahead and I slowed down because my sock-less feet inside the swampy, sweaty, and humid boots were beginning to form blisters on the pinky toes, Achilles tendons, and big toes. After an hour and now experiencing sever suffering, I turned to Jovana who was not far from me, also moving slowly because of the attack of the unforgiving mosquitos she was now experiencing at rapid fire. We gave each other the nod of approval to head back. Just as we turned around, we heard shouting from the tour group just ahead of us (who were in reality behind us) 'anaconda! anaconda!' We rushed over the 300 meters of swamp and arrived with the tour guide holding the two meter snake with one hand firmly on its head and the other on it's tail. One by one, as we shouted, the other members of our group came to the site to examine the incredible species of snake. Negro finally showed up after trekking back from what seemed like two kilometers from moving at such a ridiculous pace. He knows exactly what he's looking for and how to examine the path he's taking. We all took turns holding the snake and snapping photos with it around our necks, but not after washing out hands in the mud to get rid of the repellent which is harmful for the snakes. We headed back to the campsite where we docked to take the boat back to our site to pack and get ready to begin our trip back. We ate a big lunch consisting of tons of side salads and deliciously roasted chicken. After lunch I quickly packed went to find Negro to give him a tip for showing me such a good time. I handed him 50 Bolivianos and gave him a hug. He made sure to hold me real tight. I then went up to the lookout where I had watched the sunset the night before to watch the river and Negro showed up after just a minute or so. He grabbed my face with his hands and said that he wanted to give me something and leaned in, puckered up, and closed his eyes! I pulled my face back and used my right hand to push away the 50 something year old man with nine fingers and cut my hand on the machete in his hand! Luckily I had my tetanus vaccine but I still started to bleed. Negro took his finger across my booboo wiping the blood away. Negro told me to be careful, kissed the top of my sweaty head, and walked away. Gross. We boarded the boat for the trip back which was peaceful and full of wildlife! We spotted five turtles sitting up on a log, two crocs, and three capybaras. Google the latter. Yea. When we arrived where the jeeps would pick us up for the ride back, we posed for a group picture. When my camera came up last in the group's, the photographer counted to three and on 'three', Negro kissed me on the cheek. Wonderful. We hopped in the jeep and rode back. A little over an hour into the trip back, we got to an extremely muddy area in the road where there were two other jeeps stuck and making very little progress. Our driver floored it and made it through without slipping and sliding too much. There had been huge storms the night before which had left the roads nearly undrivable. We approached two more large sections of muddy road along the way and had to pick up one tourist whose jeep was stuck in the mud and he had a flight just two hours later. That was a squishy ride. Luckily the kid made it back just in time for his flight. Tom, Jovi, and I checked into a much cheaper hostel without a pool, scrubbed our bodies down and went out for dinner. I scarfed down my dinner because I forgot bug spray and was being eaten alive (let along dripping sweat) so I went back to the hostel to lay on bed without moving a muscle hoping I could bring my body temperature down to 120 degrees. I made it an early night since I had a flight scheduled for the morning back to chilly La Paz. My morning flight was uneventful and short. I shared a taxi with a handsome ginger German from the airport to the bus station and I booked a ticket to Arequipa for 125 Soles. I had 3 hours to kill at the bus station so I went to get some lunch and eventually boarded our bus at 3pm. I sat next to William, a very attractive Brasilian musician traveling to Lima for a few gigs. We talked the entire way in Spanish during our red-eye bus trip (the only language we could communicate in, but neither of our native languages) and shared the scarves and wool socks from my luggage because our trip was absolutely freezing! We'd occasionally giggle at the man snoring like nothing I had ever heard before, and wave at the baby in front of us who seemed to deal with the cold temperatures better than the adults sitting behind him. After what seemed like 20 hours, but really only 14, William and I arrived in Arequipa. We hugged goodbye and exchanged information so we could see each other in Lima before my flight home. I hopped in a taxi and asked to be driven to a hostel about a block from The Point Arequipa because I wanted something low-key and without a bar so I could rest. My #1 choice was booked-up and I was too exhausted to go anywhere but The Point so I walked the block and checked in to the nearly empty hostel. I was so beyond tired and didn't get to sleep until the sun came up. I rested up the next day and caught up with friends just before booking a flight from Arequipa to Lima at 8am the next morning. Again, my flight was uneventful and just over an hour. While I paid a bit more for a flight, it was well worth it considering a bus from Arequipa to Lima is 18 hours. I'd rather pay for the comfort and the curtailed travel time. I checked into to a non Point hostel, again, to rest up without the noisy bar. I paid for a shared room but was alone so it was just like having a private room. I walked over to The Point to say hello to all my friends but when I got there, the place was nearly empty. Come to find out, it was Peruvian Labor Day so the important people I wanted to say to weren't around. It was funny- when I rang the doorbell, someone came to the door and spent at least a minute interrogating me. She even asked me to wait in the lobby while she fetched Señora Tina. The new girl obviously hadn't heard how famous I was. Amiga hesitated to let me in but i didn't really give her a choice and plowed straight down the hallway to the garden to see who was working in the kitchen. I said hi to the few people I recognized and continued on to Miraflores to run some errands. I made it an early night and woke up in the late morning to make my way to Hugo y Luz's house to say hello, goodbye, and thanks for everything. Later that day I had dinner with a girl named Rosie who I met through a friend here in the States. Rosie was in town for a conference so we got together in Miraflores. That night I went to The Point with a few friends for some drinks then out to the disco. Just like old times, I found myself awake until the sun came up and I crashed hard before I had to be at the airport at 10pm. Things went smoothly in Peru. Come to find out, the woman sitting next to me on my flight had never been on a plane before and didn't speak English so I assisted her when the attendants came around for drinks and breakfast. Ana was very appreciative and thanked me for staying so calm as she was nervous about flying. When we landed in Atlanta, I welcomed her to the United States and helped her fill out the immigration card which didn't have a Spanish translation. I walked around during my layover to stretch my legs and try to stay awake so as to not miss my connecting flight. I boarded the plane and noticed that the seat next to me was still empty on our supposed full flight. An attendant came over to me, handed me an alcoholic drink coupon and said 'act surprised.' Confused by his actions, I said 'woohoo! thanks man!' The attendant told me 'not yet' and as I looked up, I saw my Dad walking down the aisle of the plane! Was I dreaming? I unbuckled, scooted out of my row, and ran up to one of the people I had missed the most while I was in South America; Stan THE Man. Then I started crying tears of joy. Everyone around me wanted to know who this creepy man was so I assured them it was just my daddy. Stan was visiting a friend in the midwest and had coordinated with Franny to fly into the same airport on the same day so she could make just one trip. Next thing he knew, he was able to make a reservation for not only the SAME flight, but in the seat next to me! We had a lovely chat the whole way home and were greeted by Hariel in baggage claim. Overall, my travel home was easy and I didn't accidentally leave any fruit in my luggage so customs was a breeze. I am so fortunate to have had such a wonderful experience during my travels. There simply aren't enough words to describe my gratitude towards everyone I met along the way for contributing to my life adventure.

Thank you for reading my blogging/journalling/story regurgitation.

And lastly, i'd like to dedicate this series of entries to my parents who support me in everything that I do. I love you guys.

Emma

Jovi, Tom, and I are beginning to wrap up our travels in La Paz which has mostly consisted of shopping. We have been holding out on a lot of past shopping opportunities because of how cheap we were told Bolivia is. For example- the first sweater made of alpaca wool was 75 Soles- $28.30 that I bought in Lima from that cute lady Sarah who I went back to visit several times. Tom and Jovi each bought pure alpaca sweaters for 80 Bolivianos yesterday which comes out to be $11.76. I wasn't necessarily ripped off back in Lima, prices are just significantly lower in Bolivia and the more you buy, the better deal you can get.

