Unlike Meet the Parents/Fockers, the sequel of Meet the Cuevas in San Marcos, Cajamarca, Peru was actually better than the first one that was released about a year and a half ago. It was certainly different than the first trip, especially considering the fact that I was picked up by Erika's dad and spent the first night at Erika's aunt's house without her around. And of course, no one speaks English so it was certainly a big challenge for me to communicate. But the challenge was met and I was dominate with my Spanglish, dropping some jokes and getting some laughs out of everyone. It was challenging, but I proved again that when Erika isn't around to translate, I can drop it like it's hot!
Among some new bad words, one thing that I did learn or was reminded of was the fact that Inca Kola, a staple of every meal in Peru, contains caffeine. To demonstrate my reaction to caffeine, on the rare days that I am sleep walking to work and cannot wake up, I put literally 1.45 inches of coffee in a cup and I'm wired for hours. So drinking ample amounts of Inca Kola at about 11:00pm and *not* following it up with equal parts of beer or liquor of some kind (which I was actually hoping for), means only one thing: insomnia. The Inca Kola, plus stressing about waking up late for our 5:00am flight, plus airplanes flying about 50 feet over the house as they come in to land (*much* louder than I remember at our house when the military planes would be pulling into Moffet), plus the usual orchestra of animals at night leads me and a rock-hard, 25" high pillow that was putting my spinal chord at risk of snapping led to zero sleep at night. Zero! That's the way to start a trip after flying all day and having a full half day more of travelling ahead of me!
So, with the trip off to a bad start, I headed to the airport the next morning with Pancrita (her dad's nickname that nobody can explain the meaning of), and had a pretty uneventful flight to Cajamarca. We took the taxi to the bus depot (garage) and were met there by Erika and her Mom, who woke up at 3:00am to take the bus to Cajamarca and meet us. Now that's some dedication! I was a walking zombie however and was just looking forward to getting on the bus and passing out. However, these buses are built for the little Peruvians, not strapping white-folk like me. Thing of those 1980s Toyota minivans (narrow, tall), expand the size by 50%, add about 35 seats, and you've got the Peruvian Combi. The seats are not plus leather, but basically springs covered by vinyl and 10" of leg room. Somehow, the Peruvians are soldiers and have no problem with these things, and in my past life I would relish the authenticity of such means of travel. But, I'm getting old and not having any leg room isn't cool, so I told Erika this is the *last* time I'm taking a Combi on a this two hour road-trip to San Marcos.
Well, once I made it to San Marcos, I was golden, and the few days I spent there were splendid and I was spoiled to life's full-extent. Does Justin want some breakfast? Yes please. Does Justin want some Ecco to drink? Yes please. Does Justin want to drink some beer with the men of the house, sharing a pixie cup? Yes please. Does Justin want some spicy, fried testicles from the sheep that was just butchered out back? Why not. Does Justin want to eat some Cuy (Guinea Pig)? Ummm, okay it's already spread-eagle and beheaded on my plate, so I guess so. Does Justin want some home-brewed 50-proof moonshine that can take paint off walls and that's sold in reused Sprite bottles or some chicha (a warm, frothy, full textured liquor made from fermented corn)? I think I'll stick with the beer and sheep testicles, thanks though!
Being spoiled doesn't come cheap or easy in these parts and life isn't easy, though. These people are hard-working honest folk. I was once asked, "what do they do for a living?", to which I responded, "They just live". The women spend the day butchering the guinea pigs, free-range hens, or whatever other animal is going to be eaten, they collect peppers that are rampantly growing above the "shower", they collect herbs that are growing in between the "choclo" (Peruvian corn) stalks to spice Caldo Verde (a rich, green soup), etc. They take the animals (goats, pigs, sheeps, etc) out to mow down the brush growing everywhere on the farm. And, I had the wonderful opportunity to do some manual labor of my own along with Erika and her dad by knocking down the ripe "talla" off the tree and collecting the red pea-like-pods off the ground, which is painstaking on the back, knees, etc. The talla is collected and sold to collection agents that use the inside of the pods for making oil and red make-up.
