Landing in Lima

Lima, Peru:

For a city known in parts of the world as one of the most dangerous, Lima was fantastic. We arrived at the airport at 8 PM. At the recommendation of our hostel, we found a taximan from the company "Taxi Green" and told him the address of our hostel. After figuring out where we were going, he asked if we were from Barcelona. When I told him we were from the U.S., he was very surprised and complimented our Spanish (Jay's too!). So... that's promising, right?

He was a very nice man and it was really nice to talk to him. Actually, he did most of the talking, giving us tons and tons of advice on where to go in Peru. Unperturbed by the fact that we are spreading our 4 months among 9-10 countries, he suggested that we go to Lima, Cajamarca, Trujillo, Chiclayo, Piura, Tumbes, Arequipa, Nasca, Pisco, Ica, Puno, and especially to Cusco, his favorite city.

Ah, and a quick note about airport customs. When filling our our declaration sheets, it stated (in addition to the regular $10,000 limit, electronics, and alcohol stuff) that any foreign beverage with the name "Pisco" on it will be confiscated. HA! I know that Chile and Peru have a rivalry about who invented the delicious brandy, but that was pretty unexpected.

We finally arrived at our Hostel (Albergue Miraflores House). They served us free piscolas (Peruvian Pisco - a type of brandy- with lemon juice and coca cola), gave us maps of the city, and arranged for bus tickets to Trujillo for the next night. The common room had musical instruments, a television with lots of DVDs, and a computer with an internet connection. The computer was almost always in use and, as our room was right next to the main room, we were worried that it would be very noisy. However, everyone went to their rooms by midnight and it was very quiet... plus we had the guitars (Jay) and internet to ourselves.

In the morning we went for a jog along the coast in Miraflores (the neighborhood where our hostel was). We got views of the water covered in fog and seaside parks during our run.

After showering, we went to the center of Lima. We saw the Plaza San Martin, the Plaza Mayor, San Francisco church, and Santo Domingo convent, to name a few.

It was a really great day and, above all, our hostel was fantastic. We want to return to see more of Lima and much more of Miraflores, and if we stay the night again, we'll definitely return to the same hostel. As I right this, we're on the bus to Trujillo...More updates to come!

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Preliminary reports from a Central American airport

San Salvador, El Salvador:

Our plane is leaving in about 90 minutes and we're in the waiting area...waiting. There is a huge window in front of us through which we can see the beautiful flora of San Salvador. There are tons of trees out there and it looks like it is probably humid and warm, although the waiting area is cool and dry. I want to explore the city, to run around outside after having sat all day... although we're still in the Northern hemisphere, it looks like it could be Summer out there. (Maybe it'll actually be too hot when we get to South America?) I am very excited, but at the same time nervous. It's been a long time since I've been here (or rather, in South America) and my Spanish is much worse than it once was. Regardless, I want to travel and improve my Spanish (and "Chilean"). Jay is being a great sport - He's trying to communicate in Spanish and is even practicing with the Salvadoreans. He just bought "Narnia: El León, la Bruja, y el Ropero" and he's putting a lot of effort into understanding it.

The televisions here are all programed to the same station of Christian music videos... It's quite terrible and Jay thinks it's actually more in the realm of "musac". On the plus side, one advantage of our 5-hour layover here is that I've had time to perfect plans A, B (in case we don't get into Brazil), and then C and D as well, just for funsies. So, if we can't end up going to Carnival, at least we'll have a tempting consolation prize of more time in Chile (Chiloé, Santiago, Atacama), Bolivia (Lake Titicaca), and Peru (Puno, Cusco, Huaráz, Iquitos) before heading off to Venezuela.

Photos!

Okay, quick post because we're busy busy busy and out the door (to our last stop, Houston)...

Photos are going up, and are up-to-date through Minnesota (plus Glacier National Park, Seattle, Portland, and the summer in Mt. Shasta, San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley). Chicago, DC, Boston, New York, and New Orleans still in progress. (Jay took photos in Atlanta, but I did not, so they will go up in an entry here.)

