It's Peru, Baby.

Warding Off Altitude Sickness

2009-01-13T04:49:00.003Z

Everyone recommends Mate de Coca (Coca leaf tea) to help with soroche - altitude sickness.

Actually, althought we are something like 11, 000ft above sea-level in Cusco it's nowhere near as bad as in Puno (some 1600ft higher) where we all had a headache, shortness of breath and general weirdness.

Here in Cusco it's easy to get puffed walking around, but lashing of Mate de Coca seems to help. At least we don't have to chew it!

Floating Islands of Lake Titicaca

2009-01-12T04:04:00.002Z

We couldn't miss the floating reed islands of Lake Titicaca. We liked it so much we even went native!

Bed Bus to Arequipa

2009-01-12T03:21:00.003Z

The journey by bus cama (a 'bed bus' with reclining seats) to Arequipa from Lima takes a grueling 16 hours. It is mostly along the winding costal road which means it is at times breathtaking - quite literally (Katie!). Tito and I were right at the front, on the right of the bus, on the second floor for this journey. This meant when we woke up we got views like these! I wondered aloud how many buses plunge through the puny 30cm barriers off the cliff onto the rocks below and sink to the bottom of the ocean. "Two" said Tito. "Two? What do you mean? Has this happened?!?". "Yes, two out of three go off the cliffs ." Tito kindly reassured me...

I Got Laser Eye Surgery!

2009-01-07T16:24:00.003Z

Just thought I´d stop by for a spot of corrective eye surgery whilst in Lima! Ok, Ok, I didn´t really take the decision so lightly - I have been researching it for over two years. When Chika came back from Japan after having had it done inexpensively I started to consider getting it done abroad. The only thing stopping me in the UK was the crazy price (as I have, no , HAD a very strong prescription it would cost over 3000 pounds!).

When we arrived in Lima over three weeks ago Tito´s cousin Julia mentioned she´d had it done, and had such a great doctor, Dr. Miguel Mendoza, that she´d recommended him to family and friends, about 8 of whom had then also gotten the surgery. The cost? About 400 pounds. Same German wavefront technology, a stylish and clean private clinic. So I signed up and got the surgery the day before yesterday. My eyesight still settling and will take a week or two to become perfect but the operation went very well - no pain - and I am able to use the computer already!

I adore Lima and want to do an update (not only here for the surgery - have also been to a water fountain park, smart Miraflores district and the Gold Museum) but don´t want to strain my eyes. We are off to Arequipa tonight on a bed bus. Will try to post more pictures there...

Chiclayo Street Scenes

2008-12-30T19:30:00.007Z

Selling grapes outside the post office

A newpaper seller's siesta

Quail's egg trolley

Beer diaster

Aful school

Ch– Ch- Ch– Changes to Chiclayo

2008-12-30T18:44:00.004Z

Chiclayo has absolutely exploded in the past four years. Incredibly, there’s no easily discernable sign of the global recession – everything here is bigger, better and more bustling than ever before. Although it is a dusty, parched costal desert city (aptly described in popular guidebooks as ‘rough and ready’) Chiclayo is a vital central trading hub for poor rural towns and villages. There is plenty of evidence of wealth: the latest 4x4s crowd the beaches and a well-heeled, cocaine-fueled crowd hangs out in casinos and nightclubs.

It is a place of contrasts. Shiny-floored new restaurants boast eclectic menus; shops are crammed with clothes, computers, mobile phones and shoes; markets are heavy with the smells of too many people, squashed fruit, animals, witches’ herbs, sewage and street-side cebiche. Street sellers crouch on the dirty curbs to sell sweets and biscuits; street children pester for small change. It’s now safer to drive with the re-surfaced roads and new traffic lights – but it’s still hair-raising amongst the moto-taxis and carts.

In the Plaza Central, in front of the vast, banana-yellow cathedral, there is a now a seasonal twinkling display of Christmas lights and gift wrapped trees sponsored by big companies and universities. It looks really cheerful and festive, and draws great gaping crowds there to mill around aimlessly - and others to persistently attempt to flog candy apples, candy floss and Winnie the Pooh dolls made of balloons to them.

I was amazed at the size of Tottus, a brand new supermarket that we visited last night. It is at least four times as big as any of the supermarkets that existed here four years ago. There are two of these huge new supermarkets on the edge of the city, surrounded by vast shopping plazas and other large hardware and electronic shops. Although these developments have brought a another dimension of shopping experience to Chiclayo – something clean, orderly, safe, as pricey as America or Europe – the chasm between the rich and poor means that the centre of town and the lively markets continue to thrive. And I am happy to say, so do the corner shops, which provide a meeting place and sense of community that I hope will never be lost.

Many restaurants seem to have been re-done, including a place where we always used to go for cheap fried yuca chips and anticuchos (skewered beef heart). It was a bit of a dive, but now by all accounts it is too big for its boots and not as tasty. There is a gigantic ‘Roky’s’ chicken restaurant with plate glass windows and comfy booths, the likes of which we had previously only seen in Lima. Half a ‘broaster’ chicken with chips and salad costs an extortionate 19 soles ($6) instead of the 14 soles next door, but the place is big, bright and has a kids’ play area resembling a castle filled with balls and slides. Move over McDonalds!

On that note, I am happy to say there is still no McDonalds, but there is a Starbucks and small branches of Pizza Hut and Kentucky Fried Chicken in the Real Plaza, so it may only be a matter of time. Let’s hope people have enough sense to stick to their homegrown, cheaper, and far superior versions of fast food! After all, Peru was the only country where another pop reigned supreme over Coca-Cola (the mighty Inka Cola)... until Coke bought it up, that is!

José Alejandro’s Baptism Shock: Vanessa Lies to a Priest!

2008-12-30T18:14:00.007Z

On Saturday we became godparents for the second time, of Tito’s cousin’s adorable little boy, José Alejandro IV. Whereas Keila’s baptism took place in a large church with at least thirty children going through the ceremony at the same time, José Alejandro’s was in a tiny old sides street church, and the ceremony was shared with just one other child.

The church, ‘Capilla Centenaria – Nuestra Senora Madre de la Misericordia’ is really rather quaint. Gold paint and varnished wood features heavily in the décor and a splendid Virgin with long black curly hair loftily presides from on high. The baptism ceremony felt intimate and special and the Father addressed me directly, checking if I understood what he was saying. I did indeed!

After the ceremony we went into a tiny room to sign as godparents. “So, you are from England?” said the friendly Father with a firm handshake – “What part?”. “Do you speak Spanish? How long are you here in Chiclayo for? What parts have you visited?” he queried with a kindly smile. Then: “Of course, you are a practising Catholic?” he inquired.

Having been to the talk the night before about how only baptised Catholics could become godparents I knew there was only one answer: “Yes, of course.” I smiled.

Peruvian Food Part One

2008-12-27T17:45:00.010Z

The first time Tito ever made me breakfast at his aparto in

Japan

he served me: soda crackers, plump purple olives, manjarblanco caramel, butter, cheese and pieces of apple. I thought it was pretty weird at the time, but enjoyed it nonetheless. Since then I have come to realise that it was a pretty standard Peruvian breakfast (except maybe the soda crackers – here they go out to get fresh white baps most mornings). I have also come to love it, and requested mantecoso cheese (creamy, aged dairy goodness) and the salty, meaty purple olives for our second breakfast here. Together, they make a great sandwich.

After drinking half a litre of delicious creamy lucuma (a wonderful ancient fruit that I am more then slightly obsessed with) drinking yogurt and totally breaking my stomach on the first day, I have laid off the stuff. It is SO popular, with huge rows of different types of drinking yogurt dominating the supermarket aisles. I might dare to try it again soon. In the meantime, I have enjoyed lucuma ice-cream at the beach, and a lucuma chupete (homemade lolly) in town.

Of course, the national dish cebiche is ever-popular and highly celebrated. I have had a little, but would like to have lashings of the stuff. Basically, fish and seafood, raw but marinated in limon, is served with thinly sliced red onion and hot rocoto pepper. There are many variations – the picture here is of a cebiche Tito had in Lima (I didn’t dare after the yogurt fiasco) with sweet potato, corn and seaweed. It was nice, I believe, but lacked the zing of a Chiclayo cebiche. I have decided that I am going to go all out with the cebiche - possibly tomorrow for the hangover (we are becoming godparents again this afternoon) - and sod the consequences!

FELIZ NAVIDAD!

2008-12-26T18:26:00.006Z

Happy Christmas! I am thinking about all the wonderful friends and family I have all around the world enjoying Christmas in different ways. .. have a lovely time with friends and family and I can't wait to see you soon!

I didn't post this photo of Tito enjoying the beach at Las Rocas yesterday on Christmas Day as I was exhausted after staying up until 6.30am on Christmas eve!

As is the custom, we stayed up until 12am, when Jesus is placed in the nativity. We all gave a little speech, and then sat down to turkey and garbanzos, paneton and cinnamon-infused hot chocolate. After this, the children could finally open their presents. Talk about patience!

At about 2.30am Tito and I went out to see some Cecelia and Elwin at their corner shop (it is a major social meeting point and is always open!). We crashed out when we got home, had turkey for breakfast at 12 noon and then went to the beach with my mum. It was totally packed with families celebrating Christmas. At this time of year the water is still cold, but the sun is blazing and it is so invigorating to dive under the strong waves.

Keila's Baptism

2008-12-24T15:19:00.004Z

The baptism went very well on Saturday, with the party lasting until four in the morning! We are now Keila's godparents, which is rather nice. Mostly, I am pleased to have a valid reason to spoil and generally favour her!!!

Before the event we went to a very boring, two-hour talk at the church about godparents' responsibilities, and how you have to be baptised yourself to be godparents, so I was slightly worried that someone would discover I'm not Catholic at all in any way. But absolutely everyone in Peru is Catholic, so they don't check. Phew.

After the ceremony some serious Peruvian partying ensued, with a massive sound system installed in the living room that vibrated the walls. Of course, dancing was obligatory. About 50 people came and worked their way through the ten cases of beer we got in!

Mi Wanpi

2008-12-20T13:19:00.005Z

This is my lovely doggy Wanpi. In the four years we've been away she has been very well looked after by the family. The household includes two vets - Perla and Wooloo - as well as our four little nieces - so she hasn't lacked attention!

I wasn't sure how she would react to our presence. I wasn't sure whether or not to take her out with us because we will have to leave her again so soon. But since life is lived in the moment we decided to simply enjoy her whilst we can...

Wanpi is just the same as she always was, absolutely devoted and following me from room to room. She even wants to come in the loo with me! She was waiting outside the bedroom for me yesterday when Celeste (5) tried to move her - she did not take kindly to this a gave her a nip!

Today is Keila's (10) baptism - we are going to be godparents! I am much more excited about this than I expected to be because it will give me an extra excuse to spoil her. She is a gorgeous girl, top of the class, extemely good-natured and pretty too.

I've got to go and get ready now. I am going to wear my red dress and black feathery fascinator - the likes of which may not have been seen before in Chiclayo! I fully expect to draw a crowd curious to know why on earth the gringa has a chicken on her head.

The reception will be held at the house. I've got a pink t-shirt with dimante studs and a sparkly blue collar for Wanpi to wear too. Yes, I'm insane.

Tito has just come back with the cake (it's white with a sugar church on top complete with baptism-inspired interior!) and fresh buns for breakfast so I had better go.

It's Tito's 40th!

2008-12-18T23:19:00.004Z

It's Tito 40th birthday today. I am writing this quick post whilst some family and friends sit around the table, passing a glass of Pilsen around, telling rude and deeply politically incorrect jokes about incest and homosexuality and laughing hysterically.

We are supposed to go to the church again tonight to listen to a 2-hour talk about becoming godparents. But 8 - 10pm on Tito's birthday is a bit tough. They don't take registration so I think we might have to play hooky.

Took our four nieces to the beach today. It's the beginning of summer here, so it's hot in the sun, but with a sneaky cool breeze. We squashed into the car along with my mum and drove out to Las Rocas (where we had our wedding reception). Loads of fun splashing in the bracing water and building sandcastles.

Cecelia's Suprise

2008-12-18T15:50:00.007Z

My dear friend Cecelia and I have, admittedly, been very poor at keeping in touch.

She doesn't use email and my phone Spanish is shocking. And of course, writing 'letters' is just too passé.

Still, I didn't expect this!

(Not the Santa, I mean. He's to be expected. It is Christmas, after all).

Yvonne is 9 months old, enjoys milk, hanging out with Santa and has lovely long eyelashes. Cecelia and partner, El Mono (the monkey!) are besotted!

She is absolutely gorgeous.

!Qué sorpresa!

Back in Peru!

2008-12-17T16:58:00.009Z

We're back in Peru for five weeks, after almost four years absence. Can't believe it's been so long... we left in April 2005, just after our wedding. This time, we've brought my mum with us too!

Being here in Peru feels so much different this time around - I feel like I have come home. I speak the language. Tito's family is now my family - I'm a Villalobos! Tito's friends are now my friends too - we shared a lot of good times.

Four days in we are getting into the swing of things. Just about over the jet lag. In Lima we had the loudest hotel room EVER (across from a road full of 24 hour discos!). That didn't stop us sleeping after the grueling 27-hour trip from London though!

Loving the food. Drinking yogurt is popular here, and I got a delicious 'lucuma' fruit flavoured yogurt from Wong supermarket. Unfortunately, that gave me explosive diarrhoea which I managed to sort out with four different types of medicine just in the nick of time before our 14 hour bus-cama (bed-bus) trip up to Chiclayo!

We arrived just in time for breakfast with the family...

Spring has Sprung

2006-04-04T08:24:00.000+01:00

Well, spring finally seems to have arrived and I am ridiculously excited. Finally, to unthaw my buttocks, shed my vest and cut my toenails! When I open my window in the morning, the twittering of birds now adds to the cacophony of sirens and traffic... it's grand. I even have a pert bunch of daffodils on my dressing table. I had begun to think spring would never come, but I suppose it's similar to 'the darkest time comes before the dawn' thing. Roll on summer!