This morning I was sitting in the lobby/reception area of our predominantly Israeli hostel waiting for my computer to charge while I tried to illegally stream my internet connection from the hostel we checked into when we first arrived here on Friday. No success, so I began to watch an episode of The Wire on my laptop. After about thirty minutes Juliana strolled in with her one year old asking if I had changed my mind about completing my entire head with dreadlocks. I still am not ready (and wasn't at the time either) to have my entire head done but I agreed to four more. My Brasilian friend said that she would charge me even less this time because while she had a lot of business Friday night and Saturday, again, she was short on cash and needed to take care of some expenses for her kids. How could I say no to that!? I followed Juliana back to her apartment/hostel room she's been renting nightly for several months with her two kids and their father for her to make the next couple of additions to my mop of a curly head. I handed her the equivalent of $2.89 for her craftsmanship and the entire family walked me back to my hostel because they had plans to eat lunch at the restaurnat next door. I was thirty minutes later than I had said I would be back to meet Tom and Jovi but I couldn't stop the artist in her groove. I found a note on my bed letting me know that they were starving and couldn't wait any longer (which I totally understood- it was almost 2pm) so they decided to do some shopping and would meet me in the room at 3pm. I choose to do some more shopping for the final items on my shopping list so I went to El Mercado de Las Brujas to get my bargain on. I approached a hoarder-looking store, took a deep breath and entered with a smile. I am learning that the attitude in which you enter a store completely determines the person's willingness to give you better prices. I walked through the door and brought the sunshine with me exclaiming 'Buenos dias! Como esta?' to the 80 something silver-haired, short and stalky woman and she replied with the same greeting. I was in, in so many ways. I asked for the first item on my list which I have been unable to cross off; a Matero which is a special cup for drinking tea using whole leaves as opposed to using a tea bag. It comes with a decorative straw finished off with a sieve-type contraption to prevent tea leaves from being sucked through it. I asked for a price and was pleased with the charming woman's response of 38 but that she could do 35. I even helped her fetch some more natural maté cups from the bottom shelf, tucked away in a cubbord and could tell that the fragile woman was appreciative from the way she smiled at me and said 'gracias mamita.' I picked out the cup I wanted with excitement and a smile from ear to ear and told the cute little old lady that I wasn't finished shopping. This was music to her ear! She was enjoying my enthusiastic visit. I could tell she hadn't had such an excited visitor in some time. I asked where I could find her wool socks made from 100% llama fur and picked out a stylish pair in beige. I proceeded to pick out more goodies, and presents for my immediate family and my tab was racking up. I complimented each piece I picked up to examine before deciding to add it to my pile and while I was being watched, I could feel the appreciation for appreciating the Bolivian products in the woman's store. I bought five items from the wrinkly lady and we came to an agreement of 175 Bolivianos- $25.36. While thigns here are dirt cheap, I have learned to react to price announcements with shock as if I was being ripped off. Ultimately, I am paying pennies, but I need to stretch my pennies as far as possible. As the soft spoken woman was sorting out my change, I asked her what her name was. I told Emma my name, leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek- the custom greeting in South American countries, and said that it was very nice to meet her. Emma asked me where I was from and how much longer I would be in Bolivia. After telling Emma that I had just 11 days left, my eyes began watering. I can feel it all wrapping up but that the best moments of my travels are yet to come. Emma pointed to a stool covered with scarves and invited me to sit down. She started digging through some piles of clothing and pulled out a black plastic bag. Inside the bag was a binder filled with 500 or so sheets of paper. She set the binder on my lap, opened it, and flipped through the pages. The book on my lap was entitled 'Los Amigos de Emma' and each page had three separate sections for the new people she meets who buy things from her and who she becomes friendly with. I was beyond honored to write my name, nationality, email, and opinion of her store. She must have made over 1000 friends with all the filled-in pages she had to flip through to find me a clean space. I filled out my information and helped Emma pack it back away carefully. I could tell this book was special and that she didn't pull it out for just anyone. Emma then walked to another part of the store and asked me if I wanted a love statue. I said yes to support my new friend and asked how much they were. Offended, Emma told me nothing. She picked up the minature statue, sat back down across from me, and took mulitcolored thread and wrapped it around the couple embracing each other in the name of love. I asked for the significance of the traditional statue and she was honored to tell me that a love statue in the home is for money, health, and love. She told me to cup my hands and hold them out. Emma asked if I had a husband. I said no. Then she asked if I had a boyfriend. Again, no. A man in my life? Nope. I told her that I had been attracting bad men in my life and that I was waiting for someone worth my while and deserving of the love I have to give. While she approved of my plan, she told me that she couldn't believe that someone so beautiful didn't have a special love in her life. Emma placed the statue in my hands and chanted some words I couldn't make out. She opened a tin, grabbed some sugar and springled it over my hands then threw some in my mouth. My little old lady friend told me that I will have a great love in my life in the future and that he will be worth the wait. I cried tears of happiness and we embraced each other and exchanged kisses on one another's cheeks. I left feeling refreshed and ecstaticly pleased with my new and meaningful purchases. I walked back to meet Jovi and Tom who arrived at 3:30pm and we went to do more shopping for the last few items that they needed to pick up before going to the post office to mail everything to New Zealand. While it'll cost an arm and a leg to send, they paid close to dirt for everything they picked up. Tonight we're getting falafel for dinner and I couldn't be more exicted! It's been sucha great day.

Islas Flotantes

Tom, Jovi, and I walked around to a few agencies on the busy street where our hostel was as well as restaurants with the local (and boring) cuisine and venders with typical Bolivian souvenirs; clothing made of llama and alpaca wool and colorful indigenous accessories. After price comparing a few places we settled on the agency that had the happiest person who genuinely seemed to care about giving us a good time on our Islas Flotantes tour. One thing that our crew has noticed is that Bolivians are far less friendly as Ecuadorians and Peruvians who come out on top for being the nicest, friendliest, and most willing to help nationality. For example, I had exactly five Bolivianos in my pocket and wanted to buy some crackers for my upset tummy. I stopped at a convenient store, picked up a package of plain crackers, and asked how much they were. The middle aged Bolivian man told me seven. I looked at the coin in my hand and regrettably reported my lacking amount and asked what I could buy with five Bolivianos. The man became angry and raised his voice telling me that nothing costs five Bolivianos. I looked down at the pack of gum, picked it up and said 'even this?' The man flew his arms in the air and shouted at me again the same response as before as he walked away from me and left me by myself. I shouted back to him to have a nice day and walked out not even wanting to buy crackers anymore. I couldn't believe he didn't want to sell me anything but we've noticed that that's common behavior from Bolivians towards gringos. Anywho- in searching for our Islas tour, we knew that we wanted to see both of the main islands; Isla de la Luna and Isla del Sol which would most likely entail us having to spend the night on one of the islands because of the time it takes to travel by boat from island to island. Isla de la Luna (Island of the Moon) has one hostel but there is no electricity nor running water on the 100 person inhabited island where the locals try eagerly to sell their goods, and sometimes push to the point of annoyance until the tourists purchase souvenirs. We decided that with the information provided to us in terms of needing two days for both islands that a private tour would be best and would get us back to Copacabana by 4pm in order to retrieve our baggage at a reasonable time so we could catch the bus to La Paz- the capital of Bolivia at an even higher altitude than Copacabana. We were given a price of 900 Bolivianos ($130) for the tour which we thought was pretty expensive. Jovi didn't want to pay more than the equivalent of $100 which would include transportation to each of the islands (but not the return to base in Copa), a traditional Andean lunch on the small island, one night in a hostel with hot water (not always standard), dinner, then breakfast the following morning. We complained about high prices and we got the agency to drop it to 800. We still had our eye on 700 so we stuck with our stubbornness. Amelia, the young woman selling us our packages and discussing prices with another sales rep told us that she couldn't drop the price anymore and that 800 for three people for everything that was included was a very fair price. Wait a second. Eight hundred for all of us? This whole time we thought it was 800 Bolivianos per person! What a deal!! That came to $38 per person! When we realized what the true cost was, we reacted with amazement and thrill for such a great price. We shouldn't have reacted that way because suddenly the sales reps conveniently 'forgot' separate prices (like the charge for the private boat transportation and the private guides on both islands) that they 'didn't include' before and our price started going back up. Still we were going to pay pennies for this amazing outing so we didn't argue about the final price of 1,000 Bolivianos and they threw in an artesenial demonstration with an opportunity to make something- cool! 

We woke up Friday morning and made it to the agency right on time at 8am for an 8:30am departure. We took the 1.5 hour boat ride on Lake Titicaca to the floating islands. We first arrived at La Isla del Sol and dropped off the first group of passengers only visiting the big island. We took another hour ride to the small island on the gorgeous blue water and stared in amazement at the uninhabited islands around us and the snow-capped mountain tops in the distance which rose above the clouds. I had to remember to breathe steadily because the altitude was really affecting me. We arrived at the small island- Isla de la Luna and met up with our guide whose name I couldn't pronounce and he showed us around the ruins and the temples. Our guide didn't speak English so every once in a while I would do some translating for Tom and Jovi who could only understand about 25% of the guide's explanations. We knew this ahead of time and agreed to supporting a local who actually lives on the island. At one of the temples, we were bombarded by five indigenous woman holding hand-made trinkets shoving them in our faces saying 'compra compra' which means 'buy, buy.' These women have no shame. It's their goal, and ultimately their responsibility to make money for their families no matter what it takes nor how much they bother tourists and make them feel uncomfortable. I broke down and paid 50 Bolivianos for a handmade belt of sheep wool. It looks like a giant friendship bracelet. I tried on belt after belt and was disappointed that they were all too small. Each woman was shoving a belt in my face telling me to try theirs on hoping we'd find the slipper that fit. The pattern I really liked was too small and the owner called me fat. After I bought a belt from one of the less obnoxious women, I asked for a picture with all the ladies. The one who called me fat was so bitter that I didn't buy her belt that she refused to be in my picture! 

