Vivaldino
Well, I’m having a completely touristy experience in Lima today by sitting on the top of the cliff overlooking the ocean in Larco Mar (a shopping area in Miraflores) at the fancy Vivaldino. I’m about to eat ceviche, and I’m drinking a Cuzquena cerveza. “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever learn,” is the chorus of the song playing now, and it’s fitting, because I can relate at this moment. Woke up on the lonely side of bed today, feeling the weight of my solitude on this trip for some reason. It’s all good, though; I’m still smiling. We have our up days, and we have our down days. Of course, I turn to good food and beer for a little more comfort.
Just bought a pair of new glasses on Larco, as I lost my others right before my trip down south. They only cost ~$94 here, as compared to the $300 in the US, with the eye exam and all. Not bad. I decided to use my credit card a little more to a get a fancy snack. I really could do this for the rest of my life. Too bad we have to work and earn money. Vivaldino is upper class…the ceviche is 30 soles and the beer is probably 10. The ceviche is fantastic, fish and octopus, onions, lime juice, a hint of ahi, choclo and sweet potato accompaniment–exactly what I was looking for.
I have been very pensive for the last handful of days or so. Culture shock in varying degrees has finally sunk in, especiallly after having my camera stolen. Needless to say, I’ve learned a great big huge lesson: I need to practice using my observations skills. They are crap and must be improved. The fact that someone else was a dick and took my camera is really my opportunity to see how I am in this world. My idealism is great–couldn’t lose it if I tried. But a friend recently said that to change the world I have to first change myself, which, for me, means tempering my idealism by peppering it with more common sense. I thought I had a great deal of common sense, but you should never be too cocky. And my thirst for trusting other people and only wanting to see the best in them definitely made me cocky.
Perhaps I was feeling a bit superior back in my annoying hostel. Perhaps I was the ugly American, at least internally and hopefully not externally–thinking I was so great with my Spanish skills and not wanting to deal with English-only speaking tourists. Hubris got to me and I was blinded by it? Chewed off my own foot? I’m reaching for some mythological analogy for my loss here that I can’t seem to find. These recent events and my current self analysis make me want to either slow down completely or self-destructively indulge. Finding the in-between in these last few weeks in Peru is my latest goal. I am going to the northern beach town of Peru called Mancora on Thursday. I hope that two weeks of doing nothing–no touring, no museums, just sun, maybe some surfing, and relaxing–will help me reflect on all that has happened in these last two months or so and will help me understand myself and the world a bit better.
