Still a sol

I'm going to teach again in Peru. In fact, I'm here now, and will get my teaching schedule next week. Saw some of the old gang, and renewed acquaintances. Good stuff. I'm here again, really, because timing seems to be everything. The day after I committed to return to Arequipa, I got an email to interview for a teaching job in Turkey that I had applied for a couple of weeks before. It was in a town called Gaziantep, one of the oldest cities in the world located fairly close to the Syrian border. I had to tell them I had taken a job in Peru. On my way down here, a friend texts me with a strong lead on a job in the Delaware public school system. I had to tell him I was on my way to Peru (actually I got the message while hanging around the Miami airport). My trip here started with a very pleasant train ride from Wilmington, Del., to Baltimore. The flight from BWI to Miami was smooth, as was the flight from Miami to Lima. But I was just a bit tardy for my Lima to Arequipa flight and had to hang around the Lima airport for 12 hours until the next flight. That flight got delayed an hour, just for spite I think, but I made it to Arequipa 6 p.m. Wednesday. I left Delaware 12:30 p.m. Tuesday. I arrived at Juan's house where I'll be living again, but he wasn't home yet, so I wandered down to the Puente Grau and saw the anticuchos lady and young Guadalupe. Smiles and high-fives all the way around. And four anticuchos sticks as well. A man's got to eat. Went back to Juan's and got settled in my room (it's not the same room I had, which is fine. My old room bordered the street and the action sometimes got a little noisy). Today, I had lunch (beef soup, cow stomach, rice with potatoes) with landlord Juan at a lunch-only place on our street, and Juan even picked up the 7-sol tab. We're going to have lunch at a new place tomorrow. Saw the guy who owns the little shop on the corner, and he joked that I'm losing my fluency in English. Not much has really changed in the six months I've been away. Six pieces of very good pan de tres puntos (a kind of roll) is still a sol. Anticuchos is still a sol a stick. Juan still plays opera, and the trash truck still rings its bells loudly at 7 a.m. It's great to be back. Weather is great, of course. Needed a light jacket last night. Sunny and pleasant today. It'll be that way until the rainy season starts late December. Did I mention it's great to be back? I've posted a picture of a Hamilton (made only in Peru) cigarette pack cover to shock all of my young readers into never smoking. They're on all the brands here and some are pretty graphic and nasty.

Living the high(way) life

Since I've returned to Delaware three weeks ago I think I've put on about 10 pounds. Instead of walking a few miles each day like I did in Arequipa for six months, I'm now driving about 30 miles a day. I enjoy driving my car again sort of, but don't enjoy the $55 it takes to fill the tank. Gas prices keep rising, too. And since I've been back, I'm hitting all my old favorite food and beverage joints, like the Charcoal Pit, Grotto Pizza, Dunkin' Donuts, State Line Liquors (with its fabulous beer selection) and on and on. Some days I wander out to the state park along the Brandywine River nearby and hike around. Hopefully, I can post a picture. Found a Peruvian restaurant here, but it cost $7 for a side of potatoes with sauce. They gave me a free chicken "quarter" (when I told them about Arequipa) and it was OK, but I still miss the anticuchos and tres leches. Weather here has been pretty good lately, especially for February. Highs near 50 and lows around 30 (fahrenheit). It ain't Peru, though. Getting paperwork together to start substitute teaching. Not too difficult, but it's a bit of a process. I've been looking after my dad, who will be 97 in a week or so, and future travel plans are temporarily on hold, given his situation. I'm heading to Ohio on Wednesday to see my kids and a buddy in Yellow Springs, do my taxes, and renew my teacher's license. I can't wait to see my children. I think about them all the time. Of course, I worry every day about Jack, who's in Afghanistan now. We all know what's happening there currently. I really miss Peru and the people there, but's it's nice to see some old friends here. Yin and yang, I guess.

