As Promised: Not Cake, but our Peruvian Named Willy

An Open Letter to Willy, the Best Guide Ever.

Dear Willy,

Remember when we first met, and Dan and I immediatly liked you? Yeah, I think it was your teeth, you have an awesome smile. Or maybe it was your voice, you have most sonorous pipes. No no, it was the way you are just easy going and definitly trust worthy. You were the best guide our (little) money could buy. }And that was the best thing for sure, you didn´t feel like a paid for companion, ho, ho! no hustler here!, you just fit into our company like a pro.

I find you to be a stellar example of your countrymen. Peruvians all groove with goodness: laughing hearts and hearty handshakes have convinced me of the human-ness that befits this culture. Have I ever met someone so humble and still so full of machismo? You wait on us at table, conceed to our tourist schedule, give in to our offers of alcohol, and blush at our compliments. Yet you hit on women with no avail, call us babies (jokingly) as we acsend mountain tops, and wear the same clothes for four days! Such duality intrigues me!

Thank you for leading the way as we pedaled up and down the unpaved mountain side of Cusco. I gotta say, that bike ride was amazing! I can´t belive how quickly we decended thousands of meters. I felt like we ravaged enough squawking country chickens, dirt dusty pigs, wool wrapped children to last a lifetime. Never have they seen such speed and agility on two wheels! Wee! Gnats in my eyes, wind in my ears, dust in my mouth, nothing has ever felt so fully fantastic with grimmy goodness!

Onto paths and byways, our boots and sneakers hit the rocky roads with certainity behind your led. From one Peruvian tourist to another, I was awed at your certainly of direction. Tourism is graced with your knowledge of the hidden streets, goat paths, and sweet shortcuts. Plus you know everything! How high? How long? What is? What was? Even if you made it all up, it doesn´t matter, you convinced me!

Plus you promised us a monkey. Just one. And Martine was there, riding the back of a Peruvian women: You dubbed him our mascot. His little monkey fingers were so curious and felt like little rubber vices around our arms. And his teeth! They were so jarring to my ear! Ah! BE WARNED OF BITING MONKEYS! But he was so cute, just a baby, aww, nibble my ear and have half my Snickers, it´s okay!

More trekking showed us our best day: face paint with orange berries and frisbee in natural hot springs. It felt soooo good to get the day off our skin and our pack´s weight off our backs. Geez, what´s better than sipping cold beer in hot water after a sweaty day of climbing, clamoring, and chugging? Nothing! Well, except dinner, that was pretty good.

Up next, a bus ride to hurry us to Aquas Calitanas; a faked passport number to cross the bridge, and a steep ascend to view Machu Picchu from a neighboring mountain. I wish you could have gone with us to Machu Picchu. We really wanted you to, especially after we met our ¨specialized¨guide, Ricado. No candor, no wit, just a canned exposé on one of the Wonders of the World. He was a jerk, I didn´t like him, Dan didn´t dig him, so we dashed for the heights of Huanu Picchu. Higher than the day before, my legs ached a little, but not as much, as we steped up ancient pathways to view the miraculous city of 1532.

Willy, you promised that climb to be more trechorous than the one before. Perhaps I was just so scared of the oncoming pain, that I just didn´t feel it because I psyched myself out. Or maybe I got stronger over the night! Or maybe, does it mean you´ve never actually climbed Hauno Picchu. It´s a trip for the body as well as the pocket. It´s expensive to get there, and you don´t get a discount. It´s 45 bucks no matter which way you nationality slices it. I love you country. It´s poor, I´m rich. I´m sorry, I feel bad. Am I keeping you from your nation´s treasures because of my seeming affluency? Ah Christo, I´d sponser you to see such a majestic treasure!

I was disheartened to say goodbye. Man, you are a great guy. Let´s meet again, okay? Really, I meant it when I said to come visit me in New York. We can trek the crazyness of Manhattan on sidewalks; scale the heights of its towers via elevators; and eat the really expensive street food!

Willy you are the master mechanic of bikes (you fixed my snagged derailed, no sweat!), sage leader of Incan trails (we never got lost on any foot path!) and great forger of fruit (I didn´t know oranges, mandrians, mangos, pineapples, paypaas, and cocoa grew in such abundance!), and by the end, you were our friend. Certainly a gem in any Incan trove, your kind nature has compelled me to savor this country a little longer. So I´ll stay!

Besoes,

Frances, the American girl whose name sounds like a country you´ve never been to.

Heepee Beerf Dee JeffLee!

Jeffrery Lee is born today!
Hoorah hooray hooray!

Icecream or cake for our Mr. Lee?
I say bring both, if it´s chocolately.

