Another airline I've never heard of - LATAM - kindly took me all the way to... Peru! It was a huge aeroplane, much bigger than the Jet Who planes that ushered me to the US of A. It was a surreal overnight flight where I was sandwiched between a rather-too-right-leaning lady from I'm not quite sure where, and a shy Peruvian woman who smiled at me when she absolutely had to, like when she'd accidentally scooped up my seatbelt instead of hers.
I hadn't heard back from the place where I am staying about the airport transfer I'd attempted to book; 19-year-old me would have happily spent hours haggling with cab drivers to get to downtown Lima and beyond; in nearly twenty years since my first forays into solo international travel, I have learnt a lot - sorting one's airport transfer is one of the top things to sort and I was reassured when on logging into the WiFi in the immigration queue at Lima Airport, there was an e-mail confirming that my airport transfer was booked. Honestly, the world has changed beyond recognition in those twenty years - we haven't always had the world in our pocket, as I frequently tell classrooms of teenagers who look at me as though I'm making it all up.
I fell into conversation with a new friend called Mary - not Mary the ice-cube fairy, a different Mary, an American in Peru for her husband's nephew's wedding. She asked me if I was worried about the riots and protests in Lima. The what? Oh gosh, imagine if I read ahead, I'd be dangerous. This trip, I didn't even manage to download a Lonely Planet chapter about Peru, which is unlike me, so I certainly hadn't got as far as current events. I only booked the place I'm staying to generate a donation on easyfundraising.
A kindly lady took my photo at immigration - I got to remove both of my masks (mandatory on LATAM flights unless you have a really fancy one) - including an alpaca mask my mother gave me, which seemed very appropriate for this trip, although the last time I met an alpaca was in Gillingham - and my glasses, so I will be barely recognisable. I noticed afterwards that she seems to have neglected to stamp my passport, so I am technically not here at all. Let's hope this isn't awkward when I come to leave. She definitely took a photo and she definitely worked for Peruvian immigration, as far as I could tell - here's hoping, or I'll be calling my new friend Mary. Or Aunt Lucy - she lives in darkest Peru.
After neither of my cash cards would yield any local currency (called soles), I decided on balance to go through and locate my taxi driver. It's always quite something to see my name on a large placard - it's at moments like these that any combination of things which resemble my name are fine - I won't fuss about superfluous hyphens, word order, or spelling - behold, 'Hellen Beecher' has made it to Peru.
The journey in the cab was long and slow, but I like journeys - 'when you rush so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there' - I didn't write that line, it's from an epic poem called Slow Dance, which someone else wrote.
Awkwardly, the conversation was limited as my Spanish is a bit limited. I can do the most important things, such as ordering beer and asking where the toilets are. I'm not proud of this. My French is reasonable, but that is no help at all here.
The driver wasn't too happy about being paid in dollars, I understood that much. Possibly for this reason, he deposited me at the wrong youth hostel. Fortunately, the right one was just around the corner. I'm staying in Miraflores, a modern suburb of Lima which as a certain cosmopolitan feel to it - pavement cafes, asphalted playparks, bicycles for hire and all sorts of quirky shops and restaurants.
I checked into my room which overlooks the park which is full of wandering Peruvians, some walking their dogs, others chatting with friends; hapless tourists with their abundant and pointless travel gadgets - I'm a traveller, not a tourist, just saying - and salespeople plying their trades, mainly knitted flowers and stone necklaces. Gone are the days of a shared dorm and bathroom - these days I book my own room with a lockable door and everything.
Well, una cerveza por favore (I got to use one of my two top phrases) has come to an end, so methinks it's time to go and locate some dinner, then make a gentle plan for tomorrow. Thanks for sharing this journey with me.
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