Being Native American, I've long held the belief that I am immune to poison oak (which I have never contracted). But it doesn't start with poison oak; I am also immune to mosquitoes! People are always getting bit by mosquitoes and other small bugs and I never get bit. Despite my insistence on this FACT, Erika said I should put some repellent on because the mosquitoes were ravenous for human blood and I should put some jeans on. But it was way too hot to do manual labor in jeans, and I'm immune, right?
Soooo, it turns out I'm not immune. My upper body wasn't touched (except for some cyst-sized bites on various fingers - how the hell did they bite me without me seeing?). But my legs were dominated by the bastards. I counted 59 bites on my legs alone. Holy Jesus (Hey-Sus). I really don't think they were mosquitoes, cuz I didn't see any even touching me, but the swollen welts and gaping wounds on my legs told a different story. Maybe it was some other exotic bug that my people never built up a resistance to, unlike the Incas (especially since they didn't itch at all). All I know is that I'll be using more caladryl than soap for the next few days!
The main event for the trip was me becoming The Godfather. Our god-child Jimena, who is an adorable seven year-old with beautiful eyes (she'll be stunning some day I think) had her baptism on Saturday morning. Those of you in attendance at my wedding know how my Spanish goes in front of the priest. Well, this was even worse. I was mis-informed on what I was going to be saying to the priest, but likely I didn't have a microphone thrust down my throat, so I just nodded, mumbled, and avoided the glaring eyes of the priest as we went through the quick ceremony. Not my fault! Like I said, I was misinformed by everybody.
Unlike the short ceremony, the part was OFF. THE. HOOK. I lasted a few hours before I passed out in my room, but this party when twelve full hours and there was definitely high amounts of intoxication involved. These guys can certainly DRINK - and DANCE! I got dragged out quite a bit by my "comadre" (Jimena's mom), much to my embarrassment, but I had some fun. The family was trying to put me on a pedastool for travelling so far, but that was definitely uncomfortable and I just wanted to be treated like everyone else. I didn't need a metal fork to eat my sheep testicles. I didn't need a chair to put my plate of butterflied guinea pig on. I just wanted to blend in with everyone else, though physically that was clearly impossible!
At the end of the night, after my little napster, I re-joined the party and before I knew it it was mid-night and that means - Erika's birthday! So the party was definitely not done and in walked three really drunk mariachis - Cajamarca style, wearing the traditional Cajamarca sombreros and bellowing out mariachi songs. It was hilarious because they were so drunk and singing along with each other along with a guitar. They also lit twenty-four massive fireworks (one for each year of Erika's life ;o) that boomed outside, it was great! Everyone likes mariachis, even in Peru!
Despite my ear being attacked by a bastard of a mosquito and getting zero sleep again on the last night (true to tradition), the trip was really a good time. Unlike in Hollywood, the sequel was most definitely better than the prequel!
J. Riley, and the Combi ride on the way back to the airport? We took a taxi this time. The best $25 I spent in my life :o).
Showing posts with label Peru. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peru. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Si Se Puede! Change We Can Believe In!
I'm a changed man. Erika left me on Saturday morning for a multitude of reasons. Most of them are my fault, but one of them is because we are going to be god-parents in a few weeks and I cracked under the pressure, letting her fly down to Peru on her wonderful $200 round-trip ticket and leaving me all by my lonesome. Fear not, however, because I am going to be joining her down there on my $200 round-trip ticket in a week or so. I'm looking forward to the party, the culture, the food, and the vacation! I've got the speech that she wrote in front of me and hopefully I will be able to memorize it before the trip, though I'm sure I'll be reciting it after a few rounds of the shared pixie cup of beer so I have little faith that I'll be able to remember it without my cheat sheet.
