After almost four years, I am once again in the City of Kings (Lima). It's good to see the folks that I know here. Though I never forgot how dirty, funky and empoverished the city is, it still shocks me. I went to the beach with Sara and some of her friends. Along the way we passed miles of crazy little shacks built directly onto dust dunes... maybe they're technically sand dunes, but there's a thik layer of dust all over everything everywhere. I can't imagine how these people live. There didn't appear to be any signs of plumbing or electricity, or even a decent pathway to ascend the giant dunes to one's home. It seems that there's no natural vegetation anywhere in the region. any place where people haven't planted grass or shrubs is just barren grey dust. This includes all the mountains surrounding the city, too. Every surface in the city is coated with a mix of naturally occuring dust and soot from all the cars, which have no sort of fume regulations. Almost anyone you see in the street is filthy, with exceptions for people who work in offices.
Today I took a walk after lunch to go see some ruins that I had noticed earlier a few blocks from the house (this place is covered in pre-colombian ruins). Some guy watering the flowers said that I couldn't get inside the fence because they weren't done with the excavation. I still got to check them out from a few meters away, though. A sign said that they were from around 1200 A.D. It's cool to see what folks were building here during the same era as notre dame in europe. Afterwords I started walking down an avenue that kept getting increasingly shady and industrial until it ended with wherehouses and little bars filled with filthy drunken people in terrible physical condition. The neighborhood was dominated by a big dusty hill covered in miserable dwellings with seemingly no access. I was already getting sketched out by being so notable as a tall, blonde white guy. People get all silent as a walk by. One crazy old drunkard stumbled out and tried to say something in english to me. As soon as I made the mistake of acknowledging him, a crowd started forming. Some people wanted to know if I was a journalist because they couldn't imagine what else I'd possibly be doing there. The bartender, after offering to introduce me to her daughter, pointed to the nearest direct street out of there and said that I should leave before I was assaulted. I quickly took her advice.
I met up with Ursala, who is from Lima and here visitng her dad. We went out with a couple of her friends in the little town in which she grew up outside of Lima. She and I will return to Santiago together via Bus. We are planning on it taking a little over a week.
A couple days ago I went to a birthday party of one of Edith's friends. True to the latin party spirit, after about an hour of polite conversation they all got up and tarted dancing to reggaeton, cumbia, merengue and salsa. An old lady there was telling me that I needed to practice dancing in order to meet lots of women. After talking with her a while I learned that she was born in the jungle region of peru in 1915. I said that I couldn't imagine how life must have been in the peruvian jungle early in the 20th century. Without thinking about it, she replied that it was 'comfortable.' She elaborated that the quality of life was better- especially the food.
Tomorrow I will go see the jungle for myself. I wanted to go by land, but a girl who's from the city that I want to go to, Iquique, said that it takes 5 or 6 days to get there, considering that one must go a lot of the way in boat. I found a cheap flight and a hostel that costs $5 a night. I have malaria pills and have been vaccinated for yellow fever, so I ought to be ok.