Follow the Smugmug link on the right-hand menu ---> 

or simply go here: http://scerenity.smugmug.com

Albums are organized in reverse chronological order. Alternatively, you can click on a continent at the top of the page (directly below the title) and navigate to countries, states and cities from there.

Enjoy!

Thoughts

It’s snowing in Toronto.

Well, sort of.

I look out the window and see little white specks, just dancing with each other, playing in the wind, oblivious to the world around them. They look as happy as can be. They don’t even bother going straight down, or even sticking to any surfaces for that matter, so content are they in their own ways – no, they’re much too lighthearted for that sort of thing. They’re just jovial enough to flicker for a moment in the air, flowing back and forth in front of us, giving a short burst here and there, and then disappearing from our sight forever.

I’m not thinking too much, or anything. Swear. It’s just really, really, really cold outside, and no way am I going out there today. So I’m gonna chill (heh) inside, relax, read, write, take advantage of internet access while I have it (aka stock up), and ponder the ways of the world. Being alone for prolonged periods seems to have this effect. I don’t think I’m unique in that way, it’s just the isolation. Nothing to do outside? Ok, then; time to go inside.
While trying to go to sleep last night, I was having trouble for two reasons. 1) I couldn’t get this nagging feeling out of my head that I needed to prove to myself that I have in fact done something with my life, and 2) the newest member of the dorm room snores like an industrial jackhammer. Running low on batteries. During a thunder storm. I mean, Jesus.

So to solve both of these problems, I grabbed my little notebook and a pen, made sure I had my keys, and set up shop on the little stairwell outside. And I wrote. This is what I came up with:

I’ve taken a piss in the streets of London. I’ve gotten drunk in the fields of Oktoberfest. I’ve been spat at in Spain and been accosted by an old drunk in Korea. I’ve been (partially) conned in Serbia and eaten the most amazing gyros in Greece that you can imagine. With French fries. I’ve witnessed the recklessness of children in Turkey and climbed the Dolomites in Italy; wearing sandals. I’ve known the wrath of a Portuguese housekeeper in Canada. I’ve been the victim of drive-by guinea pig urine in America. I’ve vomited in the waters of the Pacific and flown over the North Pole. I’ve eaten live squid.

I’ve been part of all these things out of an innate love to find the new. I become idle much too easy and find that my complacent self is not deserving of the joys made available to me. I want to experience much more than I have, I want to be taken beyond my comfort, and grow beyond myself. So I will keep going.

I then proceeded to write out a few short steps:

The What: I’m going to write. About my travels, about my findings, about my opinions and reactions, about the people I meet and the things I do. My obsessive need for collecting and my love for the process of accumulating will be channeled into this.

The Why: Because the more I travel, the more I forget. This is mostly an act of selfishness. I don’t want to look back and go “God, I wish I could remember that time when…” That’s not who I want to be. I want to experience my life, laugh at my life, take part in it, and be able to remember it at the end of the day, to realize just how remarkable it is. I want to create and express, and to be someone that I can respect.

The Who: Jason Gutiérrez Marrone, born April 8th, 1985 in Mad River Hospital in Arcata, California, USA. I am fond of hot dogs, quesadillas, and have a particular weakness for root beer of any kind. I have insatiable facial hair that refuses to be tamed. I have a love of music. I absorb art. I have the love of a woman who I am honored to call my person. I like blues, greens, and reds, but am not prejudiced against other hues.
I am me. And my heart is pounding.

The Want: I want to be good at writing. Not only for the sake of my memory, but also to have the confidence to share my thoughts with a complete stranger. To expose myself in such a way, to risk judgment, to gamble my integrity. I want to have this stranger read my words and become engrossed. I want to have a tale worthy of that kind of fascination.

At which point, I thought, and who’s to say I don’t already have that tale? I need to organize my thoughts, align the chronology, and write down all the parts where I felt joy, wonder, puzzlement, curiosity, absurdity, inanity – all the things that make life worth living.

It’s still snowing, but now the sun is coming.

