In Lima, we couldn't walk more than a few blocks without getting whistled or honked at. It's understandable why. We were so obviously "outsiders" - plus, my friends are hot, of course.
But always feeling like "the other" - that's the part that can be a drag about traveling. Constantly having a sign on your back that says "I'm a tourist, please try to sell me something." It can be exhausting to not fit in.
I knew about machismo, but I didn't begin to understand it until I saw a few men halfheartedly whistle at us, almost out of a sense of duty. But the shoes I wore one day really blew their minds.
I saw a few people looking at them, scratching their heads, like "What does that girl have on her feet?" Guess the gladiator sandal trend hasn't hit Peru yet.
Back in America last week, I made the mistake of wearing a dress and riding my bike to work. A critical mistake. I wanted to be like the European girls who wear skirts and ride their bikes in Amsterdam, but it didn't turn out like that. Instead my dress kept blowing up as I sped down a hill. Here I was, probably flashing everyone on Massachusetts Avenue, and nary a whistle. "What a great country!" I thought. But perhaps men in the U.S.A. are more discriminating in their cat-calling?
OK, I told you about getting whistled at, now here are the random pictures I also promised:
Something really went wrong in the translation of this menu. Needless to say, I didn't order the "Canibal Pizza."
I would like to order a round of "Sex in My House" cocktails.
These are the directions to use the shower in one of the hostels. So many steps! I think you had to have gone to MIT to properly operate this shower. "In the direction of time" - which direction is that?! Time goes forward, right? Wait, carry the one, divided by the remainder...
I managed to turn the shower on and was proud of myself, but as soon as I hopped in, the water was cold and there was a large slug on the tile wall. One step forward, one step in the direction of time.
This was another three-star hostel. A piece of cardboard from a television box does not a door make. I never considered when we booked the place that we should ask, "And does the room have a fully functioning door?"
Someone in this Cusco internet cafe is a champ with a white out pen.
Aww, Kate Moss, you made it to Lima!
Banksy made it to Cusco as well.
The mannequins in Lima weren't terribly attractive.
But children in a foreign country are always cuter, no?
Here I am, frolicking with pigeons in the square outside San Francisco cathedral in Lima.
Lisa and Caroline frolicking at the Moray ruins. We did a lot of frolicking this trip.
Dressed in the appropriate colors, Debie and I reenacted this poster in Aguas Calientes.
"Hey, I know you are supposed to be stopping a riot at the moment, but could I trouble you for a quick picture?"
So many stray dogs in Peru, and stray purebred dogs at that, which is a phenomena that I don't understand. Very odd. In America these dogs would cost $1000 each, and here they are eating out of the trash. A Dalmatian in Moray, and tons of Shar Peis for some reason. That is the worst dog to be a stray, they are so high-maintenance with their skin issues. Ah, so sad, I can't talk about it.
Me at the gardens of Coricancha in Cusco. This is the best picture of me of the trip, because it's the only one where you can't see the outline of the travel wallet I wore under my shirt. So dorky. I really dug the travel wallet though - no purse, hands-free! I think I'm going to wear it all the time.
I had to pay these ladies a few sols to take their picture at Pisac Market - but we never discussed Internet publishing rights, so there!
Lots of spray-painted rock hearts at the beach in Miraflores in Lima. How romantical.
Debie just sent me an article about coca cultivation making a comeback in Peru, which could overtake Columbia as the world's largest cocaine exporter. I brought some coca candy back to the States. It made it through Customs, but then disappeared from my desk last week. Someone must have been looking for a fix.