Lunchtime quickly approached us and we feasted on trout from the lake, hard boiled eggs, habas (a large, gas-producing bean indigenous to the region and grown on the island), boiled corn on the cob, boiled potatoes, fried eggs, and juice made from quinoa. Everything had been cultivated and or gathered from the island. We shared our lunch with the guide as we sat on chairs made from tree stumps and ate on a wooden table carved from a tree from the island. While we looked touristy, everything felt authentic. After lunch we slowly hiked up to the top of the island which is actually a mountain whose base was drowned by what is now known as Lake Titicaca so that it now comes across as an island. Our guide plowed ahead of us with his lungs of steel as we felt our asses getting kicked by the elevation. The difficult and steep climb was worth every painful breath because the views at the top were indescribably beautiful. We rested at the top and snapped some pictures before hiking down the other side and hopping into our private boat to make it to the big island. We arrived at the north side of the island at 4pm and were greeted by an eleven year old girl who is the daughter of the hostel owners where the travel agency had made arrangements to stay. She showed us to our room, then where the restaurant was where we were dine at our convenience. We rested in the afternoon and I sat with Jovi on the beach of the lake which could pass for a tropical ocean and watched the sunset as Jovi meditated. While Jovi sat in silence and concentrated on her yoga ritual, I observed the scenery and couldn't help but daydream about going home and running into my parents' arms as I greet them at the airport on May 4^th. I shed a few tears which were quickly dried by the wind and my laughter as I saw a pink pig trot by on the beach! Jovi finished up and we fetched Tom to go to dinner. We sat down in the tiny restaurant where we could see into the kitchen the head chefs- husband and wife. They cooked us the most delicious meal I had had up to that point. Chicken soup with noodles, perfect for my lingering cold, and pan grilled trout. Everything was so tasty and I made sure to tell man who initially greeted us in a rude manner. Just because someone is rude to me, possibly even unintentionally, it doesn't mean I have to treat them the same so I decided to spread some love, smiles, and peace. I got a smile out of the man and I think I made his week. We thanked the couple, stopped at a small convenient store to buy water for the next day and Tom picked up a 15 Boliviano ($2.20) bottle of rum and a box of apple juice which turned out to be a mixture of apple juice and soy milk- weird. Tom and Jovi drank some rum while I sat with them and a blanket up on the roof and we watched the stars. We had an early night as we were exhausted and needed to be ready to meet our next tour guide, Juan at 8am for breakfast. 

In the morning we dined on the roof with sliced bananas, bread rolls with strawberry jam, a scrambled egg, and tea/coffee. When we finished, Juan took us to the Isla del Sol museum where we saw archeological artifacts  from former tribes that had been found at the bottom of the lake providing evidence that the lake did not exist 2,500 years ago. After visiting the one-room museum, we went to watch the artesenial women construct a tapestry. We entered their living quarters and I heard some familiar squeaking sounds. Inside one of the women's rooms where she slept was a cage with six guinea pigs! I asked to see them and I was welcomed into the woman's room to see the future meals of the locals once fed enough to maximize plumpness. It made me miss Boris (and Bruno, may he rest in peace), my cuddly pet piggy back home. We were made to feel awkward once again with the woman waiting for us to buy something and we refrained, knowing that we would be able to buy all the chachkees we could (and couldn't) fit into our luggage/backpacks. After enough unbearable discomfort, we were escorted to our next location without having had the opportunity to make something artesianal- rip off! We then began our hike up to the top of the island. On the way we saw donkeys, llamas and pigs (oh my) and stopped every five or so minutes to take pictures of the gradually more and more beautiful scenery. We reached the highest point above the lake which is already 3,812 meters above sea level and I was breathless in more than one way. We took some 'on top of the world' pictures and climbed down the other side of the island to catch our nearly three hour boat ride back to Copacabana. The trip back was peaceful and serene and we took naps under the sun (with sunscreen). We even chatted with two American girls- one from Alaska and the other from Idaho, about the pricey visa to enter Bolivia! Upon arriving in town, we retrieved some things from our bags in the agency's office and grabbed dinner before our 6:30pm three hour bus ride to La Paz. Upon boarding our bus, Tom couldn't find his ipod after digging through the two possible bags it could have been in, he sprinted to our hostel where we had checked out over ten hours prior to see if by any chance it had been recovered from his room. He came back, ipod in hand which had been given to the owner's son as a present, and the battery had been exhausted. When Tom finally charged his ipod, he found that the little boy had some how changed the language to Japanese! My aisle seat on the bus that seemed like it was made for midgets was not only uncomfortable, but the fat man next to me had his arms folded the entire time which overlapped 1/4 of the way onto my body. I distracted myself by listening to my ipod and after two hours, the bus stopped and the fat man asked to get off. Everyone but six passengers exited the bus (including us three) and I noticed that we were at a body of water. The bus's engine turned back on and we began driving forward towards what I'm pretty sure was Lake Titicaca. We then drove onto a wooden ferry and proceeded to cross the Lake on a dodgy looking floating wooden raft, inside a bus! We kept looking at each other asking what the hell was going on and opening the windows next to our seats in case we started to sink and we needed to exit the bus via the windows to swim a shore. Luckily we didn't drown and we made it to the other shore just fine. It turns out that keeping people on the bus is too heavy for the floating device and it costs 1.50 Bolivianos to cross the Lake on a speedboat. Not only did we have a free ride, we left with a sweet story. The three hour bus ride turned into four when we were finally dropped off at 'the bus station' which was really just a sidewalk in the Cemetery district of La Paz- home to four million people. We made it to the first decent-sounding hostel that Jovi found in her travel book but it was significantly more expensive than what we knew we could find. The following two hostels we checked out (from recommendations of the previously denied hostel) were full to capacity. Fourth time's a charm because we were welcomed with warm smiles and checked in promptly. I found myself completely surrounded by Israelis. Turns out we checked into a predominantly Israeli hostel which was fine with me, and i'm sure just as fine with the attractive bundles of recent Israeli soldiers- yum! We couldn't find an open restaurant at 11:30pm on a Friday so we ended up with street food- fried egg sandwich with onions, tomato, mayo, and aji which is a hot pepper condiment. We went straight to bed and woke up a 9am to check out of the Israeli hostel and so we could check into a better hostel that we had visited beforehand that was full. We were guaranteed a room in the morning. After settling in, Jovi decided to do her morning meditation so Tom and I went in search of a patch with Bolivia's flag on it for Tom to add to his guitar strap. While in the shop with the patches, I tried on a jacket because it's freezing here and I only had a sweater. The jacket was a medium, as were the rest of the jackets in the man's homely shop and I let him know that it didn't fit because I am 'un poquito gordita' which means 'i am a little fat'- a term latin americans use loosely. The man responded with 'si' and Tom and I laughed hysterically that the man agreed! Too funny. Tom and I returned to our new hostel which is also not only filled Israelis, most of the doors to the rooms have mezuzahs! The three of us went to lunch and wandered into a Thai restaurant that also has Japanese and Indian food. Lunch was so good, contrary to traditional Bolivian food which we were warned about. For around $4 I got chicken coconut soup, a salad with homemade herbal dressing, hot green tea, and chicken masala, a traditional Indian dish. After paying our bill we walked over to the Mercado de las Brujas (witch's market) in search of cheap goodies! On the way to the market, a young artesian stopped us on the street showing us her jewelry but nothing really caught my eye. After we declined all of her many offers and began to part ways, I asked if she had any artisan friends who knew how to do dreadlocks because I decided to have a few more put in, gradually working on my process. Juliana, the Brasilian who has been living in Bolivia for 2.5 years knows! She said she would charge 30 (just over $4)Bolivianos per dread to do my hair tomorrow which was my free day while Jovi and Tom went on an intense mountain bike tour- something I can't physically do because of my semi-recent back surgery although a less intense ride would have been awesome. Because Tom is a cyclist, he wanted to do something challenging which I totally understood. Juliana was low on cash and said that she would only charge me 20 Bolivianos per hand-put-together dreadlock if I did it today (Saturday) because she was short on cash and needed to feed her two kids- daughter of six years and son 1 year, 3 months. How the hell could I say no to that!? I parted ways with Tom and Jovi who went to the Witch's Market to do their shopping for presents for friends and family and I went with Juliana to make some additions to my already 3/4 dreadlocked hair. Juliana and I had a marvelous time chatting and getting to know each other and after a few hours, she was finished! I got to meet her adorable, well-behaved children and their father, Luis who is Argentinian. I watched Luis hand bend silver around precious stones for the work that they sell together to support their family. As a parting gift, Juliana gave me a single feather earring that I was eyeing earlier when we first met in the street. It's not really my style, but it'll make a good gift. I met back up with the other 2/3 of my trio and we went to an arabic restaurant for dinner and got a sampler with falafel, kibneh, hummus, babganoush, spinach empanadas, skewers of both chicken and beef, tabuleh, some kind of ground beef sausage, and pita. We also got a pitcher of fresh lemonade, perfectly sweet and sour and enjoyed a delicious dinner! We walked around for a bit after dinner and bought some water and toilet paper (oh yea- you have to bring your own paper and soap to all bathrooms in Bolivia, both public and private!). I was exhausted and went to bed at 11pm to be woken up several times from the loud music playing from all sides of the hostel. I think the music was finally turned off at 4am but the shouting continued from the drunks who decided to go crazy Saturday night. Tom and Jovi woke up at 8am to prepare for their bike adventure and I chose to spend the day writing. Two hours into journaling, Juliana and her two kids came into the hostel to visit me and to eat lunch in the public restaurant called El Lobo- The Wolf. I sat and had lunch with my new friends and was amazed that both of her children ate the asparagus soup and that her six year old finished her plate of food. I had full conversations in Spanish for the first time with a child and it was a little bit intimidating! Juliana and the kids left as the little one was getting fussy and I laid down for a nap. Tomorrow night we'll probably catch a twelve hour bus ride south to Salar de Uyuni. I'm counting down the days until my flight...