But, really, I'm a changed man! I've decided that I need to prioritize some things in my life, including my focus on learning better Spanish. I've started up on my Pimsleur Spanish CDs again - which are amazing, by the way. Sucky commute got you singing the blues? Change the channel and pop these guys in your car's CD player and you'll be golden. I used to listen to one lesson on the way to work and then listen to it again on the way home just to make sure it sinks in. I actually discovered that it's not too difficult to get going with because most of the terms you first learn are pretty well known. OK, enough advertising for CD's that I can provide to anybody free of charge. To take my lessons a step further, I attended a free Spanish Conversation Group down at the NY Public Library last night. I was really nervous, thinking about a giant room full of people, most of whom were probably more or less fluent that just wanted to practice a little. I was surprised to find that there were only about seven people in the group and that I wasn't half bad compared to them. It was a nice confidence booster.
Seriously though, I'm a changed man! I bought some new running shoes recently and after a day of lonesome reflection after dropping Erika off at the airport, I decided that I'm going to train for a triathalon. It's more like a try-athalon, though. And it will be like an eXtreme sports version of it. I've already got the spin classes on my regular schedule and on Sunday I decided to hit the streets with my new shoes and go explore the rustic, polluted, and industrial parts of Astoria along the power plants and the East River with a 3.5K jog. I didn't do too bad, though my legs are killing me to this day and my whole body is sore from my legs all the way up to my head with some screaming neck muscles. I plan on incorporating more jogs into my schedule and have even considered jogging home from work, which would only be about a 30 minute job for me.
I'm most excited about the last exercise that completes my triathalon training. I've been tossing around the idea of getting a bike to ride to work, except that I have no place to put it and arriving at work as a sweaty mess just doesn't fit my image - though I wouldn't be totally out of place among the nerds at work.
But! I have rollerblades at home still! I haven't used these things since I moved from Manhattan, but couldn't just toss them since they are a decent enough pair with newish wheels. I decided that on Monday, I would jam the blades into my backpack and take them to work with me and see if I could find a decent route home with them on.
First of all, have you ever changed at work? I dunno about you, but I have a major complex when it comes to changing at work. Maybe it violates the separation of work and personal life that I strive to maintain on a daily basis. I feel almost naked when I come out of the bathroom with shorts and a t-shirt on. I've got to work on that some more and learn to lift the shoulders up (and suck the belly in :o/) and try to hide the pit stains on my grungy undershirts while I try to make a quick getaway.
In any case, I made it to the street where I mounted my twin pair of horses onto my feet. I realized that I left my insoles at home, which meant that my balance would be all messed up. Or maybe I'm just using that as an excuse for why I was flailing all over the first couple of streets with cars honking behind me. Come on, it's been three years, gimmeabreak. Plus, the only place I used to roll in the city were in Central Park with it's meticulously maintained outer-rim road that provided me with lots of room to fly and launch off jumps.
Well, Queens is no Central Park, that's for sure. True to it's industrial image, the streets are lined with gravel, the decrepit sidewalks are more or less poorly maintained, there are no street sweepers off the major routes, and the roads are lined with chop shops and auto mechanics that love to drip oil all over the place, making me look like a car in that old video game that hits the oil slicks. Plus, the road along the water, with surprisingly clearly marked bike routes, were pitted, uneven, and full of little rocks that tore up my virgin wheels. It was great! This route is clearly going to be challenging to master, but this spring I am going to have a go at it and see if I can manage to survive.
After blading home yesterday, I decided that my suffering legs needed a stretch so I did a little jog around the hood and through the lovely sculpture park, where people like to unleash their dogs and minks. Wait, WTF? Somebody let their mink/weasel thing off the leash and it was just hopping alongside them in the park. That was the weirded thing that I've seen since I saw somebody taking their monkey for a walk in SoHo one time. At least with a pet mink you can skin it and make a nice neck lining for your coat....