London Moment

2006-03-14T08:19:00.000Z

As I finished my first day at my shiny new job yesterday, I took a stroll down the road from Tottenham Court Road to Holborn. The sun was shining weakly through still bare branches, and the wind was chill and blustery, but the birds were all chirping about spring. The buildings lining the road looked intriguing, quite beautiful, and I had the feeling that everything was indeed going to be just fine. I've been waiting for a 'London Moment' for ages... sometimes I've had a shadow of one, but never quite that distinct feeling that must come and settle of its own accord. You know, that feeling where everything's right, you catch the vibe of the place and feel like you are really, properly a part of it. The past, well - almost a year, has been about finding our place here, where to go, how to get there, what to do when you do get there, and sometimes London just feels like a big sprawl of hurrying faceless commuters and congestion. It's better when you do take the time to look up and admire the buildings, the trees, the birds... erm - but not in Notting Hill Gate where I have been working for 10 months in a hideous 60's monstrosity typical of the area. I am so glad to be rid of that draining and negative situation! My escape came at the right time, I'd just been paid up, and spring is precisely when the language schools begin desperately seeking staff. I applied for my new job last Monday, had an interview on Wednesday, observed a lesson on Friday and started yesterday. This place is full of Europeans and Japanese on short courses looking to enjoy London and have fun. They also have high expectations of the school, and can be demanding, but it is a really refreshing atmosphere to work in. My main aim for the (hopefully!) 6 months leading up to my PGCE is to have fun and try not to take things too seriously at work. Also, fingers crossed, Tito will be working on a site at the British Museum next week, so we'll be just around the corner from each other, which will be nice!

Got it!

2006-02-27T19:08:00.000Z

I'm pretty well chuffed to find I have a place on the PGCE in secondary English at Kings! They sent the 'unconditional acceptance' email on Friday, the day after my interview, but I only checked today. Now, just to secure the funding and I'll be properly sorted. I'd say a celebration is in order after that - not before!

We have the technology!

2006-02-21T17:22:00.000Z

Crikey! I'm on t'internet! In Starbucks! On my own little laptop! Shame it costs 5 quid an hour or I'd do it all the time... Desperation drove me to discover this technological innovation; my Word program keeps threatening me too register it and my Norton antivirus insists it needs updating (they're both happy now, thank goodness). Still haven't got the internet in our room yet, but I vow I am going to get on it as soon as I've had my interview for a place on the PGCE course at King's College (Thursday). At the moment I am desperately trying activate memory of Blake, Byron, Keats, Shelley, The Brontes, Larkin, The Pearl Poet, Mystery plays, Everyman, Woolf, etc. which have long lay hidden! I'd like to be able to say something, anything, intelligent about what I studied. In fact, it's been great looking all the stuff up again, I forgot how much I actually do enjoy literature. In Japan I was 3 hours away from the nearest English bookshop, and in Peru 12 hours - so I haven't exactly been a voracious reader of late. I've immersed myself in Japanese and Spanish, which has been great, but isn't exactly what I need in my brain at the moment. Well, I need to prepare a bit more for the interview, but I'll let you know how it goes. I hope they give me a place, it'll make my life so much easier. I'm excited!

Long Time No Blog

2006-02-14T18:04:00.000Z

If you still have the patience to keep checking back here, thank you very much for your perseverence. The gap between this entry and my last one has, in fact, been my longest ever. This is due to the fact that I have no access to the internet at work or at home. Also, as I have probably mentioned, I am attempting to write a book about my time in Peru. Well, those are my excuses and I'm sticking to them... However, I do miss my blog and blog buddies. That's why I am here in this internet cafe on Valentine's evening instead of cooking my hubby's dinner - guilt. Thus, what I am going to do is start a new blog, very soon, and I hope to get internet at home. The new blog is very much likely to be loosely food based. So, please check back soon! Right, I am off home to pulverise my man's meat... I just got a lovely piece of steak from the butcher's on North End Road, you see.

Back to Shambolic College!

2006-01-11T09:20:00.000Z

I'm starting the new term with a new attitude. Having now fully digested the fact that my boss is a maniac and this college a nuthouse, I am working to preserve my sanity. I'm not joking, by the way (in that 'you don't have to be crazy to work here, but if you are, it helps' manner)... Kaveh is totally illogical and by listening to him you begin to doubt your own sanity in persisting working here. My new way of dealing with things will involve going with the flow, avoiding rage against the machine, plus a hefty dose of laughter - if not with, then certainly at, the students. My high points so far:
1) When asked by a student (who failed my class last term) if he could leave early on the first day of class in order to meet his friend I replied smilingly, and with a shrug, "Why not? It's your decision." He scarpered, I marked him absent. Easy!
2) The students filled in the end of conversational questions to ask their classmates, by way of getting to know them. To finish 'Where do you usually...?' a dead-pan Vietnamese boy wrote '...hide when you are being hunted'. Without a glimmer of a smirk he wrote down my reply 'In the closet'.
3) Further to the above, a dappy Iranian girl completed 'Are you...?' with '...going out with my grandfather.' What?

Akemashite Omedeto Gozaimasu

2006-01-03T22:15:00.000Z

Happy New Year! January 1st found myself and Tito, for the first time in memory, completely without hangovers. It was quite pleasant to look forward to the challenges of the year ahead without waves of nausea and cold sweats, in fact I'd highly recommend it. I'd also recommend the superb rack of lamb we found ourselves devouring as midnight struck... courtesy of friends Liz and Jason, who, along with their new baby Marcus, we were staying with. Now we are at my dad and Carol's, in sunny Lancs. Relaxing and scoffing - though I dared to weigh myself yesterday and have concluded from henceforth this will have to stop.

My New Year's Resolution:

TO WRITE A NOVEL!

Peruvians in Japan

2005-12-07T13:06:00.000Z

Thanks to Katie for this link to an article in The Guardian online:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/elsewhere/journalist/story/0,7792,1659724,00.html

I thank my lucky stars that Tito is over here in multi-cultural England with me today, rather than still in a Japan which is developing increasingly hostile opinions of the barbaric foreigners in their midst... especially Peruvians, of whom there are many. Peruvian and Japanese cultures are worlds apart - in fact they are pretty much the polar opposite of each other in terms of behaviour and customs. It's easy to see how the expressive and excitable Peruvians can become scapegoats for the ills of modern Japanese society. When I left Tito in Japan in the summer of 2003 I was extremely concerned as I knew that the police had begun to stop visible (non-white) minorities in public places to ask for their 'gaijin' foreigner card - something that Tito didn't have. He had to travel repeatedly down to Tokyo and Yokohama to apply for permission to leave (as an overstayer of over 10 years!) and thankfully had no dealings with the police before leaving in February 2004. However, I feel for his friends who have felt the attitudes of their host culture grow steadily more suspicious due to the flagrant scare-mongering of the media. True, the persecuted Peruvians choose to remain working in Japan of their own free will, but when they are supporting, feeding and educating their families back home, what choice do they have?

Update

2005-12-06T16:34:00.000Z

Term time at David Game College has finished. I am now teaching just two and a half hours a day - a private class with a charming Iranian girl called Shirin. She is absolutely scrumptious (aptly, Shirin means 'sweet' in Farsi) and, frankly, it is just so nice to have a break from repeatedly urging monosyllabic youths to refrain from using their mobiles/drawing on the desk/drooling on the desk during class. Shirin is working really hard as she wants to enter the University Foundation Programme in January, and at present her English is pretty poor. She's very motivated, which is delightful. So, what am I doing with the other twenty-one and a half hours of free time each day? you may well ask. Well, I am expecting my first ever laptop to be delivered any moment now, and thus am currently working on my outlines in order to finally type up my short stories. It's really exciting to be getting on with them at long last. I am certainly not short of ideas, I simply need to mentally spew them onto paper! Ahem. Other than that, I am very much enjoying existing in Fulham. Our gym, Fitrooms, is superb (never thought I'd hear myself say that!) and we are relishing trying out the local bars, restaurants and curry houses. Tito has just put up some Christmas lights in our room, and I bought a nice pointsettia. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in our cozy attic room. Right, I'm off to write Christmas cards...

PGCE

2005-11-18T12:17:00.000Z

It seems that turning 28 may have affected my brain in a quite bizarre and unforseeable way: I am applying to do a secondary school level PGCE next year. Of all the things I have ever wanted to do for a career teaching has certainly never figured. I have always sworn I'd never do it, somehow missing the fact that I have indeed been teaching all along. Interestingly, a lot of my friends are in fact also teachers, and virtually all of them say the same... that they never wanted to teach. I think it has all boiled down to the 'settling down' instinct. Teaching is secure, with a decent salary, benefits, pension, and of course... those holidays. I have accidentally been teaching for 7 years already, so walking into a classroom is as natural as breathing for me - essentially this a career which will not require re-wiring my brain at this stage of my life, and that appeals to me. I yearn to become a writer, and teaching seems to provide a base which will allow me the security and the time to do so. I would, of course, teach English literature and language - which I believe has the potential to be quite inspiring for me (despite whatever it may be for my students!). These are some of the positive aspects, and believe me, I've spared a thought for the negatives too: the disciplining, the paperwork, the lack of low-cut tops from my working wardrobe. I am not guaranteed to get a place on a course, and I am not guaranteed to get home student funding ('A home student is one who has lived in the UK for 3 years directly before the start of their course, except for temporary absences, and not including years spent in full-time education')... and I suppose I am not even guaranteed to get a job after even if I do get both a place and funding. Nevertheless, I am going to give it a shot. Same goes for the writing, I have officially begun work on my long-imagined complilation of short stories. The important thing is to enjoy both, and try my best, no? Gambarimasu!

Fulham - here we come!

2005-10-24T15:00:00.000+01:00

We've found a cozy, furnished room in Fulham. It's in Zone 2, so the usual exorbitant rent applies, but overall it'll still save us over 200 pounds a month, in comparison to what we are paying now! Even better, my journey to work will be reduced down to about 20 minutes, straight up on the District line to Notting Hill. This is going to be living in London proper, which I reckon we might as well do while we're here - to try all that city living has to offer. It'll be a totally new experience to be just about in the thick of things, as neither Tito nor myself have ever really lived in a big city before. The room is above a shop (which, incidentally sells imported Buddhist paraphenalia - hope the vibes drift upwards!) and less than 5 minutes walk to the tube - a walk past a dangerous-looking Turkish delight shop, as well as copious other enticing bars, shops and restaurants. It's an extremely pleasant and convenient area. We'll miss the quiet and leafy greenness of Crystal Palace, but we realise that type of living is more appropriate for those who have a good reason to be there: car or flat ownership, or perhaps a pet or children who require close proximity to the park (which is, btw, happily due to getting a good sprucing up in time for the Olympics). Tito and I have enjoyed relaxing in our flat over the summer months; getting used to being in the U.K. and having some privacy at long last. Onto our next adventure - we move in on the 28th, which is my 28th birthday - that's got to be a good omen!

Stream of Consciousness

2005-10-19T17:38:00.000+01:00

Enjoyed (?) the Banksy exhibition on the weekend (which involved lots of reworked 'old masters' paintings and a small stinking room filled with rats), meeting my old friend Caroline and her lovely bloke for a civilised catch-up, and a super salsa-ing night at the little South American nightclub 'Tito's', but that all feels like an age ago now... it's hump day once more. I am absolutely living for the weekends at the moment, as work/commuting/life is so hectic. It's great to finally be busy working again; I've earned more this month than ever before in my life! It's just a shame that the terms are so short. I wouldn't be able to do this job for much less, due to that, and the fact that the cheekiness and machismo I have endured really do go beyond my limits of endurance. But, at least it's interesting - my life of late has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster again. Even more so, as we are looking for another place to live, which I find ridiculously stressful. Where to live in such a vast metropolis? Why must it be so bloody expensive? Why do I feel so much like a little scurrying ant these days? A few days ago, as I was coming up at Notting Hill Gate tube, a man was shouting down at everyone passing "Londoners! Stop rushing around! Stop going to work! Stop moving around all the time!". I thought he had a jolly good point, though I felt I couldn't not go to work simply because a random mentalist had told me not to.

Unshiny job!

2005-10-13T18:39:00.000+01:00

I'm afraid the gloss is rapidly wearing off my shiny new students. I'm still enjoying it, but it becomes difficult to maintain my cool when I have students such as young Ali... who informed me in no uncertain manner yesterday "I shouldn't take orders from you, you're a woman". Don't be shy, lad, tell us what you really think! Well, bless him, he's probably only voicing what the rest of the predominantly Islamic, all male students in that class believe! I can't expect my boss to support me against this kind of harassment, either, seeing as he's a total maniac and has already given me shit (albeit through another colleague) for being 'impatient' with the students. My boss refused to give me all the hours I wanted 'because you're a woman' he explained, and also calls all females 'Darling'. My days here are numbered, methinks!

All the Tea in Chinatown

2005-10-07T10:25:00.000+01:00

I got to thinking that my Wednesday night meetings with Amy and Hannah are just like Sex and the City... well, except rather than a swanky, glam bar in Manhattan, we frequent a bean-paste-bun cafe in Chinatown. And, instead of fancy cocktails, our tongues are loosened by up to three pots of fragrantly steaming jasmine tea. (We're not really into drinking too much these days, you see - detox is all the rage!). There isn't a great deal of talk about raunchy sex either, though, come to think of it. Although I believe the word has been mentioned, once or twice. So then, it's completely different then, isn't it, I hear you protest! I suppose you're right. Seemingly somewhat inferior - yet infinitely more satisfying than a shiny, scripted TV programme where the friendships are equally shiny and scripted (and thus pleasingly predictable, but ultimately false). I guess the thing that's the same is the colourful, fun conversation; the gorgeous, vivid female companionship. SATC was, of course, mostly about surrounding yourself with friends who try to listen without judging, who allow, and sometimes help, you to change - and support you through those changes. Friends who give advice based on what they think would be best for you, as a unique person, and don't just churn out their pre-fabricated opinions. Watching friendship on TV is one thing. Experiencing it first-hand is entirely another - you can't control what people say or do, how they feel, who they love, or where they go. You can't press pause, stop, delete, or eject. You just hope that come what may, you'll work through it with true friends. I, for one, wouldn't trade my real-life friendships, with all their thrills, good and bad, for all the tea in Chinatown!

Fahti

2005-10-05T17:47:00.000+01:00

That's the first name of one of my Turkish students. I make a point of using the student's names a lot in class, but this one I'm finding difficult. "How are you today, Farty?" just makes me giggle too much. Another amusing name I've come across recently is Tin Man, that's the unfortunate handle of a Chinese girl. If she only had a heart! Ok, Ok, I'm going...

UFP Starts...

2005-09-28T16:57:00.000+01:00

It's 'hump' day (Wednesday!) of my second week of teaching our new intake of students onto the 'University Foundation Programme'... and I must say it's a real pleasure. They are still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and generally quite sweet - this is the most satisfying teaching I've ever done, I'm amazed and delighted to report. I do realise the new shiny gloss may rapidly wear off! I am, nonetheless, using a very good (hand-picked) textbook, with easy access to a photocopier, and other resources, and teaching students of quite acceptable intelligence, maturity, and motivation in the same, reasonably equipped classroom every day. None of these plus points have even coincided before! Whilst I can't really see my future lying with this school, it certainly has been handy. I went through a bit of a moment last week when I finally learned how short the terms are (I'm paid hourly, and the yearly total was rather a disappointing shock!), but am now looking on the bright side - it's certainly better to work few hours for decent pay than long hours for low pay!