Copacabana

Written Tuesday, April 17, 2012

And the adventures begin! Jovi (Yo-vee), Tom and I departed the hostel at 9:45pm on Monday to arrive at the bus terminal by 10pm so we could buy our bus tickets. The bus agency a few doors down from The Point Arequipa told Tom and me when we went to inquire about tickets that buses leave every 2 hours. We were also told that it isn't as safe to cross the border into Bolivia at nighttime so we figured with the 4 hour bus ride to Juliaca followed by the 45 minutes to Puno where we then needed to buy a separate bus ticket to Copacabana, Bolivia via crossing the border would get us to the border during daylight. We spent 15 Soles each ($5.59) to get us as far as Puno and the next bus was leaving in 15 minutes! We couldn't have unintentionally planned that any better. I was restless during the bus ride feeling anxious about what was going to happen to me in attempting to cross the border considering my illegal status in Peru. We arrived in Puno at 4:30am and bought tickets for the next bus trip- 3 hours from when we arrived. Our bus finally left at 7:45am, only 15 minutes late and I immediately fell asleep. I woke up 3 hours later to the sun on my face having arrived at the border. I was even more anxious with nausea, probably from both the 12,600 ft above sea level altitude and the status of my not officially nor legally being in an actual location. I was told (by the immigration officials in Arequipa) to go directly to the Bolivian border to get my stamp for entrance because going to the Peruvian side would result in a major fine and a penalty of not being able to return to Peru for one year. That wasn't an option because I have to go back into Peru for my international flight on May 4^th! I nervously walked into the office and nonchalantly handed my passport to the immigration official behind the desk. He flipped through it a few times looking more and more confused with each passing couple of seconds. He looked at me and asked me what the deelio was. I explained to him that when I left Ecuador, I received a stamp exiting the country, but that the bus never stopped for me to get my stamp in Peru. He then invited me back to his office. The man (whose name I never actually learned) asked me repeatedly what happened and he walked in and out of the office a few times asking his coworkers for advice. The man came back and asked for $135 for my visa fee (which they only charge Americans by the way...) and for the $1 per day penalty for staying illegally in Peru. The man took the $60 worth of penalties and put it directly into his pocket! The recently paid-off Bolivian (whom we'll call Amigo) official stood next to me and contemplated what we could do. After more consultations with his coworkers a plan was derived. Amigo explained to me that he would fennagle (spelling on fennagle?)a visa for my passport by giving me an entrance date for Bolivia of February 16, 2012 which was also the day I left Ecuador. This meant that my passport would look as if I went directly from Ecuador to Bolivia via airplane and had been in Bolivia ever since February 16, 2012. This was so illegal. Amigo then told me that I would have to wait 2 hours for the next tourism bus passing through from Bolivia to Peru so that I could then obtain my exit stamp from Bolivia and then enter Peru with the group. I would THEN have to come back at 8am in the morning to 'exit' Peru and re-enter Bolivia. What a headache! During the two hour wait, Amigo asked me if I had eaten to which I replied that I was too nervous and anxious to eat anything. He insisted that I accompany him to lunch and I knew that this was his way of flirting with me. I was not in the mood for so many reasons: I was tired and cranky having barely slept three consecutive hours and I just wanted to cross a freaking border to be in a country legally. We went to lunch and Amigo tried to get to know me. He asked me if I live near The White House, how many siblings I have and what I was doing in Peru. I wanted to be nice because Amigo was (illegally) helping me but at the same time I was not looking for a forty year old 5'6 Bolivian boyfriend fennagling government documents. He obviously didn't realize that he had now involved the United States. I paid for my own lunch and went back to his office just a two minute walk from the family-owned restaurant where lunch was served for 8 Bolivianos (just over $1) and I laid down on the connected chairs. Amigo must have offered his bed to me in the back room six times but I insisted I was comfortable on the plastic chairs. I was anxious to get this all resolved. Amigo proceeded to physically comfort me by placing his arm around my shoulder followed by placing his hand on my leg to point to my immigration card placed on top of my thigh- how convenient for him. I adjusted my positioning making it clear through my body language that what he was doing wasn't okay. Then the bus of tourists arrived just on time at 1:45pm. I obtained my exit stamp from Bolivia on my passport and walked the 500 meters to the Peruvian office. I anxiously handed my passport to the woman behind the window hoping she wouldn't question me. What I was doing was wrong but on paper it looked completely legitimate. I got my stamp and turned around with a huge sigh of relief, almost walking into a group of seven Israelis waiting in line for their entrance stamps into Peru. Hearing the Hebrew made me feel like 'my people' were with me in spirit making sure that everything would go smoothly. I then walked back to the Bolivian side, back to Amigo's office and let him know that everything went okay. We had discussed my options for what I could do after my legal entrance into Peru; I could stay the night in Peru, but at a dodgy, not-so-clean hostel for 15 Soles, or I could meet Jovi and Tom in Copacabana and pretend that I don't have my passport when the hostel asks to photo copy it. I chose option number two. The last step in this process is to return to the border in the morning to 'exit' Peru and get my re-entrance to Bolivia. Amigo told me that we should celebrate my success by going drinking and dancing tomorrow night. I said no thanks, that my friends and I are on a tight schedule and had a lot to do. I extended my hand to shake and thank Amigo and he began to lean in so I quickly darted out the door, bags in hand. I grabbed the first taxi I saw and took the eleven minute cab ride into town. I found a restaurant with wifi so I sat down to order a tea and pumpkin soup, checked my messages to find out where Tom and Jovi decided to stay and Skyped with Franny to let her know everything was okay (you know Jewish mothers). In checking in to Hostel Gabriel, I explained to the indigenously dressed woman that my friends were staying at her hostel and that I wanted to stay as well. She was thrilled. There was just one problem- I forgot my passport in La Paz. Apparently that wasn't an issue. She grabbed a key, walked me to my room, and that was it! I knocked on Tom & Jovi's door but they had gone out to get something to eat. I decided to take a shower. I walked to the shared bathroom to see a sink and a toilet seat that was rather wet- gross. But it wasn't pee. I looked up to find myself standing under the shower head, then saw the drain on the floor. I was IN the shower. That explains the watery toilet seat. I bathed, put on pjs (mind you it was 3pm) and began writing this entry. Tom and Jovi came back just 15 minutes later and I told them what happened. Tom, being the very intelligent 23 year old asked me a wonderful question; 'after receiving the faulty visa, why didn't you just come straight to Copacabana because according to your passport, you are now in Bolivia?' I was baffled. Tom was absolutely right. Why the hell didn't I question that? Amigo had something up his sleeve (and now in his pocket). I quickly became frustrated, but just as quickly forgave myself. I was exhausted, dealing with border officials 3 weeks before my flight back to The States, and sick (oh yea, I have had a nasty cold for 4 days. I was supposed to leave for Bolivia on Sunday but because I was feeling to icky, I decided to postpone for a day). I am looking forward to asking Amigo what the hell was up.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

