Atardecer (Setting Sun)

OOOHHHHH, but Wait! Not yet.This trip is not over yet.

Good Day All.

I am in Lima at the moment and I have been feeling a strange mix of things. Nostalgia, Depression, Joy, wanting to be home already, not wanting to leave....

So, I hope some congruity of thought expresses itself in this here blog.

And we are off.

The beggining of this blog entry recounts the end of my time in Pisco. It occurs to me now that Pisco is the site of Pisco Sin Fronteras, the follow up to Burners without Borders. B w/out B is the organization that I was thinking about working with until I realized that further construction was the very last thing I should be doing with my time here. They are, however doing a big clean up and rebuilding job as is everybody in Pisco, which was all jacked up in the earthquake in (i think!) 2004. You can still see it everywhere there. Areas of town are simply ruble and everywhere are cracks. But they live on.

My time in Peru has had very very little to do with work. This has been faulous as one could assume. I was planning on teaching enlish though and it was a bit a transition to go from that plan to what I have done. What I have done a crapload of is personal work. And personal enjoyment. I am blessed that the two have been one in the same in many respects. This has been one hell of a trip.

I did however do Something! in the way of work. I straight up worked!
I`ll tell you about it.

My last night in Pisco I went on a midnight bike ride after that days several hours on the internet. Hoping to pump some blood through my then flattened ass and catch some fresh night air. This I did. I must say I am blessed too for not getting my ass mugged. This night was one more of so many I have spent in places that look pretty damned "ghetto". (The quotes are not to be PC but instead to show the relativity of the term. ) I found some high ground in a field and gazed at the concrete and steel that is Pisco. There is a rawness to it all, every city I`ve seen down here, but Pisco embobied it more so that night. Rebar, twisted and thin, creeping out of the 2nd and 3rd story pillars that guard every roof top around. Sometimes with protective empty bottles atop, never with those little orange mushroom guards we use in the States. Piles of bricks and rubble wherever they have not yet been removed. Piles that have not yet made it to the BIG pile outside town. The one that started before the earthquake. Dogs doin`there thing in the night, chasing me again, and barking at random. I actually had to kick one in the face finally. I know your thinking "don`t hurt the doggie!" but its not like that. Survival and instict are real factors when you are on there turf, which includes roving sectors of the night itself. In anycase I only grazed over its head and snout with my Chaco-Clad foot. It digressed though and I don`t have rabies.

On my way home I was paced up an avenue by the grunt and blinding light of an earth mover. My thought was something like, "that is odd" given that it was about 11:15 at night and we were in a residential. I quickly came upon the action and saw a familiar sight. Rocks! Being moved!

Heeyyy! After a quick jaunt to my room for boots and pants, I went to work. I worked long and hard into the night, for about 7 minutes total. The rest of the time was spent talking with the crew. Actually only two of the 5 of them were doing anything at all and this was only during the intervals where the bulldozer was being loaded. It then had to drive far away and we had to sit again. It felt good though. A reminder of what I will be doing in a month.

During the conversation the guy I was talking to asked me, "so what do you make?" I told him, which is $18/hour. He told me they make about 20 dolars per day, $2 dollars an hour. Wow. That was an awkward silence. I am glad they stuck around a moment for me to dig up my camera (I had buried it for safety) and do the tourist thing with them. I gave the main guy I had been talking to the face mask I have been carrying around for 3 months and had then used for 7 minutes, and that was that.

What happens next in my little Saga is the silence. I spent the following day finding the spot I could do it and settled upon a tiny hill and outcropping in the National Park of Parakas. Camping was no issue, because its Peru, and I made my little home on the ocean side of the rock. Nothing around me.

It was a silence and this provokes me not to talk a lot about it. I will though. (heh heh heh).

There are a few things that did come to me while under this paricular influence. The most pressing of them was the benifite of just not talking. I am a person for whom this is somewhat of a new idea. I don`t talk all the time but I am engaged a lot of the time. Beat-boxing is a major pull, talking as well, singing and also just being in a headspace in which I am ready to respond if someone engages me. It was really interesting to see and feel the difference, if it is known to myself and others that I won`t be responding with my voice. I was surrounded at meal times by the staff of the mostly empty restaurant that fed me and ripped me off during my time there. They were cool. I wonder if they had a bet going though cuz they would try, to an obvious degree, to engage me in conversation.

Other thoughts of occurance were metaphores of optional meaning. Such as the density of matter as represented by the Earth, Water and Sky. Further, the scars they gave and give to one another constantly, yet each received and healed from differently. The cliffs on the sea stand with machismo, stoicaly ignoring their constant decay at the jaws of the ocean. In turn, the ocean`s shore-side jaws are in a never-ever-ending tear of flesh as marked by the whites of the waves as they break, in each ones final assault. A similar struggle takes place within the wind above it all. An everlasting turmoil of molecules as they fray and blend with the spray of the water. Water molecules themselves torn from the home they once knew and transmutating, again, into another form of the grand cycle which gives the land its fertility. "Sex is violence" - Perry Ferrel.
The wind is more subtle though, if only through its invisability.