And how many candles a top such a confection?
I think it´s getting to be too many to mention.

No matter, JeffreryLee super great.
I hope his b'day is first rate!

(This is a silly and very bad poem, please request to read Dan Davy´s for an example of an excellent effort of witty verse).

Answers to above questions:
1. There is no cake or icecream, yes, it is a sad day. Have heart though! Jeffrery is promised to have a birthday cake when I get back to NYC. Sarah Hocevar has promised to create such a delicious treat in our honors, but mostly mine).

2. Jeffrery is 26. You´d have to buy at least two packs of birthday candles to deck his non-existant cake. Or you can cheat and just buy the numbers 6 and 2, in that order. But I´m pretty sure the wax doesn´t taste as good as the Orginial Birthday Candles when you lick the frosting off.

Who says the introduction has to come first?

Well, you´re English teacher was wrong. And that includes me if you were ever in my Brooklyn classroom.

In any case, I used to have this other travel blog that went sideways by biways long ago, years in fact. So this is my next endeavor to be maintained for the rest of this summer trip down in Peru. Check it out, but not too often, because I can only be accountable about two weekly.

Soon: Some pictures of cool stuff I´ve seen and really silly things that I do.
Also upcoming: The Great Trek and a Peruvian Named Willy

Booyah! And enjoy.

Wrigglely Jelly Stuff Drink

¿Que tal? What´s the dish? ¿Que passe? Well, lots and little. I´ve discovered that the fantastic heart of Peruvians beats loudly in Arequipa. I really had a fantastic time there and I made some discoveries outside of the regular tourist circuit.

Among these, I´ve found that one of the nicest things about Peru is that you can eat, all the time, anywhere. The locals make it easy as there is an infinite amount of street food, most of which I cannot identify, nor do I try to. I see people crowding around a hot cart on the sidewalk, so I mossie up, and order whatever the person in front of me ordered, and I ask questions later. This is how I got addicted to the weirdest drink in the world, for seriously. Despite it being my cultural favorite, I do not know the name of, so I will dub it Wrigglely Jelly Stuff Drink, and I shall also say that it is a surprise for the tongue.

The efforts that it takes to make this drink is astonishing, and I´d like to ask the glove clad server if she has a degree in mixology. First, a short glass is dunked into a hot water basin which "cleans" it. Then a series of syrups are added, I only know the color order, not the substance: murky yellow, current red, cloudy white. The last one pours a little slower and makes a bit of a gloop bloop sound as it churns it way out of the bottle and into my glass. Next, the cover is lifted from a steaming pot boiling a mixture of good smelling herbs. The clearish brown tea (?) is ladeled into my syrupy concoction, and the passed from shaker to glass, shaker to glass to mix it up. The swill of liquids is handed to me and I tip it down my throat. AH! It´s like hot gelitan, WEIRD! Think of trying to drink melted jello, that tastes like Celestral Seasons, and try not to barf. Then, it gets good, cuz you get used to it, and ya kinda like it, a lot.

Now, unlike most sidewalk food and drink stands, this one is a bit different because you´re obliged to stay because you have the property of the propriotor in your hand. That glass, remember! But I really dig just standing around the cart, listening to pretty words, people teasing little kids, and probably making fun of me for being a non-articulate gringo. After handing back my glass my insides are coated with some gelatinous gloop that was delicious and I have a hot and happy tummy for the rest of the night!

No Matter How You Say It, Yo La Tango

All it´s taken was about two weeks in Peru and I´ve basically crushed the mortal soul of every French speaker in the universe through my misappropriation of their glorious tounge and managled it with International English into a concoction only to be called Spenchish. I have really great success with my efforts: I can order a variety of food stuff, like guinea pig or coffee with milk. I can also ask how much something costs, like a llama. If I really try, I can expertly haggle down prices of groceries, cab rides, alpaca wool stuffs, and hostel dormitory rates I can usually get the price I want too, haha! (After my bout with those fearsome old ladies in Morocco, I forever revenge the 40 euro henna art on my arm that should have only cost five! Oh you bewitching thives, you´ve taught me such wise lessons!!) I will make the exception in price however when the thing I want will cost me 16 soles, which is a tricky number, and I can´t remember it, so I just ask for 15, that´s closer to its French cousin.

Luckily for me, Dan Davy caught up with me in Arequipa down south in Peru, and has down a finer job than I gracing our hosts, waiters, guides, dealers, and friends with converstion. Charming and ridiculous, Dada has won many hearts in our company, and hopefully his jokes about shampoo and dragons never get old, and we´ll continue to have happy Peruvians around us. Lalalalala!