Blasts from the Past

2005-09-12T16:09:00.000+01:00

We've had quite a weekend in terms of catching up with family and friends whom I haven't seen in ages. It's been great - a bit overwhelming for Tito perhaps - but he should count himself lucky that he doesn't have to live with/next door to/in the same town as all these people, like I did in Peru! It was my cousin Emma's wedding on Friday - I was dead chuffed to finally go to a family wedding (we missed previous ones, having lived in Canada) and was equally pleased to find I didn't have to use the pig sty in lieu of a loo (as at the last wedding we went to in Peru). It was, however, a bit of a pig to get to, being held in Stone, near Birmingham. Well, it wouldn't have been too bad, except that our train from London stopped at Birmingham International, rather than continuing on to New Street - due to vandalism of the tracks. We then waited in a massive queue, and had to take a (slow) bus into town. We missed our connection and then the next train was delayed... Anyhow, to make a long story short, we ended up having to change in the train toilet (classy!) and stumbled out, half-dressed, at Kidderminster. As the train pulled off I realised I'd left my snazzy silver party shoes on board. I was not best pleased, but luckily I was wearing a pair of leather wedges which did go better with my satin frock than trainers would have done... We fell into a taxi, sped to the Stone Manor Hotel, and rolled up at the ceremony just as the vows began. It was all much more civilised after that, a very nice time was had catching up with relatives, taking photos in the garden, scoffing, and shouting over the inevitable disco.

Then yesterday, we enjoyed the Brick Lane festival (which is FAR superior then the Notting Hill one) with some friends, before meeting up with my oldest friend Kirsten and her parents. John and Maureeen Hainsworth are the reason my parents moved to Canada, as they were good friends from back in Yorkshire, and the Hainsworths moved across the pond first. My parents went to visit them and then decided to move there themselves! Kirsten is only about 2 months younger than I, and also an only daughter, so we have always been close, in spite of distances. I have many more childhood memories with the Hainsworths than with any of my blood relatives, that's for sure. Christmases, summer holidays, staying in hotels together when our dads were at conferences... It was, then, lovely last night to find that they still feel like family; Tito was immediately at ease and got his best English out. A meal in a pub was accompanied by pleasant conversation and memories. V. nice indeed!

Notting Hill Carnival

2005-08-31T16:28:00.000+01:00

Notting Hill is still looking a bit grubby after the carnival, metal barriers are remain piled up everywhere, and the whole place seems to be coated in a thick layer of ground-in rice and peas, Red Stripe beer, and multi-national vomit. I must say I've been generally bemused by the telly and newspaper coverage of the carnival, showing elaborate costumes and beaming faces, as when Tito and I went on Sunday neither of those things were much in evidence. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and we arrived at about 2pm, generally looking forward to the experience - ever optimistic, us (though I had indeed read descriptions of the event that mentioned the possibility of much warm beer, overcrowding, and unglamourous dancers). Tito and I do pride ourselves on our ability to enjoy things against the odds, but even half a mickey of brandy and a spliff couldn't get me fired up about the straggly bunch of fat t-shirted dancers the parade seemed to offer, so we went off in search of something better. We found it in the form of the Latin Music soundsystem, and had a brilliantly fun street salsa... Tito carrying off the crown for best male hip swiveller in the vicinity; possibly in the UK. This was all very nice and civilised, but we thought we'd better explore what else was on offer. I popped to the skanky male toilets (Tito made me do it when it became apparent I'd be queuing for the ladies for about 7 hours) and then we picked up a plate of scrumptious barbecued jerk chicken and scoffed it double quick. Things, unfortunately, went downhill from that point on. We headed towards a few decent soundsystems, only to be put off by the absolutely deafening levels of sound, bouncing and echoing around the narrow streets. People blew plastic whistles and horns forcefully and indiscriminately. I immediately developed a banging headache and ringing ears. Teens pushed and shoved and occasionally caused organised panic by all starting running in the same direction at the same time. The streets were piled high with rubbish, people skidded around on plastic plates and twisted ankles on discarded beer cans. Children wailed to be taken home, but were consoled with noisemakers whilst mum tried to ram a way through the litter with the pushchair. It was absolutely horrible. We tried in vain to find relief, but it semed that we must have missed the' good bit' of the parade, if there was indeed one. By that time the shadows had begun to lengthen and it became obvious that we were being herded out of Notting Hill by the police. I was jolly pleased. Never again, I tell you, never again. But at least we know now!

Am I Having Fun Yet?

2005-08-23T15:07:00.000+01:00

The thing about working in a trendy/touristy area of central London (I teach in South Kensington and Notting Hill) is that everybody always seems to be enjoying life more than you. People linger in sunny cafes over a coffee and newspaper, directionless American tourists wander fatly along, carefree English language students gather in laughing groups on the pavement, posh yummy mummies push chubby yummy babies around the park. I scurry to work darting envious looks, ever aware that though I may covet the afternoon pub-goer's lifestyle, I'd better make a penny or two before I start. The teaching work which I wasn't sure if I would get this summer is continuing, you see. This is great, really the last thing I am in need of right now is a holiday... yet I had kinda hoped that I might have some non-optional time off to try and get some journalistic balls rolling, so to speak. I suppose it will all come in good time, with the right effort, but it's still quite a challenge to put that effort forth when I haven't got used to being married, living in London, my new job, or my totally new life yet. Kaveh, my boss, just asked me if I'd prefer to teach 6 or 8 hours a day come September, which adds to my confusion. Do I need to work flat-out at a job which I am pretty sure is fairly short-term? (Yet, he asked again if I'd like to go to China to do teacher training - is this just carrot-dangling?) Or should I use those extra hours to write? We desperately need some financial stability, and realistically, will I just end up whiling away those precious extra hours over a steamy cappucino, watching the increasingly autumnal world go by? Hmm. All I know is that busy people get things done. Sod it, I'm off to read the newspaper in Starbucks. Bye!

Summer School

2005-08-11T15:12:00.001+01:00

Bah... is it only Thursday? After almost two weeks teaching elementary level summer school students, I've almost lost track. Days on end of things like "Do you like cook?" and "Teacher, what means 'does'?" frazzle the brain somewhat. I. Also. Find. I. Am. Now. Talking. Very. Very. Slowly. Even. When. Not. In. The. Classroom. I've got some real characters... a Cameroonian lad with a perpetual snotty nose who bursts into sudden laughter and complicated hand clapping for no discernable reason, a 56 year old French-Morrocan man with a hearing problem which tends to make conversations oddly Malkovich-like, and a spotty, anorexic Iranian girl who is unbearably spoilt and lazy - but whom I have much difficulty disciplining - seeing as her MOTHER is in the class, too! Yesterday afternoon, the non-English-using Saudi Arabian boy came up to me with the word 'MISSION' on his electronic dictionary screen, grabbed his bag, and left. It's action-packed, my classroom, I tell ya. So, when I was asked this morning if I'd rather take the afternoon off, or accompany 20 students to Madam Tussaud's, the choice was easy. And here I am, cappucino in hand... finally blogging. But it's a lovely, sunny day outside, so I think I shall go and make the most of it.

Summer School

2005-08-11T15:12:00.000+01:00

All The World Is A Stage

2005-07-28T16:49:00.000+01:00

As I read Joyful Ranconteur's last entry, regarding her inability to effectively, yet casually, and entirely unofficially, blog, I realised my own blogging dilemma remains unresolved. The problem is my life is no longer entertaining in, and of, itself. Thus, I need to be interesting in, and of, myself. I need to be lucid, topical, creative, insightful, jovial, and bang up-to-date. Or at least one of the above. Unfortunately, these days I am just been desperately trying to make sense of this thing they call London... and get my head round 'settling down' here. It's an endlessly fascinating situation for me, I just need to translate that, without being a bore, into blogging. I try - but the blogger's quandries remain. Should I bitch/complain/rant about people/things/places? How much of my personal life should I reveal? Am I actually trying to reveal myself, or a fabricated image of myself? Who the hell am I anyway? Come to think of it - these questions don't belong solely to the blogging arena, but to life in general, just that the blog is a new medium, with a new audience - hmm. Hey - do you reckon the people on Big Brother ask themselves these questions? Ha!

News

2005-07-26T17:17:00.000+01:00

News has never had much effect on me before, but the 'culture shock' I've been expecting from living in London has definately hit now: the realisation that the news does directly affect me, and the city I have chosen to call home. No more feeling I am miles away from civilisation, and can somehow avoid reality. I'd just last week gotten over the weird, panicky feeling I'd been experiencing due to having to ride the deep tube lines whilst the Circle line is closed... every morning finding myself plunging down into the bowels of the earth to squash myself onto a hurtling metal carriage filled with sweaty commuters reading newspapers chock full of images of terror... Yikes. Anyways, I'd just gotten over that when there was news of a second bombing attempt, and then, over the weekend, the news that the police had shot an innocent Brazilian electrician. The speculation that the man could have run from the police as his visa may have expired made me weep. Now it's getting personal. After all, my beloved hubby is a South American immigrant, hoping to train as an electrician, a man who spent 11 years running from police in Japan because of his illegal status. He recognised that it was his choice to remain illegally in the country, and thus have to run from police (or sweet-talk them, but that was back in the day). Yet, as photos of Jean Charles de Menezes' 'aged and humble' family are shown in the newspapers I get a wash of nostalgia for my in-laws in Peru, and realise that for men and women supporting those back home there really isn't a choice. How the hell can we even begin to address the imbalances and injustice in the world that is the root of all of these problems we are now facing?

Drum-based weekend

2005-07-18T16:45:00.000+01:00

Had a rather nice weekend... went to the Dogstar in Brixton and enjoyed various types of music (hip-hop, funk, drum n' bass, etc.) all faithfully accompanied by over-enthusiastic bongo players! There's a great atmosphere in there, we noticed as soon as we walked in that everyone was dancing and had a smile on their face. Further on the theme, last night we went to a taiko drum concert on the Southbank. A friend I know from Japan, Michael Henry, was playing taiko, and he also featured heavily on the flute, both Japanese and Irish. It was brilliant, very professional, and really made me nostalgic for the humid, heavy, cicada-laden evenings back in Japan when we would go to festivals and eat takoyaki... ahhh. It's good to be getting out and enjoying things. It's just the choice of what to do in London is more than a bit overwhelming, especially after having lived in the countrified, rice-paddy filled Tochigi, and the beachified, chilled-out Chiclayo for most of the past 5 years!

Evolution

2005-07-15T14:58:00.000+01:00

It's Friday, and I'm totally and utterly exhausted. This morning when I woke up my eyes made that painful sound (do you know what I mean by this?) in my ears, that they tend to make when they don't want to open. It's not surprising though, seeing as in the past couple weeks I have doubled my teaching hours, been considerably diverted on the way to work (due to the ongoing suspension of the Circle line), almost entirely cut out caffine, and worked out at the gym four times a week (an hour each time). I feel good though, I feel much more in control of my life. And I'm on a magazine diet for the first time ever in my life... well, I don't like to think of it so much as a diet, but rather as the way I should mostly eat for the remainder of my existence. When I saw the diet, I realised that it was only a hop skip and a jump from what I was already doing (fruit for breakfast, lots of veggies, reduced portions, and less dairy and meat), but with added sensible suggestions (avoid things made from white flour, creamy dressings, sugar, etc.). It's so nice to have the opportunity, finally, to evolve into the more the person I want to be without excuses/circumstances holding me back. I can't complain of the lack of gym facilities I faced in Japan, or the Glavis's gorgeous cooked lunches that I embraced in Peru! Life is short, I want to eat well, work hard, play plenty, and sleep soundly... zzz.

Normal Life

2005-07-11T15:14:00.000+01:00

It seems like London is returning to normal... well, all those who weren't too closely touched by tragedy last Thursday, I suppose. Thankfully, no-one I know personally was affected by the bombings, other than getting stuck in the city centre. Hmm, that's not strictly true, as I suppose we are all affected by these kinds of things, thinking just how quickly our whole life could change. Yet, we must put it into perspective, London still seems a safe place to be.

Starting tomorrow I'll be teaching a big group of Italian teens ("Y'know - all sunglasses and scarves" says my boss) on an intensive two week course, on top of my normal teaching. I've finally been given the course book, so am now off to sit in the sun and drink a beverage whilst I prepare my lesson plans. Ciao!

Panic On/Under the Streets of London

2005-07-07T12:27:00.000+01:00

Live 8, Gay Pride, G8, the Olympics and now bombs and explosions and terrorism... blimey, London certainly is an emotionally intense place to be. I caught a hair-raising newsflash just as I was heading out the door to work, and realised there would be no point in even attempting to get in to Notting Hill. Now I'm round at Katie's where we are glued to the news on telly, it's all very confused and nobody seems sure of quite what's happened. Just saw a 'visably shocked' Blair making a statement saying he's heading down to London - they'll be carrying on G8 talks without him. Bad news for Africa and the environment, then. Katie and I don't know what to do with ourselves, and our menfolk are safe but trapped, like millions of others, at their workplaces.

Ms. Villalobos

2005-07-02T11:54:00.000+01:00

I feel like I'm on the verge of giving up the Ms. - or rather, having the Ms. torn from my weary, still weakly grasping hands. I have begun to feel like some angst-ridden teenager, standing up for rights that nobody else gives a toss about, or can even fathom why I should care. It's 'Ms.' - not 'Mrs.' I cry in vain, each time I receive a bill, a letter, a card wrongly addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Villalobos (at this Tito chuckles into his sleeve, moving swiftly aside to avoid an elbow to the ribs). My credit and debit cards have even come through incorrectly, but I don't know if I have the energy to have them re-issued, again. No, I protest, ringing the gas company, the bank, the council... I am married, but I'm not a Mrs. - OK, if that's not too much for you to handle? People really, really don't get it. Why is it so difficult, in these modern times, to comprehend such a logical arguement? I thought long and hard about changing my name to my husband's, and about my decision to remain a Ms. nonetheless. What I object to is not the sharing of a name, it is the implications involved in having to, as a woman, make clear my marital status throughout my life. It smacks of ownership, and why the hell should I? Isn't it satisfyingly traditional enough that I've changed my name? I like his name better, I like having alliterative initials, I like avoiding poncey double-barreling. But I don't like having to repeat, again and again, that I am a Ms., as I was before my marriage. What if I were a Dr.? Would I have to give that up to be a Mrs. too?