There existed a playground of meaning in these physical forces that I bore a quite witness too. I wanted to see the weather change but, it didn`t.

The second day I watched and then laid down next to a pelican that I am pretty sure was dying. I had a similar experience with a spider just before I left Seattle. That was really sad for me. In contrast, my time with the Pelican was peaceful and philosophical. I`d like to think that this is a reflection of my own inner strength and internal sense of peace. Such proclemations cannot be made from inside bubbles though. I will get to see where I am at through the future.

Stuff like this is what went on. A lot of sitting and looking, inside and out. A lot of sleeping and then a lot of waking hours, in the still of the night.

There were some problems like constant diariah, the cruel sun, loss of sunscreen, and incredibly ample amounts of shit from humans and birds that seemed to be everywhere at all times. On the whole though, it was a pleasent exerience. I decided however, to leave it early. Something I am not newly aware of but I am of recently realizing the strength of, is my orientation not to do things that seem to be of only my own isolated intention. Especially my disinclination to do "spiritual" things that I don`t yet feel called by the universe to do. I am relatively sure there will be other times in my life when I am called to do a silence and I will do them then. Right now was more a product of a long standing personal interest than a "call". I want to be clear that I am not against intention. However, the relationship between my personal intention and the intention of the universe with regards to me, is of a complex nature and there is much to be discovered yet.

Ami´s words (borrowed from a source I don`t know and uttered in drunken inspiration on a night so long ago) come to me: "God, make me virtuous... but not yet!"

So, although I had planned 5 days, half way through the third, I was done. And I set forth to Lima. The city of my birth (in my Peru life.)

One thing I noticed perty quick here is that Lima is fucking huge! It is crazy. At this exact moment its thrashing, aggresive, and agitated spirit is all to tangeble to me in air of this internet cafè. None of the computers have headphones and all have speakers. So the air is filled with the sound of Grand Theft Auto (played by a 6 year old), some course hip-hop, some course cumbia, a few forms of american pop music, many other grading sounds and the smell of poop coming from the guy next to me (the 28 year old manager of the cafè). Its a fray!!!!! It is definately fucking with my head right now. I am suseptable though right now because I have been enjoying that fray for the last fews days, and thusly I have been bathng in its frantic energy

When I got here I found some Pizza Hut (yum! you know it tastes exactly the same here inspite of different wheat, different cows, etc. Damn. Chemicals.) and a cheap hostal. (My 20 sole a night room even comes with its own soap, roll of TP and a towel! Dang guy.) The following day I busted out on my bike. I truely enjoy riding in traffic. This is far more the case here than in the US, despite the poisonous vapors which are everywhere. This is because of the ride catching thing. Check this out.

Returning from the beach yesterday I was coming off the freeway and re-entering city streets. In catching buses and weaving through traffic I almost hit a fucking cop! Like not his car or motorcycle, his body, as it was standing in the street directing traffic. Ya know what happened?, he didn`t bust me, he didn`t even get mad at me, he did a little dance of mock fear as skid around him! Can you believe that shit!!! Never, ever would I expect a cop engaged in duty to not only joke with my law-breaking ass, but act out that joke in a little dance! WTF. There is some shit in life I can only get in Latin America. Maybe its is like this everywhere but the states. Maybe it is like this everywhere where it is generaly excepted that all people around are trying to live their life and we need`nt bother with rules which only slow things down. Freedom to hurt yourself. I swear to God it is like a giant kitchen, "I got needs, you got needs. Lets just make it happen, and nobody gets hurt." I love the flow. Thank God for Latin America. Let Freedom Ring.

It has been great here in Lima. I have really been enjoying screaming through the streets on my bike, catching anything I feel like (I keep my own ethics surrounding this), listening to my Ipod (Yesterday morning was Tool, Lateralus. An amazing album.) I realized that if I am listening to music, then I don`t hear the constant "Meestair!" and "Greengoh!" etc. that otherwise follows me everywhere. I found this lady with Papas Rellenos for 1 sole, and at this point I have eaten, lets see... 9, in the last 2 days. Also, I finally found my board and wave!

I went to the beach yesterday after a morning of local investigations. It is a long way there and the most direct route is the Freeway, so I took that. (Amazingly it was down hill in both directions. I think I must have entered it at the Zennith on my way toward the beach and the city, and just not known where I was. Lucky me though.) I actually did get told to get off the freeway by a traffic cop once, and I did. I discovered the alternative though was crossing the huge streets that were every mile or so and complete with a fence at the median. Not a good use of my time.

