Last day in Cusco - 2 days in Lima -- Arrival in Colombia!

I'm done with the historical stuff for awhile -- let's check out the social scene.

After recovering from Inti Raymi, I had one more free day in Cusco before heading off to Lima first thing on Sunday morning. Local friends that I had made in Cusco told me of a 'festival', which I believe is somehow connected with Inti Raymi. After attending, I can best compare this celebration to Denver's local stock show, with the obvious upgrade of Latina music and cute girls onstage dancing. It was a good day spent away from the usual tourist crowd, and my latina dancing skills benefited as a result.

I headed off to Lima the next day for a brief 2 day visit, which in retrospect should have extended by a couple of days. I immediately headed to my hotel in Miraflores, which is widely considered the safest, upscale part of the city. I arrived around noon, and checked into a very nice hotel room, which had its own whirlpool -- I can assure that I took full advantage of this luxury over the two days! I initially walked around the nicer part of the city for 3 or 4 hours during the afternoon. As I'm walking back to my hotel around 4, I see 5 guys in the early 20's knocking the soccer ball around the streets. In my newly developed Spanish speaking skills, I asked the boys if they were of to play a game somewhere. They informed that they were heading down to the beach for their usual Sunday routine to play 5 v 5 on a beach court, and they invited me to play. I jumped at the opportunity. I spent the next 3 hours in a fantastic, competitive beach court soccer game -- Peruvian style. This was unlike any game I've ever played. The beach court is a cement slab about 20 x 40. When you hit the sand, you've gone too far. The court is also scattered with sand throughout, so you can imagine that stopping is no easy matter, especially in my hikng shoes turned soocer cleats. Much of the game is played in the air, since there is little room to create passing lanes between the players. After adopting to the strategy, I think the Peruvians were quite impressed with their American recruit, and we became quick friends. We headed out for a couple of drinks that night, and then they showed me the local dance spots on a Sunday night which was quite an adventure.

The next day in Lima, Monday, I wanted to spend the morning at the Museo of Nacion, which is supposed to be the best archive of Peruvian pre-colombian information. Unfortunately, the Museo is closed on Sunday and Monday. I headed do the Museo del Congreso y Antiquo Tribunal de la Inquisicion instead. Unfortunately, when I arrived at 10, I found out that English tours are only given in the afternoon. I joined a Spanish tour instead, with the hopes that my new skills might allow me to pick up something hear and there. It was virtually useless, and none of the writing in the museum was in English. As much as my Spanish has improved over the past couple of weeks, I still struggle with understanding the locals when they speak with their native tonque. To the best of my knowledge, the museum was a replica of the torturous confines used by the local church to convert naysayers to Christianity. The displays showed some horrendous types of torture.

...which brings me to one final point. Many of you are familiar with the philosophy of Burrito Day. For those of you that are not, Burrito Day is a Boeing Friday lunch routine that evolved under my organization which focuses on getting in touch with each person's inner rage! We all have it -- but many chose not to show it. Anyhow, my rage level in South America has been at all time low for the majority of the time, but something has recently started to make the combustible fluids deep within start to boil. Speaking Spanish with the locals can be very difficult simply because of the speed with which they talk. I'm sure Americans are guilty of the same thing. However, this whole exercise is made increasingly more difficult when the locals continue speaking at the same speed after being asked to slow down and make no attempt to alter their speed:

Gringo: "Pardon senor, podias ayudarme encontrar el Plaza de Armas" (Excuse me sir, could you help me find the Plaza de Armas?)
Local (with arms flying in every which direction): Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah
Gringo: "Puedes hablar mas despacio por favor?": (Could you please speak more slowly?)
Local (in quite possibly a faster tone of voice): Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah
Gringo: Uhhhh....

...at this point, the rage sets in, and it takes every ounce of my self-control to calmly thank the local for their help, and calmly walk away from the ridiculous encounter. Oh well - we've all done the same at some point.

I plan to spend a couple of days here in Cartagena, and then head up to the coast to Ciudad Perdida and Parque Tayrona.