I Speak Sarcasm Fluently

Reporting live from my computer and journal, I bring you another episode of tales from South America!  These two tales both take place in Peru and I explain some ridiculous situations through my sarcastic sense of humor.  Because sarcasm is the best kind of humor (when done correctly) and I use it often to cope with reality.  You should try it too.  In the meantime enjoy my stories! 

A Postal Language Barrier

Captain's Log: June 17^th 2016

“You want to send postcards; you have to wait in this line.”  Some local Peruvian in the post office had some pity on me as I looked around like a lost puppy for about 5 minutes, as I could not – for the life of me – decipher the downtown Lima post office to send some postcards to friends and family.  It was my last day in Lima before embarking on a week long journey to Cusco, and I wasn’t sure when I would have another opportunity to send some souvenirs back to the states.  After positioning myself in line and saw that there were just 2 people in front of me I thought: Oh great I should be outta here in no time! 

...45 minutes later…My Lima host’s words were ringing in my ear: “don’t go to the post office, it is terrible!  Nobody sends mail here in Peru!”   

Let me remind you, there were only two people in front of me; 2 - not 22 people – 2 people!  If there is any blame to place, I have to place it in the hands of the person right in front me.  She had to send 10 packages – 10 damn packages!  They weren’t just simple cards in envelopes, they were packages.  Do you know how long it takes to process just one package?!  And whatever Peru’s postal system entails; it is shit – so inefficient!  The worker weighed each package at least twice, sometimes three times.  Really?!  Because weighing it just once isn’t enough?!  Don’t even get me started on each form that had to be filled out for each godforsaken package – then the information had to go into their computer system!  Really?!  Really?!  You can't just fill out one form?  And do you really have to put ALL that information (from each form) in your dinosaur old computer that likely takes twice as lone to load?!  Ten times over, for each damn package.  Meanwhile I'm resorting to crossing my arms, tapping my foot and glancing at the time every couple of minuets as my patience is running thin!  

Can you feel the frustration I felt – because that is only a fraction of it after waiting in line for 45 minutes!  Remember, I just wanted to send a handful of postcards!  This had to be some cruel and sick joke.  It’s like when you stand in line at the grocery store and you just want to pay for some eggs and milk and somebody in front of you has $200 worth of groceries – and the express line isn’t open!  Cruel, really just cruel!  After telling this story to a friend recently, and asking why I didn’t just throw the postcard idea out the window and forget about sending the postcards, I explained:  “after a certain time I was already too invested.  I couldn’t turn back at that point – I was committed!”  Call me insane I suppose. 

Then, I get to the counter!  Finally, it’s my turn!  The time I spent standing in this postal line going partially insane, I can probably assume in good faith I shed off some time in purgatory for any un- repented sins I’ll have at the end of my life.  But I digress, the wait was finally over and I was ready to hand the woman my postcards, get them stamped, pay for the suckers and get out of that hell hole! 

Oh no, my torture session wasn’t over yet!  Let more premature purgatory time continue!  “Quiero enviar estos seis tarjetas postales a los estados unidos; cuandos soles?”   In my frustrated state, I literally read these Spanish words translated from my phone asking to send postcards to the US and wondering how many soles (Peruvian currency) it would cost me.  The woman on the other end of the window (who HAD to have noticed I wasn't a confident Spanish speaker) responded with the longest, fastest running Spanish I have ever heard in my life!  This is what is sounded like: “Bbbbbberrrrrrrthhhhhhh.”  Literally and seriously she talked right over my head; we’re talking dear and headlights over my head!  This is exactly how I felt.  This is what it must feel like for a dear before they get mauled.  I gestured to her if she could type what she said in my translator app.  Her response was quick: “No!”  Well I didn’t need a translator for that! (insert an eye roll paired with a deep frustrated sigh here) 

I type something else in my app and say my pathetic, broken Spanish to her as she looks at me (eyebrow raised with her glasses on the brim of her nose) like the pathetic idiot I was at this present moment.  And…another  fast and out comes another long Spanish reply!  I’m thinking: why yes lady, by some miraculous miracle all my high school Spanish classes suddenly came rushing back to the forefront of my mind and I can now understand every word that is coming out of your mouth, AND, I can give you a perfect response!  My high school Spanish teacher Mr. Hatori would be so proud of me.  I am able to gather “seis” (six) soles, then proceed to hear “treinta y seis” (thirty-six) soles.  “What?  How do you tell me 6, then tell me 36 in the same sentence?!” 

Before any of you are quick to predict what she was saying, and judge my lack of judgement at this moment of weakness hear me out.  At this point I had spent close to an hour in line at a foreign post office; with only two people in front of me; with the postal worker literally talking right over me as if I could magically understand Spanish out of thin air.  I would have been quite content at that point if somebody had just decided to throw lighter fluid on me and flicked a lit match to simply put me outta my misery.  Sarcasm! 

