El narco

I have a new favorite haunt: the farmacia. You can get anything there except marijuana and a girlfriend. You walk in, play charades, and presto! .... you're cured. My headaches disappeared after one or two pills; so did my cough. My friends' stomach ailments have been cured. One of the teacher's toenails was turning a god-awful purple and the farmacia took care of it. Xanax is sold over the counter. It's like a candy store. OK, you have to trust your own diagnosis and the diagnosis of the farmacia worker, but so far so good. Take that Obama-care.

I still haven't adapted to Peruvian time, which is a minimum of 10 minutes later than scheduled times. For example, class starts at 7 a.m. and things get rolling at  7:10 a.m. at the earliest. Apparently, students, teachers and staff here have adapted to Peruvian time better than I have. Being an anal American, it can drive me un poco loco. My favorite lunch spot, Mishka, opens randomly and closes randomly. Walk there for lunch on a Tuesday and the doors are locked. Open Wednesday with fantastic food, closed again Thursday, and who knows the rest of the week. Still love the place.

There was some kind of bottle fight outside my apartment window last weekend at 4 a.m. Glass shattering, guys screaming, and more glass shattering. Sounded kind of nasty. It had to be loud to wake me up. I scored brownie points in the neighborhood the next day by cleaning up the glass while folk walked up and down the alley where I live. I believe the glass could still be there if I hadn't cleaned it. However, Arequipa is a clean city even though I see people littering all the time. Municipal workers are cleaning the streets every morning, sweeping up cigarette butts, banana peels and the like. By 9 a.m., the city sparkles, except for the piles of trash left on some of the street corners. No worries. Packs of dogs look after the trash piles. 

I had three dogs growl and walk menacingly toward me while I stood outside my apartment last Sunday. So I did what any cowardly gringo would do: I ran back into my apartment. The dogs moved along. I don't have to remind myself to not pet the dogs.

I feel more accepted in my neighborhood all the time. The grumpy lady who owns a little shop nearby actually gave me a yapa (a freebie) -- an extra piece of pan. This is the same lady who charged me S/.1,30 for a candy bar while the guy next to me got the same candy bar for S/.1. That's a true story. I guess it's the gringo tax.

I miss the season changes. It's Spring here, which means it's sunny and warm in the day, a little cool at night. Reminds me of winter in Peru, which is sunny and warm in the day, a little cool at night. I hear it's pretty much the same in the fall, too. Summer (Christmas-time) is supposed to start a rainy season. It hasn't rained once since I've been here, and I've been here 3 and a half months.

Glad this month is over. I resigned as ASS. director last week, choosing to focus on teaching starting in November. Teaching is the main reason I came here. The teaching is going wonderfully, while the ASS. job reminded me of my night managing editor days. Been there, done that. Walked into a metal grate on a window and cut my head, and few days later fell off a sidewalk. Sober both times. I've mentioned that walking here can be a contact sport. Also, I managed to piss off George Thorogood. A buddy from ESPN emailed me for information about George's old sports days in Delaware. I joked (and I was joking, sort of) that George was a slap-hitter who couldn't get around on my fastball. He shot back some funny but pretty sharp stuff about me. I'm not going to get into a pissing match with a .218 lifetime hitter. Just kidding George .... I know it's .228.

Two of my good friends here -- Anna and Vanessa -- are moving on. I'll miss their belching and constant illnesses. Later guys.

San tennista

On a very rare cloudy morning in Arequipa, I'm enjoying a breakfast of pepino, yellow granadilla, green apples, little bananas, drinkable yogurt, super sharp cheese, and my beloved pan de tres puntas. I deserve a treat. It was a  rough weekend of homesickness and other emotional maladies, and I even smoked a cigarette or five -- effectively ending a 14-year drought. But back to the fruit. Granadilla is awesome, and I'm sure many of my devoted readers (ha ha) have tried it. I think it's also called maracuya, and it's supposedly good for urinary tract infections and sporadic coughing. Both are on the way for me, I'm sure. It's very light. You crack it open and eat the mucus-like center, seeds and all. Mucus-like is the only way to describe it. Yet it's absolutely delicious. I think it's also known as a passion fruit, but I know nothing about passion. The pepino, which I've been told means cucumber, doesn't taste like it looks. The outside is cream colored with some purple stripes. It looks kind of like a peach when it's cut in half, but tastes a tiny bit like a cross between cantelope and cucumber. It's also quite good, and good for you as well. Helps with depression, I believe. I'm feeling better already. (I have a picture of some of my breakfast. Properly name the fruits and bread and you get a prize -- another blog from me in a week or so.)
I'm playing tennis this afternoon with a teacher named Rony. I'll see if he'll let me post his picture. The dude can play some tennis. He's younger, 36, USTA certified or something, and about 25 cuts above my level. He's a good sport about our differences in ability. We're playing on clay courts, which is kind of cool. I like the color, and the ball bounces all over the place. Rony's top-spin is ridiculously good, and oh by the way, I suck at tennis. On the bright side, I suck even more at golf.
I've hit a bit of a routine. The little shop owners near my apartment all know me now and are quite friendly, and I have a budding friendship with the lady near the Puente Grau who makes my anticuchos. She's great, and so is her anticuchos. She has a daughter or granddaughter who's 11 that hangs with her sometimes. I call the little girl 'once' (pronounce all the letters for 11 in Spanish) and we high-five when we see each other. I guess with friends like this, there's really no need to get down. It's a good scene here.