Not Very Affable

2005-06-25T12:21:00.000+01:00

I'm so out of practice of being polite and friendly to people in an affable, British way. In Japan I quickly learned not to attempt casual conversation, but rather to smile and bow and say 'Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu' an awful lot (it means something almost like 'I'm glad that we get along, and will continue getting along, with good will on both sides, thank you very muchie'). In three years, I never met a single one of my neighbours in Tochigi-shi, except the one who called the police and got me kicked out of my first apartment for having five people round until 10pm on a Friday night. In Peru I, with difficulty, unlearned the habit of bowing. And unfortunately, the habit of smiling, for the most part. You don't want to go about looking like an open-hearted, gormless tourist and get mugged and nagged by beggars... instead, I took to stomping around Chiclayo around scowling, enraged by men's street piropos ('compliments'), wearing dark glasses and ignoring everyone. So sharing a tut with a fellow delayed passenger on the tube, making small talk with the bloke in the offy, or simply saying hello to the builders downstairs is proving a bit of a challenge for me. The neighbours in our new flat? I'm absolutely terrified of meeting them, and having to simper and introduce myself and tell them I live in No.7. In fact, last night Tito and I got in a row over who would go downstairs and into the garden and pick up the plant which blew off our window ledge during the storm yesterday afternoon. I lost, as it was mine, and thus found myself scurrying past the surprised resident of No.3 (who had just popped into the garden for a fag) muttering something about basil. I'm going to have to sort this out soon, if I ever want to have a BBQ!

Hunter-gatherer

2005-06-16T17:34:00.000+01:00

Things that Tito has randomly brought home from work:
A T.V. table on rollers
A trowel
Some industrial strength glass cleaner
Paper towels to use with the above
Plant pots
A perfectly good hard hat (for use at his next job)
Sticks of wood to hold up the tomato plants
Plastic strips to affix the plants to said sticks

All of which he found lying around, or stuffed in the bin, and all of which have been put to jolly good use. I just love the hunter-gatherer in him, or is it the salvaging Peruvian? Either way, it pleases me no end to put things to good use - things that would otherwise be in a land-fill site, and that we would have had to buy ourselves anyways. What a terribly wasteful society we have here in England today. I'm proud to have a hubby who wants to try to be part of the solution, in his little way...

Unintentional Souvenir

2005-06-11T14:13:00.000+01:00

I was amused to find, when cleaning my ears with a Q-tip this morning, some random lingering grains of sand... presumeably from our honeymoon on Pimentel beach. I don't have problems with waxy build-up, but nevertheless do indeed recall having had a proddle on several occasions since leaving Peru almost two months ago, yet these grains hadn't budged. To finally part with them seems somewhat symbolic, like I am getting Peru 'out of my system' - literally. Makes me feel a little sad. It's time to hit 'Tito's Cebicheria' in London Bridge for a Latino disco, methinks, to catch some nostalgic South American vibes.

Very Effective

2005-06-06T15:03:00.000+01:00

Spent the morning lying in bed reading 'The 7 Habits of Effective People' (yes, I am aware of the irony) and have now come to realise that I really must stop worrying about things that I have no control over. Basically, the author explains how we all have a big 'circle of concern' containing a smaller 'circle of influence' and that we need to recognise what belongs where. I know we've all heard this before in one form or another, but the challenging thing is actually doing it. So, I must be very strict and not allow myself to wallow in random niggling worries of whether my doggy Wanpi misses us too much, my vague yet overwhelming fear of having children, or even my abstract wondering about if I will ever have a house and a car and nice holidays and a proper career. No! I cannot indulge myself in the luxury of pointless preoccupation. What I need to do is work on things that I can indeed do something about. Fancy that! It's great to drop all those crappy regrets about things that happened the past, fears for the future of the world and just concentrate on me, myself, now, in the present... eating well starts today, do the exercise now, listen better immediately, make that phone call, plan that article, write that letter. Change is constant, embrace it and allow yourself to evolve. I haven't read a great deal of 'self-improvement' literature, but what I have read I've taken very seriously (ever since Alan Carr's magnificent book stopped me smoking three years ago), though I know it's quite easy to scorn such writing. But scorn away, people who are locked into negative/incorrect/harmful ways of behaviour and thinking always will do so... whilst I'm well on my way to becoming a Supreme Being. Or, at least, rather good.

I LOVE LONDON

2005-06-01T11:01:00.000+01:00

I just love London. Of course, I don't mean the touristy stuff, though that's absolutely great too. What I love is the ease of getting around, and the green leafy roads, and the crowded markets, and the constant multicultural atmosphere, and the funky/cozy pubs... I like the convienience and pleasant routine of daily life. Things like wandering to the shops, drinking Pimms in Katie and Al's garden, cooking various ethnic foods I've been craving for years, or looking out the window of the college at all the bustling people in Notting Hill. Even mundane things like hurrying around tube stations, making appointments, putting the kettle on, doing my washing, planning my finances, and running for a bus each hold a special charm for me. These are all things that I couldn't do in Peru. I suppose this rose-tinted view might wear off over time - I admit I was non too pleased to find the trains to Crystal Palace not running over the weekend, especially as I wended my weary way home on a beautiful Friday evening... And apart from 'transport rage' Londoners could be said to suffer with the weather, crowds, pollution and high prices... ya, ya, ya. That stuff is a pain, but Londoners are more than a little spoiled, aren't they? This is one of the best cities in the world. You can see, do, eat and be what you want. The opportunities are endless. I feel so appreciative of everything here, and I want everyone else to know how lucky they are to live in London, indeed in the United Kingdom.

Top 10 Things I Miss About Peru (in no particular order)

2005-05-23T15:35:00.000+01:00

1. My doggy Wanpi (she's had the op, by the way... this is one Peruvian mammal that WON'T be reproducing!)
2. Sun every single day without fail
3. Buying fresh crabs, 4 for 50 pence, from the men who go out fishing on caballitos (reed crafts used since Inca times) and making chankarito - crush the crabs... add limon and chilli pepper... oye, que rico!
4. Tito's beloved Celica
5. Drinking outside Cecelia's corner shop on any random weeknight until 7am (not sure if I do actually miss this one...)
6. Glavis's cooking, especially the massive vegetable soups and coconut jam
7. Salsa music everywhere
8. The beaches, Pimentel (Las Rocas) and Puerto Eten especially
9. A rather filling cebichito with a tortita de choclo (a fried corn fritter) for one sol - about 14 pence!
10. Modelo market for wonderful fresh fruit and cheap silver jewellery

Hasta Manana

2005-05-22T21:11:00.000+01:00

Thanks for your advice... it was much appreciated, as comments always are. (More, please!). I think though, for the time being, I am just going to carry on writing here, as if I were normal. I sure don't feel normal, having gotten married, gone on honeymoon, left my bizarre life and much loved in-laws in Peru, abandoned my dog, killed my monkey, moved to London, gotten a flat, received many smashing consumer durables from Katie and Al, started a job, and all sort of fabulous Japanese cooking ingredients (from the Japan Centre, Piccadilly, on Saturday!), all in the past two months. I feel very strange indeed, even though I am essentially loving it here, I feel like I'm just not 'with it'. Y'getme? I hate all my unfashionable clothes and just can't quite figure out the trains, I am sooo broke, and sometimes I basically feel like I'm on another planet right here in London. I can, however, make time for my blog this week... it's exam time at the college, and so no classes. Argh! That means no money... but I've just been approved for an 'eggcard' and thus feel flush. Lots of distracting Katie, seriously sorting out my filofax, cooking tasty Japanese meals for hardworking hubby, and most importantly, lots of BLOG in store for next week! Until tomorrow...

Update... and a plea for advice!

2005-05-19T16:15:00.000+01:00

You might have noticed my postings have been a bit sparse of late. It's been a bit manic. Tito started work today, he's on a building site (probably getting soaked in the rain! bless'im!) which is a start... he's such a hard worker, I know he'll do really well. He's chuffed to get working again. I started teaching yesterday, it was truly lovely... and a far cry from disciplining 25 restive 13 year olds in the heat of a Chiclayo summer! The students at David Game College seem mature and focussed, the classes are small, and the classrooms well-equipped. I'll be teaching 'IELTS' courses, which prepare the students for the 'IELTS' English Proficiency exam which they have to take in order to qualify to apply to a British university. So, the teaching could be a little dry - but I will be more than pleased not to be playing riotous race-to-the-board games, ballistic Bingo, pandemonium pictionary, etc. at least for some time... and at a wage eight times higher than I was receiving at ICPNA. I still have to get a summer job though; there are multitudinous summer courses running - although this kind of teaching will indeed babysitting spotty teens - argh. Only two months of it, thank goodness.

Right, here's where we get interactive. Not only have I been too awfully busy and stressed and cultured-shocked to make regular blog entries, I've been a bit, well... directionless. My whole blog 'It's Peru, Baby' has been based on my strange, amazing, heart-breaking, heart-warming, etc. experiences of a country. Now I am living in Anerley, London, with the husband of my dreams, in a very pleasant flat, doing a very civilised job - not living with 10 of Tito's family members and a veritable zoo besides, being shocked by toilet facilties, poverty and machoism. I'm not getting drunk on the beach or outside Cecelia's corner shop, I'm getting drunk in Brixton or Soho. I don't have anything explosively wrong with my stomach, haven't seen a traditional peasant in ages, and I don't even have a dog to talk about, let alone a monkey (Wanpi, I miss you like crazy). So, where should I go with this? Should I start a new blog? Should I carry on as if I were normal? Should I stop? (ha - just kidding!).

This blog was my major means of communication and life-saving English expression whilst in Peru. It means a lot to me. But I'm just not quite sure what to do with it. Sometimes I think about writing a book about 'My South American Family'. I'm sure I could find enough to say, and it would certainly be gripping reading if I could bring myself to be more grittily honest than I have been on this site. That's all just pie in the sky for now though, I need some security and this nice little teaching job will offer that. Writing and journalistic endeavors will likely be limited to blogging for some time to come... so what should I DO with this, guys? I need comments, suggestions, ideas... please throw me a bone.

London Life Starts

2005-05-10T19:48:00.000+01:00

There's many extrordinarily good reasons why I haven't made an entry in far, far too long... honestly. In the past 6 days we have found, and now moved into, a really bright, lovely one-bed Victorian conversion flat in Anerley (next to Crystal Palace and just down the road from Katie and Al's) AND I have gotten a fabtastic job teaching English to pre-university foreign students at David Gate College in Notting Hill (many thanks to Em for landing me a real corker of a job!)... it's been all go, basically. We've been trying to figure the trains/tubes/buses, where to find South American types who might like to give Tito a job, what the heck I should do for a summer job (the college is closed for July and August), how to read the meters, how to get along with Katie and Al's Devon Rex curly cat Milo, and which precise types of curry/pizza/cheese we best enjoy. It's all new and exciting, and the emotional rollercoaster we've experienced for so long seems destined to continue even over here. It's spring, the leaves are well sprouted and the birds are chirping, the air smells fresh and green and we have lots of wonderful mates to meet up with. Yet, we don't know quite how we'll pay the second month's rent of our nice little flat, nor where the post office is, or how to join the library. Slowly but surely, we'll get sorted. We are loving London, and so chuffed with all we can see, do and acheive here. It's just super to be back!

Yorkshire Update - I'm Not Dead!

2005-04-27T15:05:00.000+01:00

It's amazing, we've had sunny weather almost everyday since we arrived back in the UK! Spring is lovely here. Been seeing old friends, and eating far too much cheese, and going for country walks; very nice indeed. We went to Haworth to the Bronte Parsonage with my mum yesterday, which was interesting, though it was throwing it down by the end of the day. The lady in the old apothacary asked Tito if he was Mexican (to which he replied "Odelay! Odelay! Arriba! Arriba! - just joking) and said she'd been to Peru. A man further down the main street on a ladder overheard us talking about Machu Picchu and said the lady from the fair trade shop has just returned from there. Ooo, it's a small world, innit. Tito thinks Yorkshire is very scenic, and the pubs rather cozy, but thankfully says he definitely prefers to live in London. He's really keen on learning about British customs in general, though he's not overly impressed with the Tetley's ("Um, Vanessa, this is warm!" he whispered alarmedly). Everyone up here says "Oh, you can't live in London - it's much too expensive!". That London is one of the most expensive cities in the world I do not doubt, but I always think - well, all the people who live in London live in London, so why the heck can't I?

Grim Up North

2005-04-23T01:25:00.000+01:00

Nah... I think it'll be lovely. As my uni friend Bridge used to say: "Sophistication? Don't talk to me about sophistication. I've been to Leeds." We're off for a week, to visit my parents near Skipton in Yorkshire, and properly relax. We have been relaxing and panicking on and off in equal measures since we arrived in London, but Yorkshire will be a chance to totally unwind, because, erm... we'll have no choice. London has , frankly, been just great. We have had plenty of sunny weather, and the air round here smells green like spring. We really like the Crystal Palace area where we plan to live, and Tito was suitably impressed today by some of central London (and especially by the double-decker open-air tourist buses - Austin Powers flashback?). But we're not on holiday really - we know we really, really need to get on with things - despite the jet lag and flashes of culture shock. Small achievements feel like big ones (today we finally got our mobiles sorted and looked at a flat down the road) but we certainly have a long way to go. However, we shall for now rejoice in watching lambs gamble, glug Tetleys in little country pubs, take long bracing walks over the moors, and eat lashings of fishn'chips and good Keighley curry!

L0NDON, BABY, YEAH

2005-04-21T12:37:00.000+01:00

We're finally here, staying at Katie and Al's gorgeous flat in Crystal Palace. Had a nice, relaxing day yesterday, and Tito's first ever roast dinner - complete with Yorkshire Puds! It's a bit hair raising to know that we've now got find satisfying jobs and a suitable flat, but we've lots of lovely friends to help us. We just cannot wait to catch up with everyone. Tito's really impressed with what he's seen of London so far, which isn't much - only the route from Heathrow to Crystal Palace ("It's so big, I'm scared!" said he, bless 'im), and a walk round the neighbourhood here (inc. the 'prehistoric monsters' display and v.nice CP park gym) yesterday. He was less impressed with the admittance procedures at Heathrow ("Get in there for an abdominal x-ray. mate."), but we're not bitter. It's a super time of year to return to the U.K. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping, and I do believe language schools might be hiring right about now. I'm thinking reflectively and nostalgically about our time in Peru, but need to update my C.V. before I start waxing lyrical. Tito's experiences as a new immigrant should also prove interesting, especially at time like this when immigration is on everybody's mind. I have absolutely no idea who I would vote for, by the way, so perhaps it's best that I don't have a polling card. Anyhooo, our new life awaits, baby!