Impressions and Reactions - Toronto, Canada - Part 2

Waiting for the wash now. I never quite know just how rushed the laundry facilities would be at 12:17 during the heat of day. Don't people have better stuff to do? Like go outside? Be social? Explore the city? God. I'm supposed to be doing things at odd times, thus to avoid the rush. Didn't they get the memo?

And I'm the only one who looks the part of antisocial derilict - the other three people surrounding me are two quite tall, built, and attractive men (aren't they supposed to be out schmoozing or playing hockey or something?) and one extremely tall and thin blond woman (who should definitely be outside schmoozing or playing hockey). One of the blokes is even ironing. Ironing! Damnit, last night I was able to successfully sew a latch onto the back of my bag to avoid having the flap go crazy in the wind; now my quest for guy-with-household-skills position is being challenged. There can be only one.

Something else: I love accents. Not only foreign-language accents (for example, one of the cleaning ladies named Rita is from Portugal and speaks Portuguese, Spanish, Italian and English. I asked if she was learning French, living in Toronto and all, and she scoffed and made a funny face. So she was fun. And her accent engaging), but also the regional accents of English. Turns out I'm rooming with two other Californians, so I don't hear it while upstairs, but down here in the basement awaiting my turn at (now) the dryer, accents are popping up from all over. I'm hearing some Australian, some English, some awesome cockney-isms. I just got a "Cheers, mate" for letting the guy after me know my wash was done. I love that. While doing an Adventure Korea trip, Jessie and I heard "The coach is a bit hot, isn't it" referring to the tour bus. Lino used to dole out all sorts of goodies (which would often lead us to discuss the peculiarities of differences regarding pronunciation and the lack of phoneticism [heh] that abounds in English), and Ron from Harry Potter says "Wicked". How awesome is that? The only thing I can bring to the table is Californian surf-speak, which I refuse to do. Likewise, I don't think Jessie is willing to sell her soul and commence with Valley Girl lingo. So we're just accent-less, and thus cool-less. Bugger.

So the best I can do is adopt a few I like, and chock it up to adaptation. Hey, Jessie does it with Spanish.

Funny thing. Turns out the reason there was a big cram right around noon, is because starting around 1, going till about 5, it's time for all the cleaning ladies to come down and wash the linens, sheets, and pillow cases. Oops. So now I have this clump of wet clothes that need drying, and the dryers are currently bogged down with "official" laundry in 45-minute increments.

Update: Just spoke with Rita, who let me scamper in for a little bit. Bless her. After 5, I'll come down and do my second load (consisting of the stuff I'm currently wearing, cuz it's rank), and then I'll be all set.

To pass the time of waiting, I’ve been consistently getting fresh material for my dilapidated iPod. This mostly involves films or other such visual fun such as comedy stand-ups and random youtube happinesses. Happinesses. I love new words.

My current list consists of Louis CK, Marcus Brigstocke, Jeff Dunham, Eddie Izzard, Mitch Hedburg, Demetri Martin, Rob Paravonian, BJ Novak, Janeane Garofalo, Robin Williams, and a few others. It involves lots of patient downloading, renaming, transferring, and converting, but goddamnit, I'm expecting to be thoroughly mesmerized by the joyous results of modern technology, completely and without remorse on this train ride back down. Or else.

I've also managed to acquire a sandwich. So I feel proud. Not so proud, however, about the time I got it in. Since the laundry has completed itself, I decided I should perhaps go and attempt to complete some other things that needed doing. Namely, finding a US Consulate and getting more pages for my poor, poor passport. Turns out, there's one not 10 minutes from where I'm currently staying. So go there, and comes to be thatthe only time American Citizen Services (ACS, for short they say) applicants will be taken is 8:30 - 12:00. It's nearly 14:00. Bugger. So, failure number 2 of the day (1st being the laundry fiasco), and off to get some lunch.

Oh, and in-between my time-management failure and my lunch, I saw this little treasure, complete with the CN Tower in back:

(If any of my South Korean hagwon students are reading this, look away now, please.)

So yeah. Day 2, check. I plan on finishing my current book (J. Maarten Troost, who I love enough to have bought his second book already), finding dinner (maybe go back to the Sushi place, they were nice), and then early to bed, as I must rise and be official on the morn.

-Jay