My subconscious could feel the anxiety as I slept because I woke up several times in fear of sleeping through my alarm that was due to set off at 7:30am. The third time I woke up in fear of being late for my appointment at the border, it was finally light outside and 7:15am. Over the course of the next 15 minutes I closed my eyes and thought happy thoughts. I was worried that someone would ask to see my passport which was of illegal status. According to my passport, I was in Peru, but according to my physical location, I was in Bolivia. The illegality of everything had my stomach in knots. I put on a hat and completely different clothes from my adventures at the border yesterday so as to seem less obvious. I took the fifteen minute cab ride to the border and arrived at exactly 8am on the dot- just as Amigo had instructed me to do. I arrived at the border office to find the front door locked. Are you freaking kidding me? There were police browsing the gravel streets and I needed to be unseen. I am a tall, nearly blonde gringa who sticks out like a sore thumb. I spotted a mini mart next to the front door of the border control and browsed on over to ask what the deelio was. The man in his mid fifties told me that the office didn't open until 8:30am. Well then why the hell would Amigo tell me to come at 8!? I didn't want to know. I asked if I could browse around and spotted an essential that was on my shopping list for today; toilet paper! I bought a fresh roll for 2 Bolivianos because there is no public toilet paper in bathrooms in Bolivia. At all. Let's just say that I learned my lesson the hard way. I walked into the man's store and cleared off a stool so I could sit down for the next thirty minutes out of sight from the police. The man walked in and asked me why I was at the border. He asked me questions like why I was there to which I replied that I had problems at the border yesterday and had to sort out some problems with the man who works in the back office. Our entire proceeding conversation was a lie. Nester (we eventually introduced ourselves) asked how long I had been in South America and where I was from. We spent the next ten minutes discussing how unfair it was that I had to pay $135 for a visa (Nester even told me that I probably paid an extra fee to someone's pocket) but that it's only because the U.S. Government charges Bolivians a hefty fee to enter The States. Nester told me that Americans are the only group of people who pay for a visa, otherwise it's absolutely free for everyone else in the world. My new friend asked if I was traveling alone and if I was married. This is where the lies began. I learned the hard way (which I seem to do in South America) that I shouldn't tell a Latino man that I am single unless I am ready to be hit on until I accept a date. Suddenly I had been married for two years but I have no kids, I am a bartender back home where I earn up to $300 on a Saturday night in tips and I don't have a specialty drink because everything I make is delicious. Nester was sad that I didn't have any children yet and that I wasn't traveling with my fake husband. I assured him that we wanted kids within the next three years and that women in the U.S. have children until they're in their forties. I am traveling alone because my husband and I have a great relationship and he was okay with me wanting to do some traveling alone. Oh- and after we have our first child, my husband and I are moving to Australia. I have never made up such a story in my life but with yesterday and today, my entire life seemed to be a lie. Nester asked me again why I had come to the border and I told him again that I had issues crossing. Some tourism buses began to arrive to cross the border from Bolivia to Peru which was essentially what I needed to do before getting my re-entry stamp back into Bolivia. I peeked at the now open front door and saw a police official standing in the way. I started sweating and trying to breath deeply. Nester was coming in and out of his shop which he seemed to use more as a storage area and was carrying his stock outside. I offered to help him and he graciously declined. Nester came in a final time and told me that if I have any problems with the border that I was more than welcome to stay with him. He has plenty of food with which to feed me, water and supplies, and that he could give me money if I needed any. Nester has been working this job for 20 years supporting his wife and four sons who live in La Paz, three hours from where Nester lives and works. I decided to partially come clean. I told Lester that I was illegally in Bolivia and that I needed to see the man who helped me yesterday but that there was a policeman in my way. I needed Nester to tell me when the policeman was gone. He looked into my eyes with compassion and assured me that he would assist in any way he could. Two minutes later, Amigo walked in! I annoyingly asked him why he instructed me to come to his office at 8am if he didn't open until 8:30am. I didn't even pay attention to his mumbly answer- I just wanted to get this over with so I could relax and acclimate to the elevation in a stress-free manner. We walked passed the police officer in the doorway who didn't even blink. Luckily, I think I was dealing with the boss of the immigration office. We went over the plan and he tried to console me again by placing his arm around my shoulder. I quickly stood up and said that I was ready to go. He walked me to the border, as far as he could and sent me on my way to the Peruvian office to obtain my exit stamp. I walked up to the same woman who stamped me in yesterday hoping that with the hundreds, if not thousands who come through every day, she wouldn't recognize me. I handed her my passport and she took a look at my immigration card, handed my passport back to me, and told me I had to go get a stamp from the police. I could feel my face turn bright red. Was the jig up? Did she suspect something? I looked at her and said I didn't understand. She repeated exactly what she said the first time. I turned around and nervously walked to the policemen out front expecting to be taken to jail. I told them that the woman inside of immigration said I needed a stamp from the police and I was instructed to follow one of the officers into a separate office. I began telling him that the reason I was leaving Peru (because my passport says I'm in Peru) so soon was because I had a change of plans and decided to meet up with some friends who changed their plans and went to Bolivia. He said no problemo, stamped my immigration card, and I went back to the same woman to receive my exit stamp. Everything went fine! This seemed too easy to be true. I just needed to make it back to Bolivia on foot, being the only gringa within a kilometer without the police asking me why I just walked from the Bolivian side to the Peruvian side, and then back to Bolivia. No one asked me a damn thing! Amigo was waiting for me where he dropped me off, talking to two policemen. We walked back to his office unbothered. Amigo told me we could now celebrate and said we should buy an Inka Cola (Peruvian soda) to drink with the guys in the office. I said a) I don't' drink soda and b) my friends are waiting for me back in Copacabana. Back in the office I got my entrance stamp into Bolivia and everything was legal and official. I wanted to ask him what the deal was with me needing my Peru stamp after he fennagled my visa for Bolivia. If he gave me a visa that said that I had entered Bolivia on February 16, why did I need to get Peru involved. I held my tongue because I didn't want to change my success with the two policemen standing in the doorway. I shook his hand, thanked Amigo, and said I wasn't buying him a freaking Inka Cola and walked out. I went back to Nester's shop, shook his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder thanking him for everything. It truly was his pleasure. I got a taxi back to Copacabana for 15 Bolivianos and went straight to an internet café to let Franny know via skype that everything was hunky dorey. It's 10am and I have already had a more exciting day than most of you reading this right now. I don't know what I would have done if I wasn't nearly fluent in Spanish!

The Big Kahuna

Mateo came with me to the Immigration Office to sort out my passport issue. I met him at a local disco across from his University at 10am and we hopped on a combi bus where I am too tall to stand straight up but that costs the equivalent of 30 cents per person. We took the 30 minute bus ride and hopped off just 1 block away. I nervously walked in the front door with Teo, not knowing what the hell was going to happen. We sat down and waited just 10 minutes for our turn. Teo was called into the office while I was in the bathroom and when I met him in the tiny office, Teo was explaining my situation to the man behind the desk. Mateo and I planned ahead of time that it would be best if I played stupid and pretended that I didn't speak Spanish. The powerless man told us that the big boss comes in at noon and that we needed to come back to talk to him. He also let us know that there were 2 cases exactly the same quite recently (which was a bit comforting to know) but that the helpless victims were left with unresolved problems (this somewhat reversed my feelings) but I kept my hopes up. We walked to a park, sat down, and Teo flipped through his eight hundred and something pictures on his iphone to distract me from the hour and change we needed to wait for the big boss. At noon, we nervously walked back into the building, waited in the waiting area for 5 minutes, then were escorted to a more important office- the Big Kahuna's office. After explaining our situation, the Kahuna told Teo that I had to go back to the Ecuador/Peru border. Ha! Okay, not an option. Teo explained that I have a flight from Bolivia back to the States and that I had to sort this out now (my flight is actually from Lima on May 4 but Teo thought it would be best to make my situation even more urgent). The Big Kahuna picked up the phone and started dialing numbers. After speaking with a few different people (I could understand everything but had to play stupid), Kahuna said that my problem could be resolved in Lima. Well i'm not going back to Lima until May 2nd and I have plans to go to Bolivia this coming Sunday! If I don't have a stamp on my passport that says that I am currently in Peru, how the hell will I be able to enter Bolivia? I attempted to pull out the waterworks but was unsuccessful. Finally, Señor Kahuna said that most of the time, these issues can be resolved at a border. Well what if I go to the Bolivian border on Sunday with Tom and Jovana and I am completely turned away? I certainly have a solution but what about my friends? The best I can do is try. My backup plan: If I am turned away, I will see Lake Titicaca (yes that's the real name) from the Peruvian side and not the Bolivian side, go back to Arequipa for a night, then bus it back to Lima where the offices are official enough with sufficient authority to set me straight, then spend my final 2 weeks in the jungle in northeast Peru. I know everything will work out in the end, no matter what happens- it's just a pain in the tush and completely my fault that I didn't sort this out before heading to a border.

