How to Pick up a Hooker in a Blackout.

We arrived in Trujillo (affectionately pronounced True-Jillo when mildly drunken and True-Hee-yo correctly) yesterday morning at 6am. I handled the aggressive cabbies as we blindly searched for a place to stay in our Loneley Planet guide. Our dependence on this heavy little book is frustrating - quite often the "LP" is better than nothing, but very little more than that. Anyhow, the cab brought us to someone´s house, which we thought was La Casa de Clara, listed in the LP, but which turned out to be La Casa de Clara´s sister. We napped and hopped a collectivo out to some pre-Inca ruins outside of the city, wandering around in the desert for a while before stumbling upon the remains of a mud city which housed some 60,000 people during the 14th century.
We split a cab back into town with a couple from North Carolina, and then received some unsolicited advice from our cab driver regarding how to properly hire a hooker, a "Lolita" or "Lola", as they are called here. He also recommended some discotecas for the upcoming everning.
We hopped out of the cab, relaxed in the Plaza de Armas, internetted, and picked up stuffs for dinner at the central market - olives, peppers, onions, bread, and at the grocery store, where we shamelessly flirted with the meat counter girls for more free samples. I was in a great mood, ready to cook and go out for a crazy Trujillan saturday.

After a half bottle of Ron Limón, Ryan showered and I fell right to sleep after promising not to do so. I knew I had to rally, so I hopped downstairs to hit the shower, finding myself naked when the lights went off. Thinking Ryan was playing a trick, I hollered, only to find that 50 year old Luis Mejía, a resident of the home, was outside the bathroom. He informed me that the entire city was out of power. No matter, I dressed and we hit the street, looking for trouble. We took a cab towards one of the discotecas our previous cabby had recommended, driving through some parts of the city that still had power, when all the lights went out. Surreal, a few roadside trash fires the only light apart from headlights. For some reason, the cab driver stopped and dropped us at a different nightclub, called Burbujas (bubbles). We asked the bouncer if there was light in the club. He nodded affirmative, and when we entered we found that the light in the entire bar consisted of exactly one candle behind the bar.
Ryan and I ordered a couple of beers, which we got free with our 10 sol entrance, and one minute later the following conversation ensued:
R: So I´m pretty sure we just ended up in a Peruvian strip club.
Z: Why do you say that?
R (motioning with his head): The poles and the mirrors on that stage were the real tip-off.
Z: Huh. Holy shit. There did seem to be a lot of scantily clad girls lying languidly on leather sofas when we walked in.

So there we were, in a strip club completely by accident, the visibility extremely limited. I made friends with a cute mini-skirted employee who told me initially that her name was Acira. After we discussed our respective families, she told me her real name was Berta, and she was third of eight children from near Cuzco. I bought her a drink, a very expensive whisky, because, as I told Ryan, that is what you do in a strip club, I suppose, buy a stripper a drink. As I was chatting with Acira/Berta, a very aggressive blonde was waving her tits all over Ryan´s personal space, asking him what his favorite dessert was (hers was chocolate cake), calling him "Bonito", and complementing his sexy lips. He was very uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but I was having a very nice, civil conversation with the stripper at the barstool next to me. She liked to dance to Michael Jackson, she told me. Eventually, Ryan somehow got his stripper to leave him alone, and we decided to wait it out at the club until the lights turned back on. It was my first time in a strip club - his too - and we thought we ought to actually see somebody strip. Besides, we were guilt free, as we were, after all, there by complete accident. Soon enough, the lights returned and a bassy voice announced the first performer, a curvy-hipped young lady wearing a see-through white nighty. She had chosen "All for One" to dance to, the perfect choice, I thought. A classy dancer, she was. Bryan Adams, Sting, and Rod Stewart would have approved, for sure. I laughed heartily, and we nursed our beers until the second performer came on a few minutes later, girating herself out of a pair of leopard-print panties to the tune of some latin american rock. Two was enough for us; I kissed Acira goodbye on the cheek, and she told me to take care of myself as we headed out the door.
We took a cab to the central plaza, where a multitude of scantily clad teenagers were populating the streets. Later on, I was told by a boy selling cigarrettes, the older girls would come out of the woodwork and the young ones would go home to their watch-watching parental units. I had a sarcastic argument wit the 15 year old cigarette (and anything else) vendor about his asking price for a porro (trans: joint) and then we met Gónzalo, a 31 year old Trujillan who was celebrating his friend Marcelo´s birthday in the plaza. We joined the party after finding that no beer stores were open, and I handed over 10 sol to Gónzalo to pick up some Pisco (the quintessential Peruvian Liquor). They returned with the booze and some fruit juice, and Ryan and I went to town, trying to get our fill before the others drank up our limited funds. Two guys were playing a guitar and recorder and singing. A great atmosphere in which to booze a bit and chat up some locals.
Ryan and I left the plaza in a cab with two girls, Karina and Vanessa, and got out God-Knows-Where at a drive-in club out of town called "La Barra". Teeming with Peruvians, it was a Grease-like atmosphere, with people making out in between hot rods and volkswagen bugs. A huge dance floor was set up in part of the compound, and various stands sold beer, only in big 600mL bottles. Part of the club was a lit up pub with chairs and tables and a pool table, but most was just open space for people to bump into one another, drink, and dance. While buying our first beer, the guy in line was adamant about telling me to watch my step - apparently the place was dangerous, and Ryan and I made up the entire white population of La Barra. Ryan danced most of the night with Vanessa, leaving me to entertain Karina, a very sweet 25 year old surgical assistant who may join us at the cinema this evening. Plenty of girls in that place, though, and Ryan and I certainly felt like the exotic catch, getting eyes from everywhere while making beer or bathroom trips.
We made the most of the night at La Barra, dropping the girls at Vanessa´s place right after we learned that she was married to a German fellow and arriving at our casa even later than we had arrived the previous day from the bus station - around 6:30am. People were jogging in the streets, and the Señora who owns the house was just waking up. I tossed my old contacts across the room and shut my eyes until after noon, having been up more or less for 24 hours.

Today the emptiness behind my eyes must have been painfully visible. Accomplishing very little today was no trouble at all, though we did consume our healthy breakfast of banana, mango, yogurt, and granola and spend some time hanging out in the plaza later this afteroon. A peruvian film, "La Mujer de mi Hermano", and a good night´s sleep is about to treat me just right.