Machu Picchu and Back to Reality

2005-04-17T22:33:00.000+01:00

Wowee! Machu Picchu was by far the most amazing thing I've ever seen - the scenery is just breathtaking. We only had one day to spend there, but I have no doubts we'll return. You know the typical postcard scene of Machu Picchu with the mountain? Well, we climbed that mountain (Wayna Picchu) yesterday - so I must be feeling better. The views from the top was fantastic. I can't really say much else about Machu Picchu as words can't express! But now we're back to reality, staying the night in Lima before flying to London tomorrow...

Honeymoon Proper! Part 3 - Cuzco

2005-04-16T02:01:00.000+01:00

Cuzco is amazing. After tour of Sacsayhuaman and various other Inka ruins, the Cathedral and the city centre yesterday and a 'Sacred Valley' (Pisaq, Urubamba, Ollantaytambo and Chinchero) tour today I'm knackered, but happy. The city centre is historic and charming, the Inka ruins are incredibly mysterious, and the mountainous countryside is literally the most breathtaking I've ever seen. This is picture postcard Peru at it's best - llamas hanging around everywhere with their traditionally attired owners, little villages full of charmingly rustic mud-brick dwellings, icey mountain tops, winding cobbled city streets lined with white-washed houses, Inca fields stretching up the hillsides... you get it. It ain't cheap to get to, it ain't easy to get to, but you've got to get here. The food's great, the hotels are very cheap, and there's loads of nice new bars and pubs. And the shopping - I can't even talk about it, as I simply don't have any space in my suitcase for an alpaca sweater, nor a Baroque-style framed oil painting of the Cuzco school, nor striking black and white pottery pieces, nada. It's painful, but I know that we'll come back, preferably when we actually have jobs, and a place to live! Anyways, it's Machu Picchu tomorrow, very exciting!

Honeymoon Proper! Part 2 - Puno

2005-04-14T00:45:00.000+01:00

Took the 9am bus from Arequipa to Puno, as I was feeling fit as a butcher's dog this morning. The scenery was lovely, in fact I was surprised to find it rather reminiscent of the Yorkshire Dales in parts (only more jagged, with occasional snow-capped mountains, and alpacas/llamas instead of sheep!). In other parts it was a bit like the Lake District, though with considerably less traffic and vacationing Americans! It was a very pleasant bus journey, and when we arrived behind schedule at 2:30pm we were extremely chuffed to find that we weren't too late for a jaunt to the Uros Islands on Lake Titicaca. After a quick lunch of alpaca steak and mashed potatoes (truly delicious, and no apparent danger of hospitalisation), we boarded a boat to the spongy reed Uros Islands with a bunch of assorted uncombed European tourists with 'interesting' glasses. It was really worth the trip, the islands float above 20 metres of water and the inhabitants do seem to maintain some kind of traditional lifestyle, despite the constant influx of goggling tourists. They make crafts to sell to the tourists, and live, work, and cook on the islands. The reeds the islands are made of are edible actually, so we noshed a crunchy reed and took various photos of the brown-skinned and ruddy-cheeked islanders in their colourful clothes, and us posing in foolish positions that we'll be proud to show our grandchildren. Towards the end it started to hail, and the boat ride back was freezing. Now we're back in Puno, waiting with cold feet for our bus to Cuzco... we've no time to stay the night due to our delay in Arequipa, Machu Picchu calls!

Jumbo Shrimps, Hospitalisation, and Elephant Skin

2005-04-12T22:27:00.000+01:00

Life is really very peculiar sometimes, isn't it? Yesterday I experienced a strange set of coincidences that again lead me to think that surely fate plays a major, even lifesaving, role in life. As I mentioned, we had jumbo shrimps for lunch. Tito was determined to have them - we took a taxi to a recommended seafood restaurant - but when we found they didn't have 'camarones' we hopped right back in a taxi to look for somewhere that did. Tito ended up with a great plate of barbecued shrimps, while I had the fried mixed seafood, and very tasty it all was too. We then proceeded to the bus station, where we expected to board the 5:30pm bus to Puno. It turned out, however, that the ticket had been for the 5:30am bus instead. Tito managed to get a full refund by being mightily peed off, and so we went and booked another ticket, this time for 8:30pm. Having three hours to kill, we checked our luggage in at the bus counter and came back into central Arequipa to use the internet. I made an entry and then went to buy a digest-aid tablet, as lunch hadn't gone down quite as well as I'd hoped. As I walked along the street looking for a chemist's, I had a very sudden feeling that I was having an asthma attack. I bought my digestion pill and took that, and then bought a brand new ventolin inhalor, as my old one didn't seem to be having any effect. As I walked back to meet Tito at 8pm to catch the bus I started coughing uncontrollably, and when he saw me approaching he knew something was wrong as my lips were dark purple. I thought that the attack would pass, but it didn't, and I couldn't get any oxygen in the thin Arequipan air. So, we took a taxi to the nearest hospital, which seemed to take forever in the evening traffic, with me gasping for air, and poor Tito virtually pulling his hair out with worry. The doctor immediately put me on gas, and then an oxygen machine. He indicated that he thought it was food poisoning, which attacked my weakest area (ie. bronchial tubes) and this was further aggravated by my reaction to the altitude. I though this was absolute madness, as I've had quite bad food poisoning before, but it was simply the usual nausea and diaorrhea. Oh no, not PERUVIAN food poisoning, baby! We obviously weren't going to be travelling to Puno, so Tito rushed out to the bus station to collect our luggage as soon as I could breathe. As I waited, I developed an unbelievably itchy sensation on my scalp and upper thighs. The doctor gave me a cortisone injection, and I was so relieved that I wasn't going to die that I didn't think much of the itching. Tito returned (baggage-less, as the counter had closed for the day) and we returned to the hotel we'd checked out of earlier. As soon as we entered the lobby, I went to the toilet and was alarmed to see that my upper thighs were covered in enormous, swollen, red welts, which were so thick in areas that there was no normal skin in between them. Off we went to the chemist, were I was given an emergency injection, pill, and cream. We went back to hotel feeling relieved. Unfortunately, the rash had yet to really get going... It spread all over my body, exploding in sudden red welts, travelling up my back and stomach, and right down to my toes. It was HORRENDOUS! I looked like the elephant woman, and Tito even shouted at me for looking in the full-length mirror, as it made me panic. It was a night of cold wet towels and mate de coca tea, and Tito was just WONDERFUL as my nurse. Eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke at 1pm today my skin was fine. My breathing is fine, too. I now have come to believe that the same swelling effect as on my skin must have also affected my throat and bronchial tubes, closing them up. Yikes! What I can't stop thinking about, though, is the serious of coincidences... if Tito hadn't wanted shrimps so much, I'd have been fine, presumeably. Yet, if we hadn't had incorrect bus tickets, we'd have been on the bus when I had the attack. The bus wouldn't have had oxygen on board, as it was a cheap company. Furthermore, we'd have been approaching Puno, which is one of the highest points in Peru, at 3500m above sea level, which would have really complicated my breathing... It could have been very dangerous indeed. I am oddly pleased, however, that it wasn't a straightforward asthma attack, or simply the effects of the altitude, because both would mean that I couldn't travel to Puno, or perhaps even Cuzco. However, it seems it was a bizarre combination of effects that I'm sure I couldn't replicate if I tried. I feel absolutely fine now, so we're off to Puno to see Lake Titicaca in the morning tomorrow. Fingers crossed!

Arequipa Day 2

2005-04-12T00:25:00.000+01:00

Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on the effects of the altitude (2325m above sea level, I believe) which knocked me out for the best part of the day yesterday! I managed to lose the keys to our luggage in my woozy state, too... (I think the hotel was a bit suspicious of us when we asked for some pliers to break the locks!) But I felt fine after a sleep, an anti-nausea/dizziness pill and vast quantities of mate de coca (special coca leaf tea) however 'soroche' had claimed the daylight hours. So, we had a relaxing evening and were up early today. We explored the Santa Catalina Monastery, which is actually an ancient nunnery, and is vastly intriguing. The high altitude gives the sunlight here a real luminous quality, and this enhances the beauty of Santa Catalina no end, as all the walls are built from the volcanic rock 'sillar' and painted gorgeous bright blues and terracottas and yellows. There are flowers everywhere, and multitudinous nooks and crannies to poke your nose into. It's like a little city within a city, and you can't help thinking the nuns led an eviable life - what with their private quarters, servants, special guests and secret parties. I wanted to go mad taking pictures, but we don't have a proper camera now, so I'll wait 'til the next time we visit Peru! After the nunnery we went to the museum to try to see Juanita. She is the sacrificed Inca girl stumbled across quite by accident by a mountaineer. She was frozen in perfect form, and was only unearthed due to the hot ashes falling from an active volcano next door. The mountaineer was trying to take photos of the volcano when he noticed a foot sticking out! He lugged the corpse down the mountain and presented to a university in Arequipa, who were rather pleased to say the least. Juanita's discovery led to the discovery of several other very well preserved, young female sacrifices... another of whom, Sarita, is currently on display in a rather chilly ice box. Good job, too, as Juanita is off being researched so we didn't actually get to see her. Anyhow, a Cathedral and few churches and some jumbo shrimp for lunch/supper (why isn't there a word for that? sunch? lupper?) and we're now off to Puno and Lake Titicaca...

Honeymoon Proper! Part 1 - Arequipa

2005-04-10T16:27:00.000+01:00

Triumphant with Tito's UK visa and our two tickets to London in hand, we're off on honeymoon proper! In fact, we've started already, we arrived in Arequipa just an hour ago, after a 14 hour overnight bus journey. Arequipa looks lovely, it's an old city and many of the buildings are constructed from an attractive white stone - volcanic ash from El Misti - the impressive snow-capped mountain which overlooks the city. This feels like the 'real Peru' to me - the picture postcard ideal (which roughn'ready Chiclayo certainly is not!). In the bus station when we arrived there was a woman wearing the traditional embroidered skirts and felt hat, when we got out of taxi in central Arequipa there were two kids with a fluffy baby llama, etc, etc. We are looking forward to exploring here, then Puno (Lake Titicaca) , and then Cuzco and Machu Picchu. We're doing it budget stylee - all buses and backpacks; we like the independence. Packages are ridiculously overpriced anyway - they claim to be for three days or whatever, but your last day involves nothing but a rushed brekky and being whisked to the airport. The bus travel is really not too bad either - you can take the 'bus-cama' option (bed-bus) which is quite comfortable and eliminates the need to pay for a hotel for the night! OK, I'd better go and start exploration of the city, and we're just dying to lunch on the famous jumbo shrimp!

Visa Tomorrow!

2005-04-08T02:51:00.000+01:00

You're not going to believe this... on Tuesday, just after I made my blog entry, Tito came rushing into the internet cafe and announced that the Municipalidad finally had THE BOOK! Well, we ran over there and put on long faces and made forlorn noises until we were allowed to sign the thing and finally receive our marriage certificate. Then we packed up at Katuwira, said final goodbyes, and jumped on the overnight bus to Lima. Wednesday morning we arrived in Lima, showered, (Tito donned his lucky shirt), and off we went, directly to the British Embassy with papers in hand - only to be told that they have decided not to process visa applications on Wednesdays. So, this morning also found us waving papers at the Embassy at 8am - only to be told to come back in on Monday at 12pm for our interview. We sat in the Embassy staring disappointedly at the interview slip and debating whether or not to tell the staff my grandfather had died and I need to back ASAP (both true - though my grandfather passed away many years ago, bless'im). Suddenly, the Vice-Consul called me over. She'd seen our miserable chops and said she'd interview us today. Although somewhat amused and taken aback at the various complications of our multi-continental relationship, she gave us the green light. We pick up Tito's visa tomorrow!!!

More Flatulations

2005-04-05T17:18:00.000+01:00

Speaking of bottom eruptions, as I unfortunately was... Tito said to me this morning "Because of the beans we ate yesterday, today I have many gases." To which I replied "No, we say 'a lot of gas', because 'gas' is uncountable". "No baby" he said, "It's countable - I've counted 17 so far this morning."

As you might guess, we are still waiting for the gringo marriage register book to come up from Lima. Apparently there is only one book, which does the rounds of the whole country - it could be in Iquitos or Arequipa or Cajamarca as we speak. We're totally stuck; they won't issue our marriage certificate until the book comes, even though we were married over two weeks ago. This level of inefficiency seems laughable - why a book? do they not have computers in this country? where is this blessed book now? It seems laughable, but it's not so funny when you are stuck in the system. And this is what normal Peruvians have to live with everyday! British nationality has never before seemed so appealing to me as now. Anyway, Tito is presently in the Municipalidad with a lawyer trying to make a ruckus... I'll let you know how it goes!

True Sign of an Adventurer

2005-04-01T00:37:00.000+01:00

In Peru, the toilets are generally missing at least two or three, but often all of these things:
1. flushing mechanism/handle
2.toilet seat
3.running water (soap? no chance)
4.toilet paper
5.door/ceiling/walls
6.electricity/window (ie.light)
Sure, I know all about roughing it, thanks very much. But the almost total lack of basic facities combined with the serious exploding arse syndrome (SEAS) caused by cebiche (the national dish), and countless other foodstuffs can be bit tough to handle at times. Well... in short, it means that sometimes my hand smells like poo. I mentioned this, in passing, to my husband yesterday. He pondered for a moment, and then replied "This is the true sign of an adventurer." We could make a proverb here, surely? Something along the lines of 'One whose hand smells of poo has many tales to tell'? Or, 'Never judge a person until you've smelled their hand'.

Man, I hope the book comes soon.

Things That Make Me Go 'Hmm'

2005-03-28T18:49:00.000+01:00

There are big plastic cylinders, filled with seawater to flush down the loos, in Katuwira's toilets. I have noticed that when it's dark out and you diddle around in this seawater, thousands of little things start to brightly glow throughout the water, wherever there is motion. What this trick is due to, I'm not precisely sure, though I've often seen the same phosphorent particles wash up where the waves break when walking down beaches at night. This pretty little phenomenon of nature makes me ponder on how the ocean is absolutely teeming with life and light... it makes my life and all my little problems appear totally insignificant. I like that. Erm, it seems all these colourful sunsets, campfires, and the lack of electricity are rapidly turning me into a hippie while I wait for the sodding gringo marriage book to come up from Lima. No luck yet, by the way.

(Mostly) Honeymooning

2005-03-26T22:25:00.000Z

We're still at Katuwira, relaxing on the beach, and enjoying the excellent cooking of Señora Techi. We had, however, really hoped to be on our way before now, but as usual bureaucracy has slowed us down. Apparently there is a special book we must sign 7-10 days after the wedding, seeing as I'm a foreigner. Of course nobody told us this before the wedding, and we have to wait until it arrives from Lima. A week has flown by since our wedding already, but the book thing has been considerably delayed by the fact that this week is 'Santa Semana' - Thursday and Friday were national holidays. So, we haven't been able to leave Chiclayo, which has been a bit strange for our honeymoon. I mean, even though we haven't been staying in my father-in-law's house, we've still not been able to enjoy the kind of privacy honeymooning couples generally enjoy - friends just keep popping by... that's all very nice, but not when they simply wish my husband and I to get drunk with them all evening and then let them crash on our sofa!!!

