I am now in a town called Tumbes in Northern Peru. Last night I went out by myself and drank a half a liter of beer and ate chicken and french fries smothered in ketchup and mayonnaise and generally reveled in not being on a bus and being able to walk around and sleep in a bed. Thirty six hours is a long time to be in buses. But I'm in Peru now and everything is great. It's hot (see: omg) and today I'm going to the beach! I'm going to a place called Lobitos which supposedly has "long, mechanical peelers" and where hopefully I'll be able to rent a board and wetsuit for relatively cheap and have a sunset surf tonight.
The money situation is not wonderful. I have about 225 USD. Which means I've spent about 100 bucks so far. In a couple days. But I've come far, so I'm trying not to despair. At this rate I could easily make it to Chile, though I could also just as easily find myself living out of a dumpster in Lima. The good thing is I can always get a job teaching English. If you're remotely qualified and are in South America English teaching jobs are more or less a dime a dozen. They also pay about a dime per hour.
Looking back on my life in Bogota, it feels a little bit like I've left home. I feel like I'm on vacation, but in a few weeks I'll be back in Bogota teaching English to executives who care much more about texting their girlfriends than about adverbs of frecuency. South America almost feels like home. I feel like I'm in an exotic place (Northern Peru is a vast wasteland of desert and Cusqueña beer) but at the same time I feel like I'm taking a road trip through Eastern Washington or down to California. In other words, I feel like I'm just on a short trip. On a little jaunt. And not several thousand miles away from all that I love and cherish*.
Today the plan is to go to Mancora, and then Talara, and then a little town called Lobitos where there is a hostel and supposedly the perfect waves I mentioned before. Part of me wants to start another marathon trip, to go hard for another day and make it to Lima, or go hard for another two days and make it to Arequipa. Or go hard for another week, light my hair on fire, and make it to Ushuaia. But I need the ocean, and that is where I'm going. Because as the honorable Arthur C. Clarke said, "How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean."
Too true Arthur, too true.
*It occurs to me that this is one of the worst paragraphs I have ever written. So I will try to make up for it by leaving you with some quotes from Kevin, a kid sitting next to me on the bus yesterday from Guayaquil to Machala.
(to no one in particualar) "It must be hot over there." -- Kevin looking at the setting sun
"You know about the dollar?" -- Kevin asking me if I was familiar with American currency
"People speak Spanish in Bogota?" -- Kevin on the linguistic tendencies of the Colombian capital
Lobitos going off??
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