Casa de Juan

I would be remiss in my duties as a "blogger" if I didn't write a little about the place where I live, or as everyone calls it, The Casa de Juan. The pictures I'm posting will give you a better idea of the place than my drivel, but I'll try to add what I can. Consider it a tribute to my landlord Juan. Living here in the heart of Arequipa has been a blast -- from the fireworks that go off in the area about three times a week, to the relentless barking of the neighbor's dog, to Juan's penchant for listening to Spanish opera (and he has nice sound system) at 5:30 a.m., to the very chilly showers (although it has been heating up a little lately), to the tiny kitchen you share with the other tenants, to the brawls and battles outside my window at all hours of the night, to the incessant honking of horns, to the inconsistent internet. All that said, what sticks with me the most about this place is how really pretty and peaceful it is even with the surrounding chaos. The tile floors are striking, even if they're white and dust magnets. There are flowers and plants everywhere. The hallway has no ceiling -- it's open-air so you can step out of your room and see the stars. The open-air second-floor patio (although it's much bigger than a patio) features more plants and flowers and most impressive, murals on the walls. It's where I do my wash, lesson plan on occasion, and just chill out. Keep climbing the outdoor stairs and you reach the roof. I've posted pictures from the roof on this blog, but they don't really do the view justice. And of course, there's Juan. Wonderful guy with a lot of charisma -- I've mentioned that he's an author and authority on all things Arequipa, a wonderful singer, a bullfighting aficionado, and all-around man about town. I'm glad I lucked into this place at the recommendation of one of the teachers. I almost rented a place in the "classier and safer" part of town. I didn't rent there because I would have had to share a bathroom -- I'll put up with cold water as long as I have my own bathroom. If I come back to Arequipa, I would try to rent here again.
I only have a few more days of teaching remaining, and I'm getting ready for my Feb. 6 departure. It's been a rough month with loads of teaching hours, including a four-hour stint on Saturday. I'll have a couple of days to relax before heading out. My Saturday TEFL class and I are going to lunch this Saturday -- ceviche, of course. I've gotten a couple of gifts from some other students, and it's really quite touching. The students -- and the visit from my son Jack -- have been the highlights of my time in Arequipa. I'll try to scratch out one more blog post before I leave (sure y'all can't wait) and post pictures of some of the folk in town who've treated me really well the past 6.5 months.

'Ho-down

I was told there were a couple of mild earthquakes last weekend. I missed them both somehow. Probably, because at about the time the earth was moving I was being accosted by a prostitute on my way to San Camilo Market.  I had finished my TEFL class, bought some wine and was wandering the sketchy part of town like I do every Saturday. I've seen hookers scattered about, but on this day I ran into a 'ho cluster about a block from the market. I must have looked like a wounded gazelle because one of the prostitutes broke from the pack and latched onto my left arm and wouldn't let go. I was worried the rest of the pack was going to pounce and take me down, but they just watched and laughed as I tried to break free from the rogue 'ho. Not that I'm THAT kind of guy, but I did notice the woman grabbing me was young (compared to the rest of the pack) and fairly attractive (compared to the rest of pack). But that was no lady, a bunch of locals told me. One of the teachers in the know said, "Oh, the good-looking one? Kind of thin? That's a dude." Anyway, after I escaped the gift of grab I went to the market to buy some tooth paste and such. Of course, I got into a hassle over change, which can wear you down a little here. While I was bickering I put S/.20 in my jacket pocket and waited for the change I was due. I got my meager change and walked to El Super, the bustling supermarket "uptown" closer to where I live. I've had enough of the Central Market. I was about to buy some stuff at El Super but when I reached into my pocket, no S/.20. I'd been picked. Really, it was my fault for not taking smaller bills and not taking more care. But, it's tough to break the big bills I'm paid with here. The lines at the banks are crazy long, and the tellers are in no hurry. They have the power. You could easily spend 40 minutes in line trying to break S/.100. Kind of a catch 22. Luckily, it was only S/.20 and not my passport or credit cards.
Working lots -- teaching 44 hours a week. It's starting to take its toll. I'm in bed before 10 every night and I'm still dragging. Fought off a mild stomach thing (some bad anticuchos from the bridge). The rain has stopped and it feels more like summer with highs reaching 80. Still, very few people, including the kids, wear shorts here. It's blue jeans and T-shirts. Usually, it's just the tourists wearing shorts, and seeing their physiques, a lot of them really should be wearing more clothes. Got a countdown going ... I head back to the U.S. Feb. 6. Can't wait to see the family.

Wet and wild

So after more than five months of constant sunshine and no rain, we are now in the midst of a deluge in Arequipa. It has rained for six straight days with only intermittent breaks. A few hours here and there of dryness, but even then it's threatening to rain. The sun has been out once, or maybe twice, in this stretch. I'm working a boatload, so to speak, so I don't really care, but everyone else seems a bit grumpy. And with the wet weather, walking has become even more challenging and dangerous. Pedestrians here ordinarily just bang into you, never say say excuse me, and rarely get out of your way even in the best weather. But now they're even more rude, if I may use that word -- and they're carrying weapons/umbrellas. Most Peruvians are shorter than me, meaning their umbrellas are at my face-level. No one seems very concerned about my face, and I've taken a couple of shots to the grill. The taxis will race by you, and since there's no drainage, expect to get soaked. It happened to me three times this past week. Still love the place, though. I woke up this morning (Saturday) to two guys screaming and yelling at each other outside my apartment. I took my ice-cold shower, got dressed, and when I went outside the two guys were on the ground punching and clawing. And still screaming. A woman cop stood over the two smiling and watching, while some other guys tried to separate the pair, who were both pretty beefy (but probably still shorter than me). This neighborhood is a bit sketchy, and my neighbors rarely acknowledge me when we cross paths, so I never did find out what the deal was. Probably just a couple of drunk a-holes blowing off steam at 7 a.m. My new anticuchos hangout is the best. Giant, juicy, tender chunks of marinated beef heart, with two hearty potatoes, grilled, and smothered in ahi' (glorious hot sauce). I'm hitting that place at least four times a week. In fact, I'm heading there tonight even though it's raining gatos y perros. Yes, my Spanish is beginning to improve, but of course I'm here for only about a month more. Oh well. I'm in the process of kicking the cigarette habit, which I picked up during my low stretch in October. Knowing they're so cheap adds to the challenge, but knowing they're so expensive in the U.S. adds to the incentive. The little girl who sells me wine recommended a 2007 cabernet sauvignon, Broquel, produced by the Argentinian winery Trapiche. It costs S/.38 (about $13.50 U.S.). I don't know squat about wine, but this stuff tastes pretty darn good. That little girl knows her vino. I'm already beginning to miss this place, and I haven't even left yet.