Señora Villalobos Reports...

2005-03-23T20:51:00.000Z

The wedding was fantastico! Tito looked devastatingly handsome in his white suit, the man of my dreams. I felt fabulous in my violet/blue iridescent dress, with lots of curls and little pink roses, and a bouquet with masses of lilies. Lots of photos all round town in the much beloved and sexy Celica (we drew quite a crowd - "Look at the models!" they said - ha!), then onto Katuwira for the reception party. Think candles, sand, stars, palm leaves, fairy lights, flowers, snogging, champers... and of course good friends and family! It was just gorgeous. We reckoned the best way to keep it small was to make people pay for their plates (a decision we made after being robbed of our wedding savings), and so there were about 35-40 people in all. We had a local group play rock for the first couple hours (Dire Straits, Clapton, Police, Mana), then straight into a salsa DJ to get everyone dancing. After emotion packed speeches by myself (in Spanish, no less!) and Tito, a dramatic garter-removing-with-teeth spectacle (yes, ladies, my husbands' stripper days are indeed over, I'm afraid), and a good old cheers/salud/kampai/chinchin by Tito's dad, it was dancing all night... we were so happy. We were still up at about 11am the next day, and still having a wonderful time! But, perhaps just to show us that all happiness in life is tinged with sadness, a tragic thing occured. We went to rest, and as the room was stifling hot, I opened the window for a breeze. When we woke up an hour later, little Julito the monkey was dead, still clinging to Tito's arm. He had been totally normal all night, munching mango and pineapple... but he did have a little cold, and so we can only conclude he got a chill. We were totally horrified. After several weeks of changing his little nappy and giving him milk from a syringe, it was heartbreaking. Everyone said he might pass away when we left, as he was so tiny and so attached to us, but we had no idea it would come even sooner. We've come to terms with it now, and just feel thankful that we had such a beautiful wedding with our little monkey guest. As Tito (my husband!) and I move into our new life together, we'll always remember all the super people who joined us to celebrate our wedding. We couldn't have had a better night, thanks to them, and we have endless optimism for a bright, united future.

WOOHOO!!!

2005-03-19T01:59:00.000Z

I'm getting married tomorrow! Wish me luck!

Livid

2005-03-18T03:29:00.000Z

It's difficult to put into words what an insanely challenging time this is. Peru has been tough to deal with at the best of times (the best of times here always tend to involve staying up all night drinking warm beer on windy street corners with old men, or something of the ilk) so trying to simultaneously plan a wedding and pack up to move country is causing my head to explode. Especially with experiences like tonight... Tito and I had been to pick up the guestbook and the little 'recuerdos' (ceramic momentos which guests pin to their lapels) that I'd had specially handmade, and were feeling very pleased with ourselves, as those were the last things on our list to do. We had a fantastic celebratory dinner of chicharrones (fried pork) with yucas and then went to the bank for the money to pay for the rock band we're having at the reception. Unfortunately (you can probably guess what happens next) Tito put the bag down with the guestbook and recuerdos during the transaction and forgot to pick it up again. Of course, when we went back in about three minutes later it had been stolen. People are just horrible, aren't they? What on earth could you do with those things, all of which had our names and wedding date emblazoned all over? They will just have thrown them in the bin when they saw what they are, stupid idiots. I feel absolutely livid.

Argh!

2005-03-17T02:58:00.000Z

It's Wednesday already!! I can't believe I'm getting married in just two days. We're on an emotional rollercoaster, having had to totally organise the wedding in about 10 days. I think we're almost finished organising the wedding (completed today: photographer and videographer, band and DJ, crate of champers, Tito's ring, make-up, great cebiche for lunch), but we've also got to completely pack up in the next two days... quite a challenge. Unfortunately, it's a pain for a Peruvian to get a transit visa to fly through the States, so we have to fly through Europe with a measly 20kg baggage allowance. I came here with 80kg! Of course, all my MDs and CDs have been stolen which somewhat reduces the weight; other than that I seem to have gained, rather than shed, things in the past year. The nice thing, though, is knowing that clothes and things left here will really be used and appreciated. And whilst my 5 year old jeans are more than sufficient for use in Chiclayo, I hardly think I would feel quite so cool sporting them in London... so I guess it's time for me to shed some clobber in a serious way!

Wedding Arrangements

2005-03-15T00:12:00.000Z

The problem with arranging a wedding is filtering what you do need from what you really, really don't need from all the advice you get from relatives, friends, salespeople and advertisements. We want to have a small inexpensive, simple, but very pretty do - all thoughts of anything else went out the window when we were robbed of the money we'd been saving. I knew, however, there would be a lot less pressure to get all caught up in napkin rings and string quartets in Peru... which another reason why we decided to get married here. There is just so much less to buy in this third world economy, and less to choose from. The main pressure here is to have a big, white Catholic wedding, which is our idea of a nightmare, so with that out of the question it's not been too bad. But it's amazing what you need when you get started, things that you have never thought about before. I never knew I'd need to decide how many tiers the cake would be, the pros and cons of 'elastic chantilly' icing, what font I'd use on the invites, which fillings I'd have in the little nibbles, the brand of champagne and type of cups, or make arrangements for purple and white lilies, irises and pink roses to be liberally applied to every surface, check photographers and DJs, or sample all the cocktails served and gorge (in the name of research) on the five main meals at the place where we're having the reception... It's all great fun, but easy to get ridiculously caught up in! No, I do not want someone to do my make-up, I don't want to be filmed every moment and I don't want to dance to countless renditions of the Blue Danube (a Peruvian tradition). We are getting married in the romantic old colonial-style city hall, which is naturally photogenic in a charmingly South American way, and having the small (40-50 person) reception in a rustic little place on Las Rocas beach (www.katuwira.com - click on the satelite thing for lots of pics of the site itself) which I also thought would minimise preparation, but I don't think it has!

Lucky Shirt

2005-03-11T23:28:00.000Z

It's all been going astonishingly well of late, I must say. We finally have a wedding date (March 19th at 6:30pm, to be precise) and I think it might all be down to one thing - a lucky shirt. Tito had been looking for his red shirt for ages before we went to Lima, he kept asking his mum - who insists on doing all our laundry, bless 'er - if she'd seen it. She protested she'd never seen it, but yet it was mysteriously produced, spotlessly clean and beautifully ironed, just in time for our trip to Lima. Tito's mum advised him to wear it when we went to the Embassy and Consulate, which he accordingly did. The verifications all went perfectly. Upon returning to Chiclayo Tito also wore it to the Municipalidad when we went in (albeit with some rather influential types of friends in tow) to talk to the obstinate ass who thought our British Embassy issued certificate was unacceptable. Everything went just swimmingly... and now Tito's convinced that his mum took the red shirt to the bruja blanca (white witch) for a negativity dispelling ceremony. It worked a treat - I must have her do it again before we go in to apply for Tito's UK visa!

Monkey Madness

2005-03-10T23:23:00.000Z

Took Julio the monkey to the cinema last night, since he can't be left alone. He slept peacefully through the trailers, but 10 minutes into the film he woke up and started making a great squeaking, squalking racket. Being new to monkey fostering duties, we'd forgotten his milk and banana in the car, unfortunately. As the audience became gripped by the the dramatic tension in the 'The Eye' (rather scary, suspense filled Chinese thriller) Julito let out shrieks and jumped from Tito's arm to mine and back. I sank further and further into my seat as people turned to look. Suddenly, at a particularly scary bit, as the audience sat on the edges of their chairs, the señora beside me let out a blood-curdling scream. I turned to find Julio wrapped around her arm, and blinking up surprisedly with big liquid black eyes. "Disculpe, Señora, el es mi monito!" I apologised (Excuse me, ma'am, he's my little monkey!), disengaging the trespassing mammal from her limb. I turned several shades of pink and purple and we dissolved into helpless, hysterical laughter. I wanted to leave, but Tito insisted we stay - after all, it's Peru, baby. These things happen.

As Recommended in Marie Claire

2005-03-07T18:54:00.000Z

'It's Peru, Baby' has been reviewed, and recommended, in this month's UK edition Marie Claire. Many thanks to Katie. I've been writing this blog about Peru for the rollercoaster ride of a year that I've been here - a year in which I've learned Spanish, become part of a huge extended South American family, eaten guinea pig and rabbit and boatloads of tasty sea creatures, spent my time roasting on the rugged northern beaches of Peru and teaching English to unruly adolescents, had nine weeks of explosive arse due to a parasitical infection, been robbed of almost everything, raised a puppy and fostered a monkey, and fallen more in love with my fiancé, and this crazy, impoverished, culture-rich country, than I ever thought possible. Stay tuned to see if Tito and I ever manage to finally get wed, visit Cuzco and Machu Picchu on honeymoon, get Tito a visa for the UK and make it out of Peru... alive and with (some of) our sanity and possessions!

Mentalists

2005-03-07T18:14:00.000Z

Tito and I just went to the bank and I noticed with alarm that he hadn't signed his cash card for his new account. I whipped out a ball pen so he could sign it right away. "Oh no", he protested, "in Peru no-one signs their bank cards". A Peruvian friend, Cecelia, who was with us, agreed. I was absolutely gobsmacked - for the love of Dios - why??? "So that if someone steals your card they don't know your signature" they informed me. "Um, but that person could sign it themselves and use that fake signature instead, surely?" I protested. The two could not be swayed, however. Peruvians are completely mental. I get more sense out of the monkey, you know.

Monkey's Mummy

2005-03-06T02:20:00.000Z

We've got a real, live baby monkey! It is a gorgeous two-month-old squirrel monkey from the Peruvian Amazon that needs foster parents until it is old enough to go to a zoo. His name is Julio (he came with that name!). He was apparently given as a present to a teenage girl, who is studying in university, by her aunt. However, the monkey acts very much like a human baby and requires absolutely loads of attention - the girl's mother thus ended up giving the monkey to a pet shop when she found her daughter was totally neglecting her studies. Tito's sister Perla is a veterinarian, and when she heard there was a baby monkey in need of a substitute mother she grabbed the opportunity for me - since I am happily unemployed at the moment! Ahh, Julio is extrodinarily cute ... he's just like a little person and has proper hands with nails, not claws. Squirrel monkeys cling to their mums from the moment they are born as a survival instinct - so it absolutely impossible to put him down for one minute. We even have to sleep with him attached to an arm, and he wakes several times in the night crying for milk and attention. This morning I awoke to him grabbing my lip and biting my nose - little monkey! For the past couple days Tito's been experimenting with nappy material - we've now found nappies fashioned from sanitary pads work best. Lovely. Julio's poop isn't too bad though - he only eats soft fruit like banana and papaya. Tito was in hysterics the first time I changed Julio and he peed, fountain-style, all over my arm - just like a human baby! Anyway, we'll be looking after Julio until we leave, at which time he will hopefully be mature enough to go to a zoo. It's a brilliant end to our time in Peru to have this experience looking after him... wish we could take him with us to London but it would be impossible.

Update

2005-03-03T01:36:00.000Z

We're back in Chiclayo after a horrendous 17 hour trip up from Lima last night (we stopped four times; twice as the electricity on the bus went out, once because some peasants outside Chimbote had piled rocks in the road in some sort of protest, and once inexplicably) - arriving a good 6 hours late! Blah. Got my documents sorted though - excellent - all we have to do now is book the wedding! And we got to see some different sides of Lima, which was quite exciting. We went to the Museo de la Nación and saw lots of v.old pottery (some rather racy!), intriguing stone carvings, and dried shrunken heads. Then, some Peruvian friends who we know from Japan came to pick us up, and wanted to show us Callao, the suburb where they live. Callao is the kind of place that is the real Lima for most of the population... it's a bit rough and ready. The friends fancied some non-prescription pharmaceuticals in the evening, and so we took a drive through the kind of area where the houses are just sheds made of wooden planks with gaps where the light shines through (at least they have electricity!), everyone is hanging out on the stinky mud street, and you can't tell if the women are all pregnant, or just fat. Just round the corner was a place we've seen on television documentaries - where transexual prositutes flash you as you drive by. Then we went to a salsa club in a rather more attractive neighbourhood, and had a beverage and hip wiggle - until 5am on a Monday night! Lima is anything but dull...

Verifications

2005-02-28T19:29:00.000Z

We're in Lima again ladies and gentlemen... this morning we got my birth certificate verified by the Canadian Embassy, and then that verification verified by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, now we are currently waiting for the certificate and verifications to be translated into Spanish and then verified again (sighhh - bureaucracy). In between all of the verifications we've been wandering around central Lima, and I must say it's very nice indeed. Ornate churches, crumbling but cheerfully bright colonial mansions, cute little musuems and art galleries - extremely pleasant. It's bloody hot, has horrendous stinking traffic, and is more than slightly dangerous for pickpockets - but I would like to verify that Lima's charm more than makes up for it's faults. I suppose I wouldn't like it so much if I was one of the inhabitants of it's many 'Nuevo Pueblos' (New Towns - ie. nasty slums) but hell, I'm a tourist, and feel the need to stick up for the much-slagged-off Lima. It rocks! Unfortunately, we only have a couple days until we go back to Chiclayo. We need to verify the wedding date! Wish us luck!

I Hate Babies

2005-02-23T17:14:00.000Z

I thought that coming to Peru would soften my views on babies and young children. I thought, being surrounded by the little ankle biters, I would find that really I actually adore them, or even somewhat enjoy being in near proximity to them. No such luck, I'm afraid - if anything I now loathe them more. It's very similiar to the beggar situation - in concept I feel great compassion and altruistic sensations towards them - but in practice when I've got one whinging and tugging on my arm, my hand just tingles to administer a much-deserved slap round the chops. I think it's the sheer volume of babies and young children over here that really get to me. Bored, unwanted, unplanned-for, snot-nosed, hungry little kids hang around town begging all day. Vacant-eyed pregnant women with a baby on the tit and a toddler on the lap implore you to donate cash for their plight. I'd gladly give them a handful of condoms, but they'd only sell them in the market. Basically, in Peru the Catholic population simply accepts children as inevitable products of sexual union, never something to plan for, but as something that just happens. Hello? This is how women lived for thousands of years when we had no choice. Peruvians ladies, take note, the pill is free from doctors and costs only 8 soles (just over a quid) in the pharmacy! Why do even normal, educated, middle-class women here still believe themselves to be baby machines? The children I know here, my little nieces and nephews, are very much loved, but seem to vary from badly disciplined to totally out-of-control. Why? Because no Peruvian couple ever sits down and says "Hey, let's plan for a baby. How do you think we should raise it? What are your beliefs? Do we have enough money? Let's research this." No, the woman suddenly cries "Shit! I'm pregnant! We have to get married now and live with my parents!" and the man agrees out of a sense of duty, and resents her for trapping him forever after.
But there are plentious other reasons why I hate babies:
1) They often look like fat little slugs and they get horrible spotty rashes
2) They have no sense of danger (ie. they will totally ignore when you tell them not to climb the stairs, but when the smash their face in when they fall down you'll have to bend over backwards to comfort them)
3) They scream random syllables at the top of their lungs for hours on end ("MAAAMAAAPAPAPIOOPIO")
4) They won't let you do ANYTHING in piece (ie. if you are reading they will drag the book out of your hand and chuck it on the floor repeatedly, and for no apparent reason)
5) Everyone assumes that I, as a woman, am crazy about babies and constantly thrust their little bundles of poopiness into my unwilling arms where I have to jostle them about and coo and hang them upside down to make them smile... when I'd really, really, truly rather not.
The burning question of the moment, since I'm getting married shortly is: And when will you be having babies? And the answer is when, and if, we are ever bloody ready to - and not one minute before that - so don't hold your breath!!!