I got to Miraflores and for the first time recognized an area of the city from 2 months ago. That was the first time, this time around, so it had really been feeling like a different and new place. As soon as I arrived I came upon a troop of private school kids (?) that were about to experience 2 hours of surf camp. I asked for and was allowed to rent a board and a wet suit for $15 dollars (oh dollars all of a sudden eh?). Still a good deal for the context. I reacted to this though because a few hours earlierI gave hella attitude to, and left the people, running the bike repair store I was trying t buy parts at. I did this the instant they gave me a price in dollars. "Why are you talking about dollars we are in Lima. Perù. We use soles here, dude." They knew they had failed in scamming me and laughed as I exited the store.

To convey my mastery of surfing maybe I should say the board and wave found me, and then proceeded to kick my ass. That is about what happened. I think surfing will have to be a Hawaii thing, if I ever live in Hawaii. The NW coast is just to cold and far away and these little try-outs I do every once in a while in Latin America are too far-and-few-between to be anything more than a beat down everytime I go out. Oh well, so much for my Point Break inspired dreams (as for now.) I did get up a whole 4 times but the way I felt during and afterward was too uneven of a ratio of pleasure to pain. Hopefully I can get to the mountain this season.

After returning my gear I limped down the beach and sat to watch some really great boogie boarding. A sport at which I am way more capable. Hopefully I can get out tommorow before my flight to Iquitos. I also watched a cute Peruvian couple catch sand crabs that they later told me were to fry and eat, "like conchitas".

Damn.

This shot is of a broken down staircase that I dragged my bike up to the top of. The cliffs it surmounts line the edge of Lima and are probably 150 feet tall.

I am toward end of this entry but I first want to offer a continuing episode of Kevin`s food and culture report.

First culture.

I could have put this in the previous blog but that would have been a fast turn around from reality to report. Two groups became immidiately obvious to me when I hit Pisco: Black People and Gay men. Really, all of a sudden they are both everywhere. Black people not so much here in Lima but gay men yes. I wonder what the deal is. My first thought is that both oppresed groups are subject to a little less of it here on the coast. I think this may be more true for the gay populace though and that the locality of African Latin Americans (he, ), has more to do with history. If I rememer correctly, Tupac Amaru is the name of the guy who lead a succesful slave ship rebellion and a group of Africans who escaped slavery to create a small but sustained society in Latin America. I thought that happened on the East Coast of Brazil, but there are areas and towns named after him here in Peru. I am pretty sure that it is from him or maybe his revolutionary son (?) that Tupac Shakur took his stage name.

Interesting.

Like I said before Life in Lima is a Push or a grind. It feels to me like NY or Mexcico City but I have only visited those places and Lima is much smaller. I think I am feeling the contrast between here and the small mountain towns I am used to. Even Cuzco has way less of a "don`t-stop-get-it-get-it" vibe to it.

Food.

This is some great stuff. Yes, soda it is. But, it is soda made from malted barley. It is more this than sugar, and on the front it says its refreshing AND Nutrative. Really good stuff if you like the taste of malted barley, which I do. The wine I made a while back, which some of you have tried, is made from malted barley. It uses orange juice and peels and spices and stuff though. A very different flavor. This stuff is thick with flavor, know what I`m sayin`?

This stuff is the shit! for real. Very simple. Take a Thai Iced tea and make it ice cream. Oh damn. It is actually vanilla and Lucuma, a southern fruit. It tastes just like Thai Iced Tea though. Man. Nuff` said.

OK,

My time in Peru is closing. I head to Iquitos tommorow and I don`t know If I will write much beyond this entry. I may write about the jungle a bit but there are some things I keep private, believe it or not. I may also may write entries about my life in my normal habitat but this remains to be seen.

I am feeling a mix of things these days. Right now I feel hella hungry and a bit vexed by the hours in this cafè. Explaining some of my reality here in this this blog has felt at times a bit like I am trying too hard or somthing. It is just the pace of the last fewdays and the hieghtend sense of the end approaching soon. It creates a certain franticness of emotion, gliding between different states. I am glad to be heading to the jungle. Though I do wish I was going there by boat. The free plane ride (cheaper to buy a round trip ticket) and pure speed of flight was too attractive though. Especially given the average rainfall in Iquitos.

I imagine I will write a few words my last day in Peru. On second thought, I will probably be on the beach enjoying the last of it. Maybe this time around I will go to the beach with the L.A. peeps. That would be a nice reentry. Speaking of L.A., pick me up at the airport anyone? I will try my damnedest to have a papa relleno for you. If I can pass that glory through customs.

See yall on the flip side.

Love, K