Lastly- Rob is in town! He and his German girlfriend whom I don't like (which has nothing to do with her nationality) took a bus from Cusco to see me in Arequipa before I leave for Bolivia. The reason I don't like her, and I am not afraid to admit it- is because I am jealous. I said it. I am jealous of Rob's girlfriend. I don't have romantic feelings for Rob, but we were 2 peas in 1 pod, meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Peanut butter and banana- spending every waking moment together as best friends. When Carina came along, she stole all of Rob's attention. And that's why I am jealous of Carina. Otherwise, this is going to be a fantastic farewell weekend in Arequipa!

Limbo

I have an issue. When I left Ecuador to come back to Peru on February 16, the bus stopped in Ecuador for me to get my stamp to prove that I exited Ecuador. At this particular border, we had to go to a different location to legally enter Peru and get my entrance stamp. Welp the bus never stopped in Peru and according to my passport, I am neither in Ecuador nor Peru aka limbo. I didn't take care of my issue when I was in Lima (I know, dumb) and now that I have been in Arequipa for over 5 weeks and preparing to cross another border, I decided it would be a good idea to fix my problem before attempting to enter Bolivia. Today Teo helped me call the immigration office to figure out what to do. The rude woman on the phone at the Arequipa office told Teo that I would have to go back to the Peru/Ecuador border so he said thanks and hung up. I don't understand what this has to do with Ecuador and why I would need to get that specific border involved. We called the Lima office 2 minutes before they closed to ask for the same assistance in solving my issue. The helpful man on the line told Teo, who was posing as the person with the issue that he could resolve his frustrating situation here in Arequipa. At 10am tomorrow, Teo and I will go to the immigration office and aren't leaving without my stamp so that I can peacefully enter Bolivia!

Earlier today, I went out to find some lunch and stumbled across a restaurant offering menu (lunch where you get a starter, entrée and juice for a handful of Soles) that said 'Vegetariano' at the bottom of the dry erase board propped up in front of the door. I stared at the board for a minute or so rather confused because the  starter was vegetarian, but the two options for entrées were typical Peruvian dishes with beef: Lomo Saltado and Chuleta but they each had the word 'gluten' after the listed dishes. I walked in anyway prepared to sit down and ask what the deelio was. I was immediately brought my juice which tasted a little bit like celery juice with a hint of orange, silverware, and a bread roll. I was brought the vegetable soup after I confirmed that I wanted menu for lunch. When the woman came back, who was clearly a partner with her husband in this restaurant, to ask me what I wanted for my second dish I asked what 'gluten' meant. It turns out that the plates they serve are made with soy- imitation meat! I was thrilled and ordered the Chuleta. After eating 3/4 of my vegetable soup, I was feeling full and contemplated stopping with just my soup when the woman brought out my main dish. I struggled to eat my soy meat and some of the cilantro rice with peas and carrots. I called it a day without even touching the bread nor the dessert. I went to pay, thanked the family whose restaurant I was dining in, and explained that everything was delicious but that I was full. I handed them a 20 Sole bill for my 6 Sole lunch. There was a young mother in her early 30s holding her 10 month old son, sitting next to her grandfather of about 65 years and her daughter who was no more than 4 years old. They were eating chocolate cake topped with strawberries and I commented that there was chocolate cake all over the little girl's face and we all giggled. The 65 year old asked me where I was from and I made them guess which I LOVE doing these days. First answer; Europe. Too easy! You can't guess an entire continent! Usually they guess Germany, France, Switzerland and if they're lucky, the United States. I shook my head at his first guess and then he asked if I was from the U.S. I think I confuse people because right now my hair is more blonde than brown and especially with my green-blue eyes, the U.S. is not a first guess. Germany, France, and Switzerland produce beautiful, blonde, and tall women and i'm realizing that I fall into this category. The gentleman and his surrounding family members were shocked with disbelief that I was an American I was quite flattered. Americans don't have a very good reputation in South America and I am treated very differently if I tell someone (without speaking English) that I am from somewhere other than America. I've experimented with this hypothesis and sadly, I am treated the opposite when someone finds out I am American. Anywho, the man, who's name is Hedy continued to ask me questions like if I had been to Colombia and if I was traveling alone because it wouldn't be safe for someone so charming and beautiful to travel to Colombia alone. He asked me how I learned to speak Castellano so well (people from Spain speak Español and everywhere else speaks Castellano) and told me a bit about Colombia where his son went to live for 11 months back before he was married. We talked about the fruit in South American and the delicious mangoes in Colombia The he asked me how much I weigh. His granddaughter, the young mother snapped at her grandfather telling him he was asking an inappropriate question. I said it was okay and I answered with no shame that I weigh 85 kilos. We talked about whether I play sports because it might be difficult for me with the altitude and cold weather in Bolivia. Hedy asked if I dance or play and instruments and I told him that I have been involved in singing for my entire life, not professionally, but in choirs, musicals, and an acapella group when I was in College. Hedy asked his daughter in law, the woman who served me lunch for a pencil and a piece of paper. He wrote down the name of a DJ at a local radio station who would be interested in talking to me and that I should mention Hedy's name. I told Hedy that I didn't want to sing on the radio and Hedy explained that his friend likes to meet 'extrañjeros' which means 'outsiders' and that he would be interested in meeting me. Hedy's son came back with my change from lunch but he asked for 1 Sole from me so that he could give me an even 14 back. I didn't have any change! He told me it was ok and I said I would see him tomorrow to eat again and to give him the difference and I am looking forward to it after going to immigration with Teo. I came back and told Teo my story from lunch and it turns out that he knows the guy at the radio station I will go see on Thursday at 10am- the time of his radio show. He showed me this guy's pictures on facebook and boy is he handsome! And 25! This has been such a great day- now only if I can have success tomorrow with immigration! Wish me luck.

Bolivia

I just left a meeting with my 2 managers and I gave them the news. I am leaving for Bolivia on Sunday. I have decided to leave Arequipa 2 weeks earlier than I had originally planned because of the amount of time it takes to travel between mountainous areas and jungles between Bolivia and Peru. To put things into perspective: Jason and I took a 1 hour and 5 minute flight to Cusco from Lima. The bus ride to and from the same exact destinations is 22 hours. Crazy right!? The wonderful couple I met from new Zealand will be traveling with me (Fran is letting out a huge sigh of relief right now) and I am ecstatic. Tom and Jovana (Jovi for short who was born in Serbia-go look at a map) have been staying here for the last couple of weeks having a blast with us. Jovi recently went to India for a Yoga Seminar, studies psychology, and is 23 and Tom is in law school, also 23 and is a cyclist. This is the most laid back couple I have ever met. When I asked them why they behaved in such manners they told me it was the New Zealand way! I had also decided (before I met Tom and Jovi) that when I go to Australia after the New Year, I want to hop on over to New Zealand after establishing myself a little bit in Melbourne. So I was pretty nervous about telling my bosses, because we're like a family. I haven't even told Tamir, the Jewish & Israeli owner who initially offered me the job. He'll be disappointed that I am leaving early, but who can be mad at my adorable face for long? I live in such close quarters with an excellent group of people and I knew I was going to get emotional. My other dilemma was that Tom offered to work in the bar and Jovi would stay and take Spanish lessons until I was ready to go to Bolivia which was going to be 2 weeks from now. We need bar staff for a minimum of 2 weeks. In deciding (literally last night) that I wanted to leave for Bolivia sooner, after Tom had committed to working in the bar, I didn't want to screw over his plans for a free bed, breakfast, lunch, and a discount on alcohol. Boy was I in a pickle! But I believe that honesty is the best way to go. So I sat down, went over my to-do list like getting a new lightbulb for our disco ball spotlight in the bar, ordering more beer for wednesday instead of thursday, and replacing the former beer supplier furniture and fridge with our new supplier. Lastly, i closed my computer where my notes were and got it out as soon as possible, like ripping off a bandaid as quickly as possible. They were not expecting the news at all. I explained my situation and Kate and Chris were very receptive and reacted well. They came up with the idea to still have Tom work since we need another body and Matt hadn't had a free day since he arrived last week. I got up and hugged them both, got slightly teary-eyed, and left to go finish training Tom. So that's it folks! I am continuing my travels on Sunday to Bolivia to see La Paz, Copacabana at Lake Titicaca, the salt flats, and eventually the jungle before getting back to Lima by May 2 (leaving me a 1 day grace period for my flight on may 4)! See you all in a few weeks!!