The trip -- and home

My return to the United States from Arequipa, Peru, was something of a long, strange trip. I left Arequipa on Sunday, Feb. 5, at 6:40 p.m., taking a Taca Airlines flight to Lima. Once I picked up my luggage in Lima I had some real time to kill. My next flight, to Panama City, departed at 3:04 a.m., meaning my layover was something like seven hours. Dullsville but uneventful. The flight to Panama was equally uneventful, other than the fact we got a pretty darn good roast beef sandwich on the plane. I had a three-hour layover in the pleasant Panama airport before departing for Nassau, Bahamas. The excitement, such as it was, took place at Nassau Airport. I was told to pick up my luggage, even though Taca told me my luggage was heading all the way to Philadelphia. A lady in Nassau was taking luggage off the conveyer belt and rolling it out onto the floor. All the bags looked pretty much the same, and I didn't see my bag. Time was ticking and I was getting a wee bit nervous about catching my flight to Philadelphia. Finally, I heard the woman screaming my name -- she had found my bag. I went through the British/Bahama customs aisle without incident, but I wasn't allowed to head toward U.S. customs. The gentleman there told me my ticket was not valid, and that I needed to be reissued a new one. I went back to the ticket counter to get a new ticket, but the lady told me the flight to Philly was closed. After some haggling, I convinced her I had reserved a seat, so she poked around on the computer, found my name and issued me a new ticket. One of the airline workers commented to me: "At first I thought you would be OK, but now I think you're going to miss your flight." I had less than 30 minutes before takeoff, and I still had to go through U.S. customs. The line was huge, of course, and there would be no way to reach my plane on time if I waited. So I walked to the front of the line, turned to the crowd, and pleaded my case. "If I don't cut in line, I miss my flight. I miss my kids." Everyone said they understood -- "We've all been there," one lady said. Awesome. I get to the customs agent about 10 minutes before takeoff. The little interview seemed to go OK until the guy keeps asking me why I was in Panama.  I told him the truth. That's the flight Orbit lined up for me. I tried to change it but had no luck. He told me to go into a side room. I go and there's two guys there. One takes my backpack and runs it though a scanner (about the fifth time it was scanned on the trip) and asks me if I know what's in there. I tell him some books, my computer, and a crucifix I bought in Peru. The other guy, who tells me his father was born in Peru, asks me what I was doing in Peru. I told him I was helping children .... learn English. I'm resigned to missing my flight at this point. But the guys tell me to go ahead and catch my flight. Turns out they were holding the plane for me. As I ran toward gate 41C, a lady yells, "It's Lord Millman. Lord Millman coming." Lord Millman. My family and friends would have been so proud. When I entered the plane, everyone gave me the awkward eye, obviously not pleased to have their flight held up. I'm thinking, "But I'm "Lord Millman." After the little drama, my uneventful flight landed in Philly at 4:40 p.m. on Monday, Feb. 6. Back in the U.S. after seven wonderful months in Peru. It snowed Tuesday here, and it's snowing, raining and sleeting tonight (Saturday, Feb. 10). No place like home.

I am really going to miss Peru

I'm buying souvenirs for the folks back in the U.S. I'm saying goodbye to my Peruvian friends. I'm leaving the wonderful city of Arequipa and confounding country of Peru this Sunday with extremely mixed emotions. A bittersweet time, as one teacher said to me. I can't wait to see my family and friends in the U.S., of course, but this place has found its way into my heart. Cliched, but so very true. The awesome food and weather, Colca Canyon, Machu Picchu, even that damn San Camilo market. The fireworks, blaring horns, rude pedestrians, prostitutes, and stoic faces on the combis.  Juan's 5 a.m. opera, the cold showers, the battles over change in the shops and markets. All unforgettable. Of course, the highlight was the friendships I made with the teachers (a big shout-out to Jon, Vanessa, Anna and Chloe and whoever else I'm forgetting), with Juan & Co., with the shop owners and street vendors (and especially the Anticuchos Lady and her sidekick Guadalupe), and best of all, with THE STUDENTS. Some of them actually learned a little English from me along the way -- key words and phrases like: Clear as mud (Claro como baro y agua), Chuckleheads, Easy Peasy Weasy. Sometimes, I feel like I learned more Spanish from the students than they learned English from me. But I think it's fair to say we learned a lot from each other. These overworked students always came to class cheerful, if somewhat tired, and were respectful, attentive, and a joy to teach. There's Oscar, Jose, Ana Patricia, Karen, Emanuel, Diego, Rolly, Karem, Karina, Claudia, Carlos, Julio, Grace, Diana Ruth and on and on. There's so many, and all such wonderful people. And they were ALL my favorite student (an inside joke). The time flew by -- I've been here more than 6-and-a-half months -- and that's a tribute to the classes I had. Winners one and all. I also want to mention my employer, Extreme, which ignored my age, hired me, and gave me a wonderful opportunity. I learned more English grammar here in six months than I did in 30 years in the newspaper business. I have no idea what I'll do next, but I'm not really concerned. This was an experience I'll treasure forever. It'll be tough to top. One can only hope.

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.