Jokes aide: let’s all agree that ALL my better judgement was out the window along with my sanity!  My redhead side was out and claws out!  In the moment of complete and utter frustration I cracked – and by cracked I mean to say I started “raising my voice” rambling and crying!  Yes, this thirty year old, grown ass woman, started crying – it was out of frustration and loss of some sanity.  No judgement allowed here.  Again, jokes aside, the lady on the other end of the counter FINALLY had some pity on me as I gave up trying to use my Spanish translator app.  She grabbed another worker who was fluent in English (because you couldn't have grabbed an interpreter sooner?), and who could communicate to me that the cost was 6 soles for EACH postcard which would come out to 36 soles.  You can’t imagine how idiotic I felt at this point – in that moment I was that dumb American.  Just remember: all my patience was gone!  At the very least, I hope my narration of this story made you laugh or at least brought a smile to your face as you pictured my sorry and pathetic self!

Side note: I did have other friends and family I thought I would send postcards to THROUGHOUT my travels; but after that...  Nope!  Nobody else got a cute handwritten note from me, from the Southern Hemisphere!  Hell nah!    

The Worst/Best Surprise  

Captain's Log: June 29^th 2016

“Surprise!!!” “What?!”  As I gaze painfully at a pile of stone stairs that didn't seem to have an end.  “You have GOT to be kidding me!!  This is the surprise, Wily?!  Really?!  This is the great surprise you were talking about?! This is that great FUCKING surprise you were raving to us about?!"

The start of the hike through the Inka Trail! 

I’m fairly confident it’s a known fact I did a ton of walking and hiking while in Peru and Ecuador.  Obviously one of the longer hikes, and one that sticks out was the hike I did through part of the Inka Trail to Machu Picchu!  It goes without saying this hike and my two day trip was one of my fondest trips while on my month trip in South America!  The company I went through (Wayki Trek) was phenomenal and the eight others in my trek group and I could not have gotten along better – really!  We had a great time together.  

I must say though…after a bus pick up at 5am; taking a 2 hour bus ride from Cusco to the train station in Ollantaytambo, Peru; then to take a 2 hour train ride from Ollantaytambo to get off the train (literally) in the middle of the woods (literally, not even a train station platform) to the starting point of our 6 hour hike through the Inka trail, I'm sure anyone can understand how tired we were by a certain point.  

My Inka Trail group! 

Now as I stood 6 hours later hiking this world famous path; uphill; with a pack on my back; with steps two feet steep; all my energy (or so I thought) was expelled and just the sheer sight of these “monkey steps” looked like I might just pass out and die.  At least I would have an epic death and be thought as forever young!  As I mustered the residue of effort left inside of me, I crawled – literally crawled – up those godforsaken 3 feet steep or higher stone bricks with my sore feet and hands.  I felt like a toddler who just wanted the ball at the top of a staircase.  Only in this case my ball was whatever lay at the top of these monkey stairs that were going to kill me before I got my precious ball.  

What made this even more hysterical was how the nine of us in our group struggled and strained up to the top, while our guides almost skipped, pranced, jumped and strutted up with ease – no hands either.  Did I mention we had to craw with our hands?  We looked pitiful in comparison to our guides.  What a comical contrast!  They've been doing this a while, and I'm sure they secretly chuckle every time they watch a group struggle and strain up those ancient bricks!  

The priceless moment! 

To top off this situation, one of our comrades decided to grab a picture of this Kodak moment… from the bottom of the stairs…as we had just started up the stairs…with our butts as the focal point to this Instagram worthy moment!  Think of the hashtags: (#ButtsInTheAir #LikeYouJustDontCare).  Then, in our exhaustion and slight delusion, from the day long hike, and our shock and protest of these horrid steps, and the impeccable timing of this picture worthy moment, two of us (myself being one) cracked, and we started laughing uncontrollably!  I mean, the situation was completely absurd – it was too much to handle and contain. We just turned to two uncontrollable laughing hyenas from The Lion King, crawling (inching really) up these steps to our epic death.  Just imagine two grown women in their thirties, exhausted, with packs on their backs, laughing uncontrollably and with the energy they DIDN'T have left crawling inch by inch up these 500 year old stone stairs, as some sentimental man in our group snaps a picture of this priceless moment to sell to MasterCard for their next commercial add.  I can hear it now: Inca Trek $400; backpackers backpack: $200; food and gear for the day: $20; snap shot picture of the monkey stairs paired with exhausted grown women and their asses as the focal point of the moment: priceless!  As we gathered ourselves and our breath, and we stood up at the top of these stairs, we passed through the Sungate and laid our unbelieving eyes on Machu Picchu for the first time – a city in the clouds frozen in time.  It was indeed an incredible surprise!  Now that was priceless! 