Easter was pretty depressing around here, what with Liverpool failing to qualify for next year's Champion's League, Erika having a family reunion and making chicharron with a whole pig at home with people that traveled 16 hours on a Peruvian bus just for lunch, my family having a family reunion in California with various liquor concoctions and Brie undoubtedly getting drunk, and with me reading a book about a girl who's jailed and tortured in Iran as a political prisoner. At least the weather was brilliant! What a happy day :o) !!
J. Riley, remind me to bring my bike helmet back with me from California. I'd rather prevent my head from meeting the gravel on these dangerous commutes home!
But, really, I'm a changed man! I've decided that I need to prioritize some things in my life, including my focus on learning better Spanish. I've started up on my Pimsleur Spanish CDs again - which are amazing, by the way. Sucky commute got you singing the blues? Change the channel and pop these guys in your car's CD player and you'll be golden. I used to listen to one lesson on the way to work and then listen to it again on the way home just to make sure it sinks in. I actually discovered that it's not too difficult to get going with because most of the terms you first learn are pretty well known. OK, enough advertising for CD's that I can provide to anybody free of charge. To take my lessons a step further, I attended a free Spanish Conversation Group down at the NY Public Library last night. I was really nervous, thinking about a giant room full of people, most of whom were probably more or less fluent that just wanted to practice a little. I was surprised to find that there were only about seven people in the group and that I wasn't half bad compared to them. It was a nice confidence booster.
Seriously though, I'm a changed man! I bought some new running shoes recently and after a day of lonesome reflection after dropping Erika off at the airport, I decided that I'm going to train for a triathalon. It's more like a try-athalon, though. And it will be like an eXtreme sports version of it. I've already got the spin classes on my regular schedule and on Sunday I decided to hit the streets with my new shoes and go explore the rustic, polluted, and industrial parts of Astoria along the power plants and the East River with a 3.5K jog. I didn't do too bad, though my legs are killing me to this day and my whole body is sore from my legs all the way up to my head with some screaming neck muscles. I plan on incorporating more jogs into my schedule and have even considered jogging home from work, which would only be about a 30 minute job for me.
I'm most excited about the last exercise that completes my triathalon training. I've been tossing around the idea of getting a bike to ride to work, except that I have no place to put it and arriving at work as a sweaty mess just doesn't fit my image - though I wouldn't be totally out of place among the nerds at work.
But! I have rollerblades at home still! I haven't used these things since I moved from Manhattan, but couldn't just toss them since they are a decent enough pair with newish wheels. I decided that on Monday, I would jam the blades into my backpack and take them to work with me and see if I could find a decent route home with them on.
First of all, have you ever changed at work? I dunno about you, but I have a major complex when it comes to changing at work. Maybe it violates the separation of work and personal life that I strive to maintain on a daily basis. I feel almost naked when I come out of the bathroom with shorts and a t-shirt on. I've got to work on that some more and learn to lift the shoulders up (and suck the belly in :o/) and try to hide the pit stains on my grungy undershirts while I try to make a quick getaway.
In any case, I made it to the street where I mounted my twin pair of horses onto my feet. I realized that I left my insoles at home, which meant that my balance would be all messed up. Or maybe I'm just using that as an excuse for why I was flailing all over the first couple of streets with cars honking behind me. Come on, it's been three years, gimmeabreak. Plus, the only place I used to roll in the city were in Central Park with it's meticulously maintained outer-rim road that provided me with lots of room to fly and launch off jumps.
Well, Queens is no Central Park, that's for sure. True to it's industrial image, the streets are lined with gravel, the decrepit sidewalks are more or less poorly maintained, there are no street sweepers off the major routes, and the roads are lined with chop shops and auto mechanics that love to drip oil all over the place, making me look like a car in that old video game that hits the oil slicks. Plus, the road along the water, with surprisingly clearly marked bike routes, were pitted, uneven, and full of little rocks that tore up my virgin wheels. It was great! This route is clearly going to be challenging to master, but this spring I am going to have a go at it and see if I can manage to survive.