Bus Travel on the Pan Am

2005-02-21T17:42:00.000Z

Occasionally I want to make a blog entry, but I hestitate as I know the contents will worry my mum. But then I remember that my mum uses the internet only once in a blue moon, and so I proceed. Here we go! I forgot to write about Tito's experiences his last trip to Lima on el cheapo buses... and rather hair raising they were too. Basically, there are some safe buses that go direct to Lima. They don't stop for anything as they whizz down the Pan American Highway. They cost about 70 soles (about 10 pounds) for the twelve hour journey. Then there are the others, which stop en route to pick up passengers who just stand by the side of the Pan Am. They are two to five pounds for a 16 hour ride (and worth every penny?). As the Pan Am highway, between cities, is situated between vast ocean and vast desert and shedloads of absolutely bugger all, it is rather dangerous to pick up any old person who flags down the bus - the buses are constantly targeted by thieves. Not surprisingly, when the nearest police station is often a few hundred kilos away. Anyway, on the way down to Lima, one of the passenger windows was shattered by a stone thrown with the intention of making the bus stop. Did the bus stop? Did it eckers like. It continued at full speed after half a dozen passengers had received a glass shower. They then spent the remaining seven cold, gusty hours picking shards off clothes and out of hair. Nice! Even more excitingly, on the way back, the bus encountered an unexpected traffic jam on the Pan Am, caused by robbers who had lit a massive fire in the middle of the road. They then duly robbed all cars and buses which had to stop there. Happily, Tito's bus escaped pillage, as the bus driver wouldn't let the thieves on and the passengers shut their windows with timely haste. After waiting over an hour the police came and the traffic could pass. Needless to say, we'll be taking the priceier bus down on Saturday... and hoping for the best!

Back to Lima

2005-02-18T18:02:00.000Z

In case you're wondering, we still haven't been able to book the wedding. We've got to make another journey to Lima - this time to have my birth certificate verified by the Canadian Embassy. That verification has then got to be verified (and the certificate translated) by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, so goodness knows how long that will take. However, I've handed my notice in at ICPNA (yippee!) and will be working there until next Friday. We'll go down to Lima over the weekend, to ensure we're first in the queue at the Embassy on Monday morning! I'm, again, seriously peeved by the British Embassy, who were all too pleased to issue my costly and time-consuming 'Certificate of No Impediment to Marriage', without being so good as to let me know that it would be a totally useless piece of paper until I'd also gotten my birth certificate verified. No government organisation will give you vital information unless you painstakingly drag it out of them, it seems. Guess it's the same the world over!

Rabbit Tales - Part 2

2005-02-10T18:37:00.000Z

Anybody remember my post about the dramatic, soap-opera lifestyle of the bunny family in our house? Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail they certainly were not, the little buggers. Well, in short, Mrs. Rabbit had been leading a solitary existence after her husband killed himself by impaling himself on piece of sharp wire. She abandoned her seven newborn babies, born shortly after her husband's passing, to their death. But then nothing else remarkable had happened until yesterday, when Tito's father found Mrs. Rabbit most conspicuous by her absence from her cage up on the third floor roof terrace. Oddly, one of his new teenage chickens was also found to be missing. We're still not sure what happened. At first, the only logical explanation was that the two had eloped together, sure that their relationship would not be accepted. But after a careful search, Tito's father found Mrs. Rabbit trapped in a crack between our house and the neighbour's. She was on her last legs when Jorge found her, so we roasted her for dinner. She was getting on a bit, and quite tough, to be frank. The chicken has vanished, though. Hope he's doing well, he's better off without her.

Sod's Law

2005-02-08T03:12:00.000Z

Was just thinking about Sod's Law. Tito is, by nature, wont to cast his possessions about the room with no regard for order. He misplaces things quite frequently, and in an attempt to remedy this I have been training him to put all his stuff in a certain place so he knows precisely where it is. This had all been going swimmingly, we even bought a study little plastic box for him to keep all his little things that normally get placed on any available surface: watches, sunglasses, wallets, coins, important phone numbers, and the like. Lovely. Except, when the thieves brokes into the house they didn't have to rifle through drawers and cupboards. They just picked up the nice little box left so neatly beside the bed with all of Tito's important little things in it. Now, I say nothing to clutter. Sod Sod.

Chiclayo: pop.480,000

2005-02-04T01:53:00.000Z

I've just realised that I haven't written anything describing the city of Chiclayo in the whole YEAR (on Saturday!) that we've been here. That absence itself speaks volumes, I daresay, about Chiclayo... a decidedly untouristy little city. It has almost nil tourists for a very good reason, that being: there is virtually nothing to see or do in the city. Frankly, I've come to the conclusion that although it's not a bad place to live, it would indeed be a very boring place to visit. Living somewhere you have the opportunity to discover all those great little restaurants, coffee shops with character, what part of the beach is the best, which night is 2 for 1 at the movies - these are the some of the small things that make life in Chiclayo tolerable/enjoyable.

Chiclayo central is based around the enormous, white trimmed, banana yellow Cathedral, and the tidy Plaza de Armas park (a Spanish style of arrangement on which virtually all cities and villages in Peru are based). The Cathedral makes for a dramatic sight again the perpetually bright blue sky - but you daren't linger on a bench in the busy park to enjoy it - unless you have a great deal of patience with shoeshine boys, beggars, sweet and cigarette vendors and lecherous would-be-companions. The surrounding streets are extremely congested with yellow Tico taxis, and the pavements are alive with mobile vendors (superglue, sunglasses, puppies, Q-tips, you name it) trying to scratch a living - Chiclayo is the largest major commercial centre in the north, after Trujillo. The major avenue, Balta is pleasantly tree-lined, and it can be quite diverting to take a stroll around, as long as you've got a tight grip on your wallet or handbag and you're not trying to get anywhere fast. There are a reasonable number of high street shops selling fashion clothes (mostly, erm, jeans) but the real shopping centre of Chiclayanos has to be the markets.

Chiclayo has several markets, which seem to go on forever... so that it's not clear where one ends and the next begins. Modelo market sells everyday items: combs, gold jewellery, fruit, shoes, frying pans, stationary, etc. It's famous for it's excellent witchcraft supplies section - which stocks everything from hallucinogenic San Pedro cactus to traditional Peruvian wooden dildoes (I've been considering investing in the latter as a conversation piece). It's really interesting to peruse the stock of Modelo - though gringos get an automatic mark up, and you do have to be careful about the quality of what you buy - especially plastic items 'Hecho en Peru'! Another gigantic market is Moshoqueque, which sells mostly fruit, veg, fish and meat wholesale. The meat area, which seems to span covered indoor areas as well as a wide, dusty road, has to be the most exciting. This is solely because the meat is not dead yet - the cacophony of knackered pigs, cows, chickens, goats, and sheep on their sides with their legs bound fills the air. You can even pick up a fresh cuy (guinea pig) or two for your tea - yum!

Which leaves me with nothing much else to describe - except the people who are really what Chiclayo is all about. The city is widely known as 'La Ciudad de Amistad' - the city of friendship, and with good reason, I think. For those living in a situation in which material things are generally few, shoddy, and quickly broken or stolen, the value of personal relationships really shows. There are huge differences in social class - with the greatest group of course being the poor, who live in often dire circumstances on the dusty mud mountains that surround the city. However, Chiclayanos are - generally - dramatic, boisterous, easy-going, pushy, friendly, open, rude, generous, and ready to laugh at anything. They love gossiping, drinking, eating cebiche, salsa dancing, and going to the beach, in that order. Plenty of time is taken to relax with friends and family (there is still a three or four hour siesta here!). No matter what Peru may lack, it certainly does not lack people - people with an enormous zest to enjoy the good times they come across as fully as possible!!

Totally Different Teaching Situations

2005-02-01T00:19:00.000Z

I really do think I hate ICPNA. To say they charge the students an arm and a leg and spend a packet on advertising, it is shocking how unprofessional and disorganised the company really is. Recently, I've felt like they are really taking the piss - what with classes taught for free, cancellations, upping the minimum class sizes, and naturally no pay or credit for preparation time, etc. It's a business, plain and simple, and the aim is to make money, of course. I think back on my time in Japan working for state schools... Sure, it was great to get paid rather well for whole days spent studying Japanese, planning my next holiday to Thailand and writing letters, in some ways. Yet, there were always so many random extra obligations, great expectations, formality and pressure to perform. Also, as a 'one-shot' teacher I constantly felt sad about never being able to lose my celeb status and make some real progress with the kids. At least here I can just do my job: go in, teach, leave. I can just be myself. I get attention for being a foreigner, but I'm not expected to act like a superstar. Seriously Reduced B.S. Re-reading this entry I made in 2002 makes me realise how totally different my situation is in Peru from what it was in Japan!

Tales from Fukiage Junior High School...
The speech contest is finally over, and I now have some spare time to write my journal... Yippee! No more coaxing reluctant spotty youths to enunciate and gesticulate! I was really quite busy around speech contest time because I was coaching 6 kids from 2 different Junior High Schools. They were so cute, but unfortunately only 1 of them won a prize (ahem, no reflection on the coach whatsoever I'll have you know). Well, it's 'good experience', isn't it? I told the kids that winning isn't important, but they still feel terrible when they don't win anything - and after all that bloody practising in front of the mirror with a hairbrush they must do it's not surprising. Today I got the following letter from the most lovely 2nd grader (about 13 years old):

Dear VanessaHello Vanessa. My name is Eri. Thank you for English speech. It's diffecult to me. But you teach me so kind. Thank you very much. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Thank you.

She thrust it in my palm after English class saying "I'm sorry, Banessa-sensai, I'm sorry!" with true heartful sincerity. I felt like a total slave driver and tears welled up in our eyes... man, I sometimes I just want to eat those kids up. I've been exchanging a shedload of letters with Junior High School students recently, it's my pet project to try to communicate with the kids more. They are shy at that age (12-15) and my superstar image doesn't enhance relations beyond shouting 'I am Japanese boy!' at me in the bikeshed. I told them if they write to me in English or Japanese I will answer their letter in English and give them a 'purikura' (a small photograph sticker) of me. I got about 50 letters in 7 days during my last visit to JHS, it kept me busy answering them. Most of the letters are about volleyball, Harry Potter, or David Beckham but others are surprisingly difficult to reply to...

Dear Vanessa,Hi Vanessa! How are you? I'm fine!! I like English. How about you? I hope that you like English. Do you like Japanese history? I'm not like Japanese history. Because Japan is killed Korean people the old days. How about you?

No, Fumio, I have never killed a Korean person (to my knowledge).

Dear Vanessa,Hello. My name Yuko . How are you? I'm fine. You are sexy body. I want you are sexy body. You are cute and pretty. I love you forever. See you.

Thank you, Yuko, here's a sticker.

Shall We Do It in the Country? Or Perhaps in a Group Session?

2005-01-27T18:41:00.000Z

Erm, still not sure what's going to happen with the wedding. It's so strange to find that things will likely only fall into place a week (or less) before we get wed. Peruvians do not plan ahead, so nor can we! Believe me, I've tried, but all our careful plans have fallen through. This a state of affairs that South Americans have to live with, and I can tell you firsthand that it's absolutely agonising. Tito and I are thoroughly peed off with the contrary bugger in Chiclayo Municipalidad who wants the Spanish document in English and the English document in Spanish... ie. he'd like a nice, hefty bribe, please and thank-you. Thus, we are looking at getting married in a little village just outside Chiclayo called Pomalca. It's quite nice, rustic and quaint. The problem with that option is that I would be the first gringa ever to get married there and thus the Mayor wants to throw a party for us! They want to go all out and put the story in the newspaper, but Tito reckons if we get any more attention he'll end up with a gun to his head. So, ah, no then. Another option which everybody keeps suggesting is a group wedding. They are held relatively often and a couple can be wed for only 50 soles, if they don't mind sharing the ceremony with dozens of other couples, that is. I find the concept of this almost too tacky for words, yet I suppose it would make rather an amusing anecdote... and, well, it really is quite unarguably convenient.

Wedding Nightmare

2005-01-25T18:12:00.000Z

Determined to get on with life, we have been trying to proceed as if we were normal. Tito just went into the 'Municipalidad' (City Hall) to get some more stuff sorted about the wedding. It's turning out to be a total nightmare! The certificate which we got from the British Embassy, Lima at a considerable expense of time and money is just not acceptable to the little bigwig in the Municipalidad, it seems. ¿Por que? Well, because it's written in Spanish. They don't believe it's the original certificate, even though it bears a great, massive stonking shiny red seal that has emblazed upon it in no uncertain manner 'BRITISH EMBASSY, LIMA'. They'd like it in English, they said, with a verified translation. I have just got off the phone with the Embassy. The lady who issued it has assured me they print it in Spanish to assist people.

Secondly, my original Canadian birth certificate which my mother has just sent me from England is likewise unacceptable. It needs to be verified by the Canadian Embassy in Lima. I have contacted them, but am terrified that this will require another trip to Lima. We simply cannot afford this after the robbery. Tito's just paid out to get another passport today; thank god they didn't take mine. Stay tuned... it seems my life has indeed turned into a soap opera! Or maybe some kind of wildnerness escape adventure - can Vanessa and Tito make it out of Peru alive?

We've Been Robbed

2005-01-24T18:19:00.000Z

As I sat in the internet cafe on Friday night, the thought occured to me that nothing particularly exciting/interesting had happened lately. I couldn't think of anything terribly compelling to blog about, and so made an entry about some funny names I've noticed recently. Then Tito came in, half an hour before I was expecting him. "We've been robbed and they've taken everything!" he said. "The money we've been saving for the wedding?" I cried. Yep. "The digital camera with the photos of our 12 months of Peru?" I sobbed. Yes, that too. My jewellery? Our mini-disc players???