Semana Santa

Semana Santa essentially translates to 'Easter Week.' Most restaurants and stores are closed or have curtailed schedules. It is also completely illegal to buy and sell alcohol for the level of holiness that this week represents. Many Peruvians travel to different cities, like a mini vacation (the equivalent of Spring Break in the U.S.) and because of this, The Point opens its doors to Peruvians. Our hostel is strictly a backpacker's hostel for non-Peruvians but to take advantage of an opportunity for significantly more income for the hostel by filling up our facility to capacity, we allow it for this one week in April. We also raise our prices 3 Soles per night because we know people will pay it for a place to stay. I have heard of stories for Carnaval where hotels in Rio and Sao Paolo charge hundreds of dollars per night during the week of festivities because they know that both tourists and locals will pay. I suppose the same happens in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. We are not only filled to capacity, but Matt (my Scottish bartender), Jin (our awesome German receptionist who is the same height as me and originally from Seria) and I were asked to do some switching around. I threw a fit and got to stay in our room but Matt has temporarily moved up to the penthouse suite where there is a private room with a twin-sized bed, separated by a wooden partition from the actual dorm room thats on the roof and Jin is sleeping in a sectioned-off area of our manager's office where there is a queen-sized bed for staff who don't live at the hostel, but may occasionally need to spend the night if they have an early shift the following morning. I understand the desire to sell beds, but I don't think it's okay to sell staff beds. Luckily it's only for one night and I think that Matt and Jin may have been bribed with a free drink from the bar. Although it is prohibited to sell alcohol during Semana Santa, The Point does it anyway because we relay on the business in our bar for financial success as The Point is notorious for being a party hostel. And boy do we sell! Luckily there are no other places (except for the other party hostels with bars) to consume alcohol in the center of Arequipa so everyone stays in at night because they can't drink in discos. We've been playing beer pong for the last 3 nights and other various drinking games involving cards, cups, and sometimes removal of clothing when a shut-out occurs. It's quite fun. Pong initiates much beer consumption, which means a lot of money spent resulting in fun times and financial gain for the Israeli-owned hostel. Beer pong is a new concept to Peruvians and pretty foreign or never-been-played when it comes to Europeans, and people from Central and South America. Boy do they love it but boy do they suck! I finally understand a big reason why North Americans, especially people from the States play so many drinking games; we can't legally go to bars until we're 21 so we rely on college (and for many, high school) house parties. Because of this, I am the bomb diggity and somewhat of a prodigy in the eyes of Peruvians. People who know that I can play beer pong pretty damn well fear my skillfully accurate shooting ability when I approach the table set neatly with six cups in the form of a pyramid (3 in the back row, 2 in the middle and one front cup). When outsiders see me play for the first time, they are amazed at my proficiency. I guess I have my parents to thank since they didn't make going to college to choice and look what I have to show for it! With a long list of people signed up to play beer pong, we sell a lot of beer on top of the non beer pong-playing people. Last night I had a drink special of 'all you can drink rum' for 25 Soles from 8-11pm. I sold 4 packages which is great considering there were 8 people in the bar! Until 10pm and at that point not worth buying the special. Each bottle costs us 15 Soles and we used 1 and a half bottles of dark rum and a half of a battle of white rum. Not too bad!

Today we went to the futbol field for out Saturday afternoon hour-long game. I cheer leaded- shouting vulgar comments and curse-words at fouls, misses, and general mess-ups but I don't necessarily root for a team. The Peruvians laugh at the gringa yelling such phrases and I get a kick out of it as well. We walked back around 3:15 and I got ready for my afternoon shift. Today was organizing day and I turned my bar around re-arranging cartons of beer where we store our empty bottles that we trade with the beer company for full cases and dug out the supplies for our hat party tonight; free jello shot with a hat, 2 if it's awesome. I also helped Guillermo collect money and organize a shopping list for the evening asado- a latin american BBQ. The cost was 10 Soles and 17 people signed up! Everyone got 2 Arequipeña style sausage sandwiches although there was a vegetarian option of 3 vegetable skewers or a chicken option which also included 2 bread rolls and condiments. My chicken was delicious and juicy! I'm relaxing now before I head into the bar to participate in our Saturday night party. Lastly- I hope everyone had a nice seder, beginning of Passover, or Eater- whatever thine holiday is!

Dee See

Our world is huge. At the same time, it's teeny. I met Liel on Saturday. He's from Israel. Liel came with us to Mr. Fish- the daytime party disco I went to on Saturday with 2 other backpackers and 3 staff from The Point where we had the time of our lives shaking our tush's, consuming overpriced beer, and making eye contact (mostly me) with handsome men (but also the fabulous Mateo). Liel and I were chatting about where we were from and when he told me Israel, I responded 'beautiful country!' So of course he asked if I had been (duh-twice! Thanks mom and dad!) but he didn't ask me anything about it, just where I was from. I always say Washington D.C. because it's where I was actually born and it's much cooler than saying Maryland. The normal response is 'Ohhh Washington.' Then I correct them, adding the 'D.C.' and explaining the difference. Well Liel was different. He said 'but where are you actually from? Because no one is from D.C.' Well i begged to differ! I explained my story and Liel told me he lived in Rockville. Then we got to street names and I asked if he went to Walter Johnson. He sure did! He graduated in 2007 but I didn't know anyone from that year. Teeny world, ey? The next day we were talking about vegetarian food and vegetarianism as a group of about 5 people and the topic of falafel came up as a delicious vegetarian option. I then proceeded to tell Liel that both the best schwarma and falafel I have had in my life has not been from Israel, but in fact in Maryland, at the kosher deli where I (and Jason adn Hariel) used to work, Max's. Well not only does Liel know Max's, he's been to Momi's house- the man who makes the falafel and schwarma. Whatttttt???? The world is freakishly small. Well last night I decided to grill out on the terrace so I took counts as to who wanted to contribute a few Soles to my vegetable-only barbecue. I grilled eggplant, zucchini, red onions, spring onions, and pineapple over a wood-burning fire. I had 7 people with me eating warm veggies as they came off of the wood-burning grill. I offered Liel the use of my computer for his ipod touch as he told me he didn't have any music and I have over 50GB. No problemo! My taste in music is eclectic and there is something for everyone- except country and heavy metal lovers (though probably not the same person...). Liel connected his ipod and wasn't sure how to respond to the message that popped up. I came over to assist and thought I knew what I was doing and quickly/without thinking too much, clicked the option that said 'restore ipod.' Mistake. Huge mistake. Because what proceeded to happen over the next 30 minutes was that everything that Liel had on his ipod was replaced with the data from Thomas' ipod. Now you're probably thinking, 'now wait just a second there Lauren, who is Thomas?' The strange thing is- I have no freaking clue. Somehow Liel ended up with pictures, messages, phone numbers, and icons from a complete stranger's ipod/iphone. There was 1 Thomas staying at the hostel, but he took a look at the data and it was all foreign. Plus Tom didn't own any Apple products. The worst part- Liel's 1129 pictures from South America had all been replaced with Thomas'. Liel went to the lower level to acquire internet to see if he could undo what had been done in some magical way. He was unluckily unsuccessful. While I felt horrible, Liel seemed surprisingly calm as I would have been flipping out if that had happened to me. He told me that he had accepted the situation and that there was nothing he could do. Apparently there is still a possibility that he can recover his old data but I don't think he was feeling too optimistic. Luckily I didn't have to feel the embarrassment in front of his face too much longer as he had a 12 hour bus ride and left 30 minutes later. I bought him a beer, didn't make him pay for the BBQ, and sent him on his way with a hug and another 'sorry...'

On anther note, I had a letter waiting for me in the bar yesterday from Matt. It read:

"Hey Lauren, I can't bare to tell you this to your face so i've written you this note. First of all thanks for taking me on for these few days on the bar. It's been a ball but a few days ago I also applied to work at The Wild Rover and today they got back to me to offer me a position as bar manager. I've gone to check it out and I'm afraid to say i've taken the position. It's a paid job and they have a pool! So anyways, thanks again and see you soon. Matt. P.S. I'll be back later to collect my stuff.'

My heart jumped into my throat. I had just hired this guy, turning down an awesome couple from New Zealand simply because Matt could stay for at least 3 months. He really had grown on me. The reception Manager, Kate from Montreal walked by and I showed her the note with a blank look on my face. She looked at me and said 'well the good news is, he'll have to pay for the last few nights he has slept here because he doesn't yet qualify for free room and board since he didn't stay for 2 weeks. I was pissed. I mentioned that when I met Eoghan, the general manager and bar manager from The Wild Rover, our hostel competitor and rival here in Arequipa, he told me that he had heard a lot about me and that if I didn't like working at The Point that I could go work for him. Kate told me that it was common for Eoghan to do that and that apparently he had won Matt over. Again- frustrated! I couldn't wait for my afternoon chat with my read-headed ex employee about how much I didn't appreciate what he was doing. I went on with my day, ran some errands, and returned to the hostel to see Elsa, my almost no longer bartender as she left this morning. I showed Elsa the note from Matt. While she was holding the note, I saw something on the back of the paper. I took the paper from Elsa's hands and read aloud 'April Fool's Amiga.' I had officially been April Fooled. I walked into the kitchen where Matt was preparing his dinner. He looked at me with a grin that said it all: 'Gotcha!' I was still angry from thinking I was going to have zero bartenders after the weekend, but so incredibly relieved that my little leprechaun man was staying! I am in the process of planning revenge.

