Living in Peru : your everyday companion

Going to Peru reminds the soul the importance of money, the importance of family, the importance of religion, the importance of friends.

My flight from Portland to Atlanta to Lima touched down Tuesday at midnight. With the nighttime warmth greeting, taxis screaming and shanty looking neighborhoods full of kids playing night time soccer, I headed to the neighborhood of San Miguel, where I would eat warm empanadas, sip on Nescafe, roll my eyes at picky Argentians and catch another flight to Cusco.

In Cusco I would visit Spanish churches, ride horseback through ruins and take a rickety train through rolling mountains and over winding rivers full of fish until – high up in the mountains – we were in the town of Aguas Calientes.

In Aguas Calientes I would eat cuy, watch the clouds melt off Macchu Pichu, hike a mountain and eat a three hour lunch in a comfortable plaza under a perfectly placed umbrella in the warmest part of the day.

It was four picky Argentians, three Peruvians, and me, going by bus, taxi and train, listening to instrumental Andean music, buying turquoise jewelry, paying six Soles for a room in a hostal – breakfast included – and after a long day of adventure, relaxing in natural hot springs at the end of town.

It was me and Giannina, speaking in broken Spanish and English, talking about the Romans and the Incas, laughing and breathing, walking slowly in the night through then narrow cobble stone streets, the moon glowing and knowing.

It was me, not thinking about radio jingles, or clever billboards, or media budgets, and just living.

And when it all ended I was sunburned, sitting on a beach 60 miles outside Lima, drinking a Cusquena, watching the methodical motion of the waves, one after another.

"It's time to go," she said.