Firstly, I will always wonder why neither of the toilets in the Casa de Jose Mora (where I was studying Espanol) and many others that I have experienced nationwide don't have toilet seats. Is this a cultural phenomena? I don't know...I'll keep you posted. For now, every moment of accidental contact with that cold raw inner rim conjures up bad memories of when my brother or that kid I sat next to in second grade forgot to put the seat back down.
Secondly, I've been meaning to inform you all that I am now merely two degrees of separation away from both both Miss Peru (who is the niece of Jose Mora, my teacher) and the President of Peru (who is the first cousin to Lucy, Jose's wife). That sure beats my previous claim to fame of being only four degrees away from Seinfeld!
I departed from Guadalupe last week and have admittedly been a terrible blogger. Largely, and greatfully, I believe this can be acredited to the fact that my days at the Radical Gym actually materialized into friendships and I had a social life in Guadalupe. Peruvian young people have proven to be a wonderfully fun-loving lot. It doesn't take long to fall in love with riding on the back of motorcycles or pick-up trucks headed towards the pacific coast.
I've spent the last week working my way up the PanAmericana towards Ecuador. I took a sizable stop off in Chiclayo, a city in the North of Peru, to visit some fabulous archaeological sights. After befriending the police guard man who is supposed to be employed to protect the tombs, he offered to lower me over the guardrail and into one of them. Imagine that, I sat right next to a pre-Incan skeleton!
Now I sit in a beach town called Mancora on the northern coast of Peru near the Ecuadorian border. It seems to attract an interesting cross-section of party loving beach goers, bronzed surfers and Peruvians with money. Its similar to Goa, for my Amigos from our days in India. In search of a non-overpriced meal, I'm dodging barefoot tourist-hippies in the street. This may come as a surprise to many of my family members who probably consider me to be amongst this lot of folks, but, I think its quite strange to pretend like you don't have $80 shoes in your hostel in places where there are people who, quite literally, can't afford shoes at all. Tourism is a strange animal.
Tomorrow, I'm hoping to make it over the border to Ecuador. I've contacted a group that's doing a reforestation project there that takes volunteers. Provided it works out, I'm looking forward to posting up somewhere again...being constantly on the move alone is both too expensive and lonely.
Secondly, I've been meaning to inform you all that I am now merely two degrees of separation away from both both Miss Peru (who is the niece of Jose Mora, my teacher) and the President of Peru (who is the first cousin to Lucy, Jose's wife). That sure beats my previous claim to fame of being only four degrees away from Seinfeld!
I departed from Guadalupe last week and have admittedly been a terrible blogger. Largely, and greatfully, I believe this can be acredited to the fact that my days at the Radical Gym actually materialized into friendships and I had a social life in Guadalupe. Peruvian young people have proven to be a wonderfully fun-loving lot. It doesn't take long to fall in love with riding on the back of motorcycles or pick-up trucks headed towards the pacific coast.
I've spent the last week working my way up the PanAmericana towards Ecuador. I took a sizable stop off in Chiclayo, a city in the North of Peru, to visit some fabulous archaeological sights. After befriending the police guard man who is supposed to be employed to protect the tombs, he offered to lower me over the guardrail and into one of them. Imagine that, I sat right next to a pre-Incan skeleton!
Now I sit in a beach town called Mancora on the northern coast of Peru near the Ecuadorian border. It seems to attract an interesting cross-section of party loving beach goers, bronzed surfers and Peruvians with money. Its similar to Goa, for my Amigos from our days in India. In search of a non-overpriced meal, I'm dodging barefoot tourist-hippies in the street. This may come as a surprise to many of my family members who probably consider me to be amongst this lot of folks, but, I think its quite strange to pretend like you don't have $80 shoes in your hostel in places where there are people who, quite literally, can't afford shoes at all. Tourism is a strange animal.
Tomorrow, I'm hoping to make it over the border to Ecuador. I've contacted a group that's doing a reforestation project there that takes volunteers. Provided it works out, I'm looking forward to posting up somewhere again...being constantly on the move alone is both too expensive and lonely.
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