LIMA

Tonight is my second night in Lima. Last night I arrived late and did little more than walk around my hostel, check my email, and pass out. The flight into Lima was fine, but as the plane left from Atlanta, I was filled with anxiety and was reminded of a trip I took once when I was younger, a weekend trip to Cedar Point with my parents and my friend Chad Lancaster, who I knew from school. We were both in fourth grade (I believe) at the time, and excited for the opportunity to ride the newly opened Magnum - at the time, the world´s fastest and steepest roller coaster. Anyway, as we inched closer to the top of the first peak, the gears clicking us closer and closer to the apex, Chad starting physically convulsing, shaking our safety bar and shouting with a frightening determination, ¨GET ME OFF THIS RIDE RIGHT NOW!!¨ Minutes later, we were shrieking in horror as our car shot around corners and through tunnels. Finally, it slowed and came to a rest and my father leaned forward and asked us how the ride was. Chad, who had previously risked his and my life by trying to jigger off the bar of our roller car, beamed an enormous smile and said, ¨We have to do that again right now.¨

As the plane left the tarmac, I questioned myself, thinking, ¨What the heck am I doing? Why? Will I know enough spanish to get by?¨ but already, after only the first day, I feel fantastic and am so excited for the rest of the trip. Luckily, I didn´t scream for the flight attendants to stop the plane and let me off before the plane lifted off.

Lima is an interesting city and reminds me somewhat of Instanbul. Meaning I am a pale man in the midst of a sea of brown-skinned and black-haired people, it smells bad, and there are lots of stray dogs meandering about. The people here are really friendly and just smile when I try to talk to them in my pathetic Spanish. They always try to understand me and so far I haven´t been shived for saying the wrong thing.

One thing I´ve noticed is that everyone here - and I mean everyone - speaks Spanish. I´ve even discovered that they sing their national anthem in Spanish. So, in my continuing quest to deliver freedom and democracy to these kind but misled people, I hope to teach them that only true patriots sing their national anthems in English. Can you imagine? Sadly, I believe it may be a tough row to hoe. Wish me luck.

I´m still trying to figure out how to post pictures, which may be a good thing, because all I really have to show you are images of stray dogs, old blind men, and crumbling cement colonial buildings. As my trip heads inland, I´m sure the pictures will begin to get more inspiring.

Adios amigos.