We sped off home and were devastated to find that yes, they had indeed taken it all. Only a couple months before we plan to leave Peru, and they've got basically everything of value that we own(ed). The family's two televisions, a video player, and Tito's passport, too. Tito's sister, Perla, had come home just as the robbers were leaving; they'd pushed past her with a box of our things to get into the getaway car. She got good descriptions and the license plate number, but we don't have high hopes. The police here are useless.

We are absolutely gutted; but I think the worst thing about being robbed is the initial check... compiling the list. The "They've taken my alarm clock, too, the f**kers!" and the "Where's that beautiful silver watch I got for my 21st birthday?" type moments. After that, you just accept it. There'e nothing we can do, everyone's safe, it's not our fault. It's just a shame that this has happened a)right before we get married b)at a time when we've, frankly, had a string of awful bad luck that I've been trying not to moan about, and c)at the only time in my life when I haven't had insurance.

Determined not to let this get the better of us, on Saturday I bought an itsy bitsy bikini, some sangria, and off we went to the beach in the Celica with our doggy. People can envy us even more, if they like, because they just can't damage our relationship. They can't stop us. I pick up my wedding dress on Wednesday!

Let's Snigger at People's Names

2005-01-22T02:35:00.000Z

1. Boy in my class called 'Angel de Jesus'
2. Girl in same class called 'Darling Leydy'
3. Boy in Monika's class called 'Roosevelt'

EXTRA: My future niece is called 'Celeste Cristal'. Sounds pretty in English, doesn't it? But it Spanish, it translates literally as 'Light Blue Glass'. Worse still, she is named after her father's favourite football team, Lima's Cristal. Guess what their team's colour is? You guessed it - celeste.

Life's Little Details

2005-01-20T18:06:00.000Z

Often, people say to me "Ooo, you're sooo brave, I could never live abroad." To which I never know quite what to reply... erm, living abroad is not a special super power, and of course they could do it if they wanted to. Life is basically the same everywhere. You wake up, have breakfast, go to work, come home, eat supper, go to bed. I suppose the things that are the hardest to deal with about living in a foreign country are simply the details... if you move away from your home country you'd better be flexible about the details. I think I'm extremely flexible, but the details still do my head in sometimes... for example, here, I wake up in the morning and need a pee. I find that the loo is occupied by one of the many family members, and so I am forced to fall back in to a restless, full-bladdered doze. I hear the occupant exit, and hasten to open my door, only to find the next in the queue has entered... It's a tricky process. After I eventually gain access to the toilet, I'll have breakfast - that won't be the rice and seaweed I was accustomed to in Japan, but maybe some bread, black olives and avocado. I go to work here, just like anyone else. But I've never before had to travel by the 'collectivos' that function as Peru's public tranportation system (old chugging Dodges with 6 passengers plus driver, or small Japanese made Ticos with 5 passengers!). You get the picture...

I'm Getting Married Soon!

2005-01-16T21:45:00.000Z

Tito's gone to Lima this weekend, and I'm sad and mopey and lost. He's gone to the British Embassy to pick up the 'Certificate of No Impediment' which will allow us to finally get married. We want to get wed pretty soon, a rather low-key affair with the main reception to follow back in the UK. Here - just me and Tito and the beloved Celica. So yesterday I went shopping for a wedding dress in the central market (classy bird, me). I think I'm going to get a very simple, floor-length strapless gown in a striking iridescent violet-blue. Yes, seriously. Not very traditional, but very me. Nice with silver strappy sandles and lots of iridescent sparkles... ahh, Crystal Barbie, how your memory lingers. Anyways, it will match nicely with Tito's fabulous white suit. Last night I went to a disco so that I wouldn't stay up 'til three watching soppy movies that make me cry, as I did on Friday night, but it didn't cheer me up. It reminded me of being single, of being leered at by horrible blokes, and of bad, sweaty, stinky uni clubs. All I could do was think 'Ooo, if Tito was here, we'd have a laugh dancing to this' and fantasize to myself about seeing him walking towards me. Upon seeing my miserable chops I was advised "Your finance isn't here, so you need to take advantage of that!" by a friend's 18 year old girlfriend. HA! But really, I'm reveling in the misery. I miss that man so much, I'm glad I know how much I need him, love him, adore him. He is my motivation and my inspiration. And... We're getting married sooooon!!! How cool is that?!

Random Details

2005-01-14T18:31:00.000Z

1) In Peru, they have no equivalent for 'Ms.'. Furthermore, they seem to find the concept of it quite laughable.
2) By law, your birthday is a paid holiday. You automatically take the day off.
3) Peru is apparently the only country in the world where Coca-Cola has a serious rival. Peru's own 'Inca Kola' (which is flavoured with the traditional 'Hierba Luisa') vies for the leading position.
4) The most popular swearing phrase seems to be 'Concha tu madre' which translates as 'Clam of your mother'.
5) 'Cuy' (guinea pig) is sold in the butcher's section of all supermarkets - dehaired, of course.

By request... to Kim, who relishes all the little random details!

Do you know CUM?

2005-01-14T18:09:00.000Z

Benzaemon's hilarious blog about life in Japan has inspired me to re-relate this wonderful episode of miscommunication from my past... it still makes me giggle every time I think about it.

"Do you know CUM? C-U-M?" asked Mr. Ishijima, a member of my weekly English conversation class, as we chatted over coffee in a local family restaurant. The other members of my class (5 rather conservative middle-aged businessmen) looked towards me expectantly. I choked back a snigger and put on my best 'I don't, as yet, have any idea what you are talking about, so please extrapolate' face and tilted my head to the side (typically Japanese gesture of incomprehension). "CUM SHAFT" he elaborated, making some indecipherable gestures. The others nodded in agreement, and murmured "cum shaft", still waiting to see if I know it. At this point I exploded into completely hysterical, helpless laughter. The businessmen viewed my state with some concern, and tried more desperately now to make me understand. "OVERHEAD CUM" they shouted at me, making vigorous overhead cumming gestures with their hands. Mr. Takano passed me his fan and a glass of water in concern for my health. "DOUBLE OVERHEAD CUM" explained the exasperated Mr. Ishijima, now more than a little confused. That made 7 of us... Finally, I ask them to look up 'cum' in their high-tech portable electronic dictionaries. Mr. Lucky Rice Field's (that's what the kanji for his last name means - my terribly witty nickname for him) dictionary cost over a hundred and fifty quid - and does in fact contain the word 'cum'. He flushes red, starts giggling, and passes the dictionary around the table. The rest of the class dissolve into nervous, also slightly hysterical laughter, when they realize precisely what they have been bellowing at me. Turns out they were talking about D.O.H.C. shaft engines, or some such nonsense. The 'C' stands for CAM, not CUM...

After that things lightened up considerably. The class even felt comfortable enough after that to ask me what noise a poo makes in English when it falls in the toilet. (plop, obviously). Japanese is very onomatopoeic, and has at least 2 sounds for this, one being 'pocham' and another being 'boton'. Guess which word describes small pieces of poo and which the heavy log!

Good as New

2005-01-12T01:56:00.000Z

Just went to Modelo market to get the zip on my handbag, my glasses, and my ripped yukata robe repaired. If there's something that Peruvians really excel at, it's fixing things, sprucing things up, and making them look almost like new. For completely new zip and the installation of said, I paid a mere 6 soles (less than a quid). And I was delighted to have a new hinge fixed to an arm of my glasses for a trifling 3 soles. I'd been feeling down since I broke my lovely new glasses - they'd fallen off my face when I glanced down. As my sight is so appalling I had unfortunately stood on, and crushed, my specs as I searched for them. Anyway, everything here is used and used and used again. Interesting how the countries that make the least waste only do so out of necessity... everyone's dying to over consume, they just can't. The nice thing for me is that I can leave clothes I don't want here without the slightest guilt, rather, it will be charity. A totally different story to when I left Japan, and found that absolutely nobody wanted my stuff, and that they didn't even have second-hand clothing stores!

Back to Reality

2005-01-08T02:10:00.000Z

I was right... my great, chilled-out state of mind brought about by beautiful white beaches, tasty sea creatures and being with Tito for 12 whole days didn't last long. I'd like to bitch about the fact I developed nasty allergy symptoms immediately upon entering the vicinity of Chiclayo, that I only have one class at ICPNA this month (which means my total monthly earnings for January will be about 65 quid), that the construction workers stole all my white-board markers and put my classroom into great disarray, or that I only finally got paid for December today. But I won't.

Instead, I'd like to share a little traditional idiom which I feel sheds a fair bit of light on the Peruvian mentality regarding reproduction:
'Babies are born with bread under their arm.'
Brilliant! Peruvians - fear not starvation! Have a(nother) baby!

Tsunami

2005-01-08T01:28:00.000Z

I can't stop thinking about the tsunami. Every time we are trying to relax on the beach I can't help but ask everyone 'what would you do if you saw a huge wave crashing in behind you?'. It's particularly horrible to contemplate because Peru does not have a developed coastline, ie. there would be no stairs to climb, no concrete to cling to. So we would perish, just like the multitudes did in Asia. Words can't express.

Feliz Año Nuevo

2005-01-04T23:56:00.000Z

*One must be sure to write the little squiggle above the 'n' in 'año' or else the meaning changes to 'Happy New Anus'.

Ahhh... back to (ab?)normality after four days and four nights away on the various tropical beaches of Tumbes and Piura, on the most northerly coast of Peru. What can I say? We are totally broke, but after a pretty nasty family argument in the house (details upon request - it's better than an Isabel Allende novel) we were gagging for just a tiny bit of privacy. I decided to splash out and take 100 pounds out on my credit card. At times like this I really do love living in a poor country. My measley 100 pounds translated to 600 soles - which paid for travel of 500 kilometres each way (granted - on a cronky old 70's greyhound, but still), fabulous seafood feasts, mucho booze and entertainment for 4 days and 4 nights for the BOTH of us!

I now have the best, well, to be frank, the only tan of my life. I feel relaxed and happy and madly in love and considerably less narky. Works starts tomorrow, so I'd better enjoy this while it lasts!

What the (Witch) Doctor Ordered...

2004-12-29T23:21:00.000Z

1. A pleasant expectorant that seems to be based on homemade wine, gives a nice buzz and seems to work as well as the expensive German made one I was using.
2. Eucalyptus - pour boiling water over the leaves and drink as tea (horrible).
3. A clove of garlic, crushed, in honey - every morning and evening.
Sounds fair enough, I thought. But have you ever eaten an entire clove of garlic before? Neither had I, until this morning. Tito insisted I try it, probably because he is almost as fed up as I am of me being ill all the time. Under normal circumstances, I am a huge fan of garlic. Wack five fat cloves in my spag bol and I'm happy, spread on a clove per piece of garlic bread - no problemo. Unfortunately, the experiment this morning caused me to realise the burning sensation uncooked garlic causes in one's throat. Also, the gagging reaction that sensation causes. I did manage to get it down eventually, and was rewarded with a very strong, lingering pong of garlic that I can blast on innocent passersby. Not sure if I can eat another clove again tonight, yet I feel I really ought to give it a go. Hmm.

Top 10 Rather Different Things About X'mas in Peru

2004-12-27T22:52:00.000Z

1. Peruvians eat Christmas dinner at midnight on Christmas Eve, after singing to the nativity and hastily opening pressies
2. They also place the baby Jesus into the navitity at 12pm Christmas Eve, not before
3. After that they proceed to get lashed, then go out onto the streets to set off fireworks and drink beer
4. Christmas day is spent frying oneself on the beach and eating cebiche
5. There's not a sprout to be seen... Christmas turkey is generally served just with garbanzos (chick peas)
6. Hot chocolate (cocoa) here is made with lashing of cinnamon
7. Tito's father, Jorge, could be seen to devour the turkey's head (boiled) - he seemed to enjoy all the wrinkly bits round it's neck (barf!)
8. There's no Christmas cake, or pudding, instead Peruvians nosh 'Panetons' - big bread things with raisins and preserved fruit (think: massive hot cross buns)
9. The Chinese population here often prepare the turkey Chinese style (we had some yesterday at the home of our friend 'El Chino')
10. No cheese! No mince pies! No brandy! No stuffing! No Quality Street! Yet, No snow! No roasting frozen parts in front of the gas fire! No gloves, hats, scarves! HARHARHAR!

Off to the Witch Doctor...

2004-12-22T18:44:00.000Z

Further to my previous post, let me tell you exactly what I intend to do about it. I am going to give Peruvian medicine a go. It's based on knowledge handed down for thousands of years from pre-Inca times, and luckily for me, Chiclayo is famous for its excellent witch doctor supplies section in the Modelo market. I have perused it several times before, but have found it's selection of herbs (amongst stuffed cats and lizards, San Pedro hallucinogenic cactus and traditional Peruvian wooden dildos) a bit daunting. But no more! I totally despair of Western medicine, and I am off for a consultation with a witch doctor. I'll let you know how it goes...

Western Medicine is Crap

2004-12-22T18:16:00.000Z

I haven't blogged for a week (the longest ever!) because I've been really ill. The ear infection proved to be quite powerful, and moved to my chest. Anyhow, more interesting than the tiresome details of that, is the conclusion that this episode has led me to. WESTERN MEDICINE IS CRAP! I have had unrelenting, serious asthma for over twenty years, and the various medicines I have been prescribed have barely been able to control it, let alone cure it. In fact, I now realise, the medicines have not only failed to cure, but also left me worse off than I was when I started. Let me explain... About three months ago I became somewhat fed up of waking up in the night unable to breathe, etc. on my normal course of steroid inhalor and Ventolin. So I went to the doctor (who is, incidentally, Tito's uncle). He prescribed various things, which did bugger all, so I returned a couple of weeks later. He then prescribed me a cortisone injection, to clear up all the fluid on my chest. This was great! I was normal for a whole month! Then, after precisely a month to the day, I returned to exactly the same state as I was in before I started. I went back to the doctor, and he prescribed me another cortisone injection, plus some tablets which function to strengthen the body against asthma. I felt great for two weeks! So good, in fact, that I went frolicking in the freezing cold ocean. Unfortunately, the doctor had failed to warn me that the lovely cortisone jab would seriously lower my immune system. I do wish he'd mentioned that, because I might not have contracted the ear, throat and chest infection, had I known. Now, after three months of treatment I am feeling almost as healthy as I did when I started. Not quite, but almost. I am however, hundreds of soles worse off, having donated them to the medication producing conglomerates. Just in time for Christmas, too!