On a final note- yesterday was my parents 33rd wedding anniversary. We skyped last night and briefly caught up. Love you guys! Tomorrow marks 4 weeks until my flight home. Yikes!

Matty Boy

My new bartender is nothing short of awesome, but also short. The ginger-headed Scotsman has a hilarious, vulgar, and sarcastic sense of humor so of course we get along wonderfully. We crack jokes, curse, and make fun of each other and genuinely have a good time together. Matty Boy, the nickname I have given him works pretty hard to lighten his accent for me and annunciate his words making it easier for me to understand what the heck he says. He might even be my sort-of Rob replacement...I mean substitute. I miss Rob a whole lot and he sent me an email the other day letting me know he will be coming to Arequipa in 2ish weeks! Awesome! Matty Boy even spent a few nights at The Point in Lima and chatted with Rob, his ginger-headed neighbor and my platonic husband which made me happy. Matt is a really interesting fellow. His dad died a few months before he decided to come to Peru to teach English. His dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's when he was 64. He died at 74, being 24 years major of his wife, Matts mother (major? does that make sense?). It reminded me of my grandmother who I lovingly called Mommom and I couldn't believe that it has been two years since she peacefully passed away and I got a little teary eyed at our vegetarian lunch together. Lunch was delish! For 7 Soles Matt and I had the pre-set menu which included a vegetable salad of beets, carrots, and potatoes followed by soup with squash and corn. I was feeling full when Gloria, the strictly vegetarian restaurant owner brought us our entrées; mushroom lasagna with a white sauce, a pumpkin stew-like dish, and rice. I ate 1/3 of my main plate because I couldn't possibly fit anything else into my stomach, except for our dessert which there always seems to be room for- bananas on a thin bed of honey topped off with vanilla yogurt. Yum! Matt paid for my lunch telling me I could get the next one, but I think he was just being a gentleman. We then walked to the main plaza to hand out fliers advertising our bar. After three minutes of waiting for the right audience to pass an ad to, we handed a flier to the first gringa we saw and she crumbled it up! I was pissed. If you're going to crumble up our money then don't freaking take a flier! I got frustrated and Matt and I decided that we would go back to the plaza later in the evening when there would be a better crowd walking around to find dinner. We didn't end up going back because we got caught up in bar training and the bar was getting busy. Matt's first night behind the bar was good! He's worked in bars before and is very friendly and outgoing with the hostel guests. So this afternoon was a daytime party at a facility called Mr. Fish. I went with some staff from The Point and 2 hostel-stayers. I was so overwhelmed with the number of attractive people there that I didn't know what to do with myself. I am considered exotic in Peru and I tend to attract a lot of attention- both good and bad. After mingling with an English teacher from France who lives in Australia, a professional hip-hop dancer, and about seven other attractive Peruvian men, I hobbled over to the VIP area with my flamboyant friend, Teo (Mateo) and proceeded to flirt with more Latino men using only my eyes and smile. I was successful and had about six of them following me. I made a quick escape with the people I came with including Liel the Israeli and headed back to the hostel. Julia from Germany and I decided to go to dinner and had some scrumptious falafel. On our way back we crossed some artisans selling handmade bracelets for 2 Soles and I picked one out to wrap around my ankle. Unfortunately the one I chose was about two centimeters too short so I was given the option to pick my own colors and I sat with an Argentinian and a Colombian while they made my ankle bracelet in front of me. Julia sat and tolerated the Argentinian who was caressing her wrist and arm with his lips. It was quite uncomfortable and as soon as they were finished, we made a quick getaway for the hostel! I can't believe how great my life is and while I am looking forward to returning to the states, I will miss the life i've been living.

Asado

Life is picking up bit by bit here at The Point Arequipa. While three guests was considered a busy day in January and February, we're averaging between six and ten these days. Business is still slower than we'd like, but we try to keep our glasses half full. I also need new bar staff. While I didn't end up firing Carlos which I thought was a little harsh without suggesting some ways for him to improve, he has decided to leave and continue on his travels. He's got a bus tonight to Ica, Peru where the attraction is sandboarding. Elsa, my adorable French bartender is leaving me April 3rd to also do some traveling. Elsa is studying Spanish at the University here in town and also speaks Italian. She can often times be found flirting with the very attractive Italian chef and owner of the Pizzeria 4 doors down from the hostel where the crust is baked in a brick oven. I tasted it once just so I could recommend (or not) the pizza shop. So Elsa is leaving April 3rd and I will officially need brand new bar staff. Forty five minutes after placing a sign in the bar that reads 'Bar Staff Wanted, talk to Lauren =)' , I was approached by a couple from New Zealand- Tom and Yovani (who was born in Serbia) asking if I would take bar staff for a week. After declining the initial offer from them and telling them I needed a two week minimum commitment, we came to an agreement that Yovani would train today at 8pm and when Elsa leaves in a week, Tom can then begin bartending and begin to take advantage of the perks that come with bartending here; free accommodation, breakfast, lunch, and 10% off of alcohol, increasing each week of work. So after 3 weeks, they would get 30% off, maxing out at 40% for bartenders and 50% for me, the bar manager! This all happened yesterday. I woke up at noon and wandered into reception to claim my clean laundry and was quickly approached by the reception manager who excitedly told me that a young Scottish man had inquired about bartending and is willing to stay for 3 months. Well now i'm in a pickle! Of course I need to place priority on the backpacker who can stay longer so I had to talk to the Kiwis (New Zealanders) and told them I can only take on one of them. And if that's the case, I don't know how keen they'll be on just hanging out while one of them works for free room and 1/2 of board. Being a manager is teaching me a kind of responsibility I hadn't learned before and I like it!

On another note- I had a wonderful day. I went to lunch with 2 Swedes, and an Englishman. I took them to Don Pollo- a delicious restaurant where I go to eat Pollo a la Brasa- Peruvian rotisserie chicken. For 8.5 Soles (10 if you want a soda included) you get the soup of the day, 1/4 of the juiciest, most flavorful Peruvian chicken, french fries, and salad! We all ordered the same thing except Justin, the Englishman who asked for no soup because he doesn't eat beef and I made sure to ask what kind of animal was used to make the broth. The server insisted that he could bring the soup without any beef in it but he didn't seem to understand that because there was cow in the water with which the soup was made, he wouldn't consume it. Peruvians just don't understand this concept. So while Justin asked for extra fries instead of soup, the waiter still insisted on bringing Justin some soup to try because apparently he makes delicious soup. The gentleman in Justin unwrapped his silverware and dipped his spoon into his soup then placed it back on the napkin never letting the soup part his lips so that the waiter would think that he had tasted it. The boys were pleased with lunch and we went back to the hostel so I could prepare for my afternoon shift. The afternoon was mellow and Matt from Scotland showed up at 8pm so I could brief him in the workings of the bar. I hired Matt the second he told me he could stay for three months and that he has worked in bars for three years. Plus he has an awesome sense of humor so I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship! During my afternoon shift, I had the pleasure of entertaining a Brazilian and two Chileans and they even taught me a few new words. I asked if they needed any recommendations for places to go for dinner and they then asked me where the closest supermarket was so that they could buy ingredients to prepare an asado- a south american barbecue with lightly seasoned meat using just salt and sometimes pepper. I excitedly asked if I could take part if I made a financial contribution to which they were ecstatic that I wanted to join them! When my shift ended at 9pm, I was greeted by three handsome latinos preparing three different salsas- one with onion, cilantro, oil and vinegar, another with tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and vinegar, and the last with tomatoes, onions, cilantro, garlic, and aji- a Peruvian hot pepper. Delish!! Now if you're reading this and you sort of know me, you know that cooking is one of my passions in life, especially cooking for other people. But having 3 attractive latinos cooking for me was an entirely new experience and boy did I enjoy it! They cooked enough food for a small army and I spent the evening sipping on beer, scooping salsas, laughing, and eventually eating lots of meat! One by one the hostel stayers and staff made they're way up to the rooftop terrace to see what was going on, have a chat, and ultimately eating food with us. I was a bit annoyed when I asked the Chileans who I should pay and how much I owed, that they wanted exactly 1/4 of the total bill making my contribution 25 Soles when we ended up feeding nearly the entire hostel. In the end, you can't put a price on good food and even better company so i sucked it up. I have a Skype meeting at 11:30am (technically this morning) with the owner and the Marketing Director to discuss my job and how things have been thus far and I think they'll be pleased. And today is officially the 5 week mark for my return home. Get readyyyyy!