Top of the Monkey Stairs, after passing through the Sungate; as I look at Machu Picchu for the first time. 

Hosts vs. Fellow Travelers

Allow me to level out for a moment: I really struggled to figure out how I would write about my South American travels.  I mean, I was gone for a bit more than a month.  Surely, you can imagine I have plenty – really plenty – of stories.  Yet, being a considerate writer, as I think of my readers' attention span (you’re welcome) and keeping readership, I decided I would break up my stories into several entries.  Let’s hope I stay committed to those few, and they don’t get compromised once work and grad school start up again.  My fingers are crossed and I’ll say my dutiful nightly prayers at night that I stay faithful to the pursuit of these vagabond chronicles.  This first entry I decided to tell share two stories: one from Lima, and one late (very late) night in Cusco!  Proceeding these two logs further stories will come in no particular order; like flashbacks and flash forwards if you will.  Enjoy!

"Landed and not in Kansas (well Cali) anymore"

Captain's Log:  July 12th 2016

“Barrbarra???”  In a foreign airport as I scan my surroundings, and my travelers backpack is strapped on, just after passing through customs and saying goodbye to my Peruvian airplane neighbor, in that exact moment my Lima host had somehow picked me out of a crowd of other travelers.  As I turn completely around I catch the sight of a six foot tall man –  very tall for Peruvian standards – with olive complexion and slightly shaggy dark brown hair, I say very cautiously: 

“Hi, what’s your name?” 

“It’s me, Massimo; you know from Couchsurfing."  

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.”

He continues by taking my large backpackers backpack off my back, so I just had to tend to my school bag – or my carry on if you will.  As we proceed outside it hits me that it’s late.  The time is about half past midnight and it’s chilly outside as everyone I see are sporting leather jackets or something comparable paired well with scarfs.  It is Peru's winter after all!  Massimo pays for parking at a counter stall and the first thing I notice is the Spanish that is exchanged between him and the teller.  Now I’m by no means fluent in Spanish, but I know enough to notice the difference in dialect and accent.  It almost sounded like Italian – so smooth and fluid.  We proceed out of the parking lot in his Subaru and I notice the stream of police cars parked in spaced intervals down the rather bare looking boulevard before we hit the freeway.  

“What’s with all the police cars?”  

“Well, you remember how I messaged you that the area around the airport is very dangerous?” “Yes.” 

“Well, I wasn’t kidding, it’s dangerous around the Lima airport.” 

“Huh, well thank you again for picking me up!” 

The rest of the ride to Massimo’s apartment is a bit of a blur.  After an eight and a half hour flight from LA International to the southern hemisphere I can recall how the exhaustion started to hit.  As we pulled into the garage of his complex and took the elevator to the 5^th floor before entering his apartment I kept thinking: I’m really here; I’m in Lima Peru!

Massimo getting an ice cream fix.  Notice how tall he is! 

As my first time Couchsurfing, I could not rave about Massimo more as my first international host.  He had an extra room AND an extra bathroom for me with linens and towels ready; he smuggled the coffee maker from his work office (which I unintentionally broke – I blame the complicated machine) to his place for me; gave me a key to his apartment; he went grocery shopping for me and even let me use one of his work phones to call him while I was in Lima if I needed anything (as my phone was pretty useless besides picture taking if not connected to wifi).  I even spent the next day with Massimo as he showed me around the Barraco district (arts neighborhood) and Miraflores (trend neighborhood for young professional that sits on a cliff that overlooks the Pacific Ocean).  The guy was so hospitable that he had me over for lunch with his folks, sister and twin nephews.  And in good Peruvian fashion they prepared a delicious Italian meal for my arrival that afternoon; complete with fancy cheese, artisan bread and red wine at their nicely set dining room table – not the kitchen table (where they normally break bread together).  I should probably mention Massimo’s father is Italian – which would explain his height, and the Italian meal.  

As a solo female traveler, Massimo could not have been more respectful – never showed any sign of any alternative motive.  Believe me when I say I was well aware of this risk I was running, and how much more vulnerable I was.   And believe me when I say there was a moment or more in my travels where my safety was compromised (another story) but never while with my Lima host – never!  Goes to show you that sometimes you can put your trust in strangers - maybe just sometimes.   

