Hi, everyone.
Thanks for all of your comments. I am really glad so many of you liked my first post, and that some of you even thought it was entertaining, which is funny because nothing interesting happened. It must have been the photo of the baby alpaca. It was also fun to see all the places the blog has been viewed (hello Zambia!).
To make this blog slightly less pedantic and actually interesting, not just pretend interesting, I am have started taking photos of regular scenes here in Lima, and will soon put them up. Also, I just bought my first surf board, so that bodes well for humbling self-depreciating tales.
But, although nothing still hasn't happened, I thought I would give a brief description of my daily routine here, so you, my friends, can get a better sense of what it is really like to live in Lima while performing the noble duty of representing the Crown. So now close your eyes and read words below, magical words that will transport you the fabled land of: Lima......
... to put you in the right frame of mind, you should first have the right soundtrack. Contrary to what you might think, you wont hear that much pan flute music in Peru, especially in Lima. Rather 80s music dominates, the cheesier the better. Yes, Lima is constant yacht rock party, and ELO is on regular rotation. I can even prove this empirically: during a one week period I heard Lionel Ritchie's "Hello" twice, and saw the video once.
Neither Hall nor Oates. |
Ok, with that, we are ready to begin.
I wake up very early every morning to milk the llamas and slaughter the guinea pigs (which the locals call cuy) for breakfast. Then, I shower, brush my teeth, put on a snazzy suit, and cut a dashing figure as I walk out my apartment door, as befits a man representing the Crown. Passing the guardsman (who the Peruvians call, funny enough, wacheemen) I cross the threshold to do battle with the swarm-of-cars who dare me to cross the street without the benefit of traffic lights or human decency (it's much like a real-life game of Frogger if you will. But you have run out of quarters). If all goes well, I arrive safely at the Great Canadian Lodge, even if a little frazzled and smelling slightly of diesel (it's ok, so does everyone else).
Who wachees the wachee men? |
When I reach work I
Once safely at home, slightly more frazzled and diesel-smelling, I settle down and cry into my miserable dinner of quinoa and potato, pathetically sad with loneliness.
No, just kidding. Seriously, I have a fantastic life, where, depending on the night I can look forward to
That pretty much sums it up.
This weekend, I expect to begin my surfing tutelage, so watch this space for exciting photos of me on the beach, and perhaps even of my new surfing buddies, or at least of the guys who kick sand in my face.
Oh, and the sun has started to come out. Happy spring!