No es la cerveza...

A first country-hopping blog entry, with fatigued eyes and something of an encouraged soul.

I'm madly typing these lines at the Flying Dog Backpacker's Hostal, in Miraflores (translation look! flowers!), a nice somewhat touristy suburb of Lima. Central Lima is pretty dirty and not so interesting, but Miraflores sits on a cliff about 70 meters above the beach, where there are a ton of sunbathers and surfers. I've been at this hostal three nights, two whole days in South America.

Night number one, I got in about 1am and immediately went next door for a cold beer before some hardcore sleeping, and met some really interesting people, jumping into remarkably profound conversation with a Peruvian student named Elia, about what it means to be a 'ser humano', which translates into 'to be human'. The spanish term has always seemed to me to cover a lot more ground, as it includes the verb. Seems like 'being' human is somehow different than simply being 'a human', in two separate terms. Perhaps that doesn't make sense. (My English communication skills are already deteriorating, but my spanish has quickly returned, I actually am quite fluent talking about most anything, only getting tripped up on not-so-pedestrian vocab words, which I then have to talk my way around. E.g. Freckles are "those sort of spots that appear on your skin or arms, sometimes when it is sunny.") Anyhow, it was encouraging to get right off the plane and jump into it, real people with interesting things to say. It helped that I sat down with my book, 'The Alchemist' in spanish - a great travelers' read about following your 'Personal History'. A fine conversation piece, and certain to bring out those profound transcendental and spiritual overtones that aren't always easy to get to while speaking to a stranger at a bar. I said goobye to my new bartending friends, Mery, a lovely and busty young bartender, Alexander, the 32 year old Peruvian with Carson Daly's face, and Niko (I think...), who made up the token minority (Japanese) behind the bar.

(I breaked here for some taxi-haggling, a flight over some rugged andean terrain down to a town called Juliaca, some more haggling, and a bus ride to Puno, a Peruvian city on Lake Titicaca.)

I do have a lot to say, but I netiher want to overwhelm myself nor my blog-readers. I must leave this blog hanging for the time being, as I really am seeing spots, experiencing some pretty intense bouts with altitude sickness, having come from the Pacific Ocean to Puno, at around 12500 feet. (for comparison, the highest peak in the continental U.S. is about 14,500ft. ) I just had some Alpaca steak, which was good while it was hot, but I had to break a fever for about 10 minutes in the middle of my meal, sweating as if I were jumping rope in a Sauna. I need to sip some Mate de Coca - some tea made from Coca leaves, from which I think they also produce something else - and hit the sack. I have some floating islands to visit tomorrow, and some serious blog updating to do. I have never seen rain like this. Gracias a Dios for waterproofing. hasta luego...