"International Travelers Hit the Imperial City Streets"

Captain's Log: June 25^th 2016 

...“So I’m here, but you have to come get me at the front desk; they won’t let me pass otherwise.” This was the Facebook message I sent a new British friend I met and made on the road to Cusco at his hostel.  As I’m standing at the front desk awkwardly, waiting for my new London friend (Jason) to come fetch me, and as I’m bumming off the wifi, conversation was struck towards me by another lonely sap – also waiting for a new friend to let them in.  What can I say, solo travelers make friends fast!  After 30 minutes of the waiting game and sending another persistent message to Jason (“pssst!!!” clever I know), my fellow sap and me convinced the front desk receptionist to let us upstairs to look for our point people.  We pass through an outdoor courtyard  - which I can assume during the day is quite nice to lay out in the hammocks they had spread out – up to the second floor I nearly collided with Jason as he’s walking and looking at his phone.

“Jason!”  

(Insert British accent here) “Ah, there ya are; I just got your message and was heading downstairs to grab ya.” 

As we meet, he looked like he had just woke up from a nap, as he’s standing in something that resembled pajamas, a night robe and slippers.  Gotta love the life of a traveler! As I chuckled and made fun of him a bit, he explains he’s gonna change, brush up a bit and grab his friends that I had yet to meet at this point.  My front desk sap and I proceed to the party room which was filled with other young travelers, load American music, colored strobe lights and a bar at the end of course.  After a short time Jason returns with three other men: Sven and Harun from Germany, and Tyson from Canada.  Well wasn’t I quite the lucky gal that night?!  Kidding!  Jokes aside, I did feel safe going out till God knew when with four men by my side.  To be honest, I am not much of a night owl, and this particular night, I didn’t plan to stay out late – like midnight at the latest.  So...I stayed out with these dudes till 4:30 the next morning!  When this teacher doesn’t have a bedtime and the night is good and when in Cusco – do like other travelers do!  Starting with limbo and face painting at location numero uno I met them at and moving to tres mas clubs and bars left me feeling like I was in college again; except the hilly streets of San Francisco where replaced with narrow cobble stoned streets!  

One of the last stops we spent some time at is infamous in Cusco – the Wild Rover!  Lemme tell ya – it was indeed wild; wild being the operative word in this case.   By the time we stepped on the scene there I think it was around midnight and it was already packed!  As we trailed ourselves in through the crowds it was as if I was walking into an old gentleman’s basement of a smoke cloud of weed and cigarette smoke mixed with the scent of booze!  Take a deep breath in Barbara; feel that?  Yea, I probably inhaled at least two cigarettes through second hand alone.  At least the aroma of liquor provided a nice chaser.  My senses were drenched!  We positioned ourselves close to the bar and soon and over about an hour the bar had no spare counter space as more than a dozen drunk travelers raised the roof, hands and their heals as they danced on the bar till the lights went out at 2am.  I’ll admit, I think the dense fog of smoke, alcohol aroma and heard of people packed in left me feeling: I’m too old for this.  Then after maybe 10 minutes in there with my international fellas, I thought: why the hell not?!  

“Hey, you gonna finish that,” I asked pointing to a quarter of a cigarette in Tyson’s hand.  As he looks at me surprised, he says... 

“Finish it!” 

With our glasses of poison in hand and cigarettes in the other we cheered and grooved to the beat of the music that left us unable to converse.  Lights went on at 2am, and a unison groan over swept the bar of travelers.  Moments later, as we stood outside with our hands in our pockets with the cold night air of Cusco hitting our skin that had just been inside a room filthy with body heat, not ready for the night to end yet, Jason found a promoter of another club and we stood in a circle waiting for a wrist band to our next stop for the night.  After flagging down a cab, the five of us piled into a taxi to the next stop of the night; and by piling in, I mean to say Jason, Sven, Harun and Tyson had seats while I literally lay on top of them in the back seat, trying not to get caught by any potential law enforcement.  As we climbed out of the cab at some place I can’t remember the name of (it was late and I might have been intoxicated at this point – maybe) I remember thinking how I thought I would bow out at midnight.  Ha!  The streets of Cusco were alive with young travelers who were walking in all kinds of directions towards a hand full of different music selections calling their names with their drinks waiting for them; and the night air sparkled with the old dim lights and stars that lit the cobble stone under our ready feet!  The five of us - international posy if you will – strutted our cool walk up to the bouncer and after casually flashing our wrist bands, we were waved into a base bumping packed club!  After drink number…who am I kidding it doesn’t matter; unimportant detail!  Besides I’m half Irish – I can hold my liquor thank you very much!  Jokes aside – we danced in that packed filled club drinks in hands and hands in the air till about 4 in the morning.  Well I bowed out with one of the four gents who I think thought he’d get lucky with this half Irish lady.  Out of respect for him, he did flag down a cab for me and rode with me back to my hostel to make sure I got in safe.  Gentlemanly for sure!  Sadly for him, I think he expected more – not about that kind of after party if you get my drift; because I am a lady and my mama raised me right!  So I left a sad, disappointed man outside my hostel.  But a very fun, carefree and eventful night, that is for sure!