Charmer

Taking a taxi in Lima is a bargaining affair and the prices always start high since I'm clearly a foreigner.  Whether or not I will budge on a price is a combination of how well I know the fare and how badly I want to get home.  Some days, I'll pay a little more but other days, I fight and fight and then sometimes just walk away.

When a driver submits his opening offer with the diminutive of soles, which is solcitos, there's no doubt in my mind that he's trying to rip me off. Why emphasis the smallness of your offer if it's a fair price?

Last week, the solcitos made an appearance.

Driver: "Ten solcitos."
Me: "No, eight."
Driver: "Um...nine."
Me: "No, I'll pay eight."
Driver: "Nine soles, because I have a clean car just for you, señorita."

And with an eye roll, I opened the door and hopped into the back seat. Then sun had come out that day, which is gladly welcomed in our sun-less Lima winter, but when it comes out, it's hot. I was dressed for winter in summer weather and simply wanted to get home. So the extra sol was worth it, just to get home and ride in clean car.

Vacation Ends

     Monday morning it's back to my 5:30am alarm, long commute, private classes and adorable kids. Today I am sad for the loss of my vacation, but a beautiful day can easily make up for that. Especially when it includes a ceviche lunch, with an ocean view and my favorite guy in all the Americas.

Point for Peru: Location, Location

I grew up in West Palm Beach, Florida. For most of my childhood, the ocean was no more then ten minutes away from my house. It became a constant fixture in my life and simply blended in with everything around me. That is, of course, until my family moved to landlocked Tennessee and everyone I knew spent their summers "at the lake". Maybe it's not so bad if you grow up with it, but I think lake water is disgusting. It's murky, dingy and there are mysterious slimy things lurking at the bottom. After my first lake experience I realized the true glories of the South Floridian waters.

It's a treat to be once again living along the coast, albeit a completely different one. Unfortunately, this coast doesn't boast golden beaches or warm waters. The sand is grey and the waters are cold, but I don't need the perfect beach day to enjoy coastal living. All I need is to look out my window and see the ocean off in the distance. To spend lazy Sundays walking along the coastal parks. I like looking out and thinking about the thousands of miles of ocean that separate me from land.

But Peru´s great location isn´t limited to its coastline. Within this one country, you can enjoy beaches, mountains, deserts and the jungle. The Andes Mountains divide Peru into three distinct regions: the coast, the mountains and the jungle. Nearly 60% of the country lies within the Amazon basin. This geographical diversity is a source of great pride for Peruvians. The idea of "the coast, mountains and jungle" resonnates in almost everything: talks of food, regional cultures, national poems and great landscapes. All with good reason, it´s a rare thing that you can experience such great diversity all within the same country.

Hello, sunshine!

Something magical happens when the sun starts shining in Lima. Most winter days are plagued by this dreary fog that covers the city. Though the temperature usually stays in the mid-60s, the mix of fog and humidity makes for a chilly day. Add in the absence of sun and the days are downright depressing.

It's been months since I have seen the sunshine on a regular basis. A few weeks ago, Lima experienced a small tremor. Alvaro swears that when there is an earthquake, the sun comes out. For as long as he has been telling me this, I have been calling him crazy. Well, don't know you know, we had a tremor and then the sun came out. He calls it science. I say it's a fluke.

For the past ten days or so, we've been having pretty consistent sunshine and I noticed something, the sun completely changes my attitude towards Peru. In the morning fog, I might complain about my expat life and dream about how easy it would be to go home to the States. But when the sun comes out around noon, and I am drinking a cold Inka-Kola, I think, "There's no better place than where I am right now." I marvel at the dirt covered mountains and notice palm trees I had long ignored. I am intrigued, not frustrated by Spanish and find my school children endearing, even in their lunacy.

It's astounding what a good dose of Vitamin D can do for the soul. Thanks, Mr. Sun!