After blading home yesterday, I decided that my suffering legs needed a stretch so I did a little jog around the hood and through the lovely sculpture park, where people like to unleash their dogs and minks. Wait, WTF? Somebody let their mink/weasel thing off the leash and it was just hopping alongside them in the park. That was the weirded thing that I've seen since I saw somebody taking their monkey for a walk in SoHo one time. At least with a pet mink you can skin it and make a nice neck lining for your coat....
Easter was pretty depressing around here, what with Liverpool failing to qualify for next year's Champion's League, Erika having a family reunion and making chicharron with a whole pig at home with people that traveled 16 hours on a Peruvian bus just for lunch, my family having a family reunion in California with various liquor concoctions and Brie undoubtedly getting drunk, and with me reading a book about a girl who's jailed and tortured in Iran as a political prisoner. At least the weather was brilliant! What a happy day :o) !!
J. Riley, remind me to bring my bike helmet back with me from California. I'd rather prevent my head from meeting the gravel on these dangerous commutes home!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Urine Luck
There are certain times in ones life when the discovery of a tool leads to inspiration of sorts. Blogging was one of those events back in 2003 or so. After opening my account and remaining dormant for months, I had a back-of-the-cab discussion with Paul, Cathy, and a friend of theirs in town about the crazy city of New York and how there needed to be a way to keep track of places that I wanted to go, events that transpired, and the life that was being lived. It was fairly successful over the years, even if the production line of posts isn't quite like it was in the past.
Recently I was out at dinner with some friends and was learning all about the book of James. It was fascinating and was something that I had yearned for throughout the years that I had been blogging. I hope that the book of James provides another moment of inspiration since I went out and bought something just like the book of James: a pocket-sized faux-leather personal journal. It's great for keeping track of my thoughts, making a note about websites that I need to check back on when I get home, and pretty much anything else that I can think of that needs to be documented.
Thus, it is Christmas Eve and I wish to provide you with a taste of my own book of James. Oh hell no, there's a poem in store for ya'll!
The First Day of (Peruvian) Christmas
by J. Riley
You're in Luck,
when the faux-hawk that you rock,
stands up like a shock
and when 230v > 110v, I nearly knocked my socks off.
The sirens will sounds,
that there's a new gringa in town.
The fish will clown
while her tooth is getting crowned.
This, with the girl that wore my wedding gown.
J. Riley, Feliz Navidad! Pictures that go along with the linguistic art above will have to wait until I get back to NY...
Recently I was out at dinner with some friends and was learning all about the book of James. It was fascinating and was something that I had yearned for throughout the years that I had been blogging. I hope that the book of James provides another moment of inspiration since I went out and bought something just like the book of James: a pocket-sized faux-leather personal journal. It's great for keeping track of my thoughts, making a note about websites that I need to check back on when I get home, and pretty much anything else that I can think of that needs to be documented.
Thus, it is Christmas Eve and I wish to provide you with a taste of my own book of James. Oh hell no, there's a poem in store for ya'll!
The First Day of (Peruvian) Christmas
by J. Riley
You're in Luck,
when the faux-hawk that you rock,
stands up like a shock
and when 230v > 110v, I nearly knocked my socks off.
The sirens will sounds,
that there's a new gringa in town.
The fish will clown
while her tooth is getting crowned.
This, with the girl that wore my wedding gown.
J. Riley, Feliz Navidad! Pictures that go along with the linguistic art above will have to wait until I get back to NY...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Peru Recap for June
I'm back from my trip and, while I'm still working on recovering from my flight, I'm alive! It was a pretty busy week that involved lots of public transit, lots of naps on said public transit, and some interesting tidbits!
Pluses:
Pluses:
- I met an interesting couple on the flight down to Peru that are from Cardiff-by-the-Sea (it's a small world). He is an English teacher in Oceanside and for some reason reminded me of my dad. Might of had something to do with the gray goatee, the bald head :o), and they laid-back surfer attitude. They were on their way to Cusco and didn't really seem to know what they were doing, so I gave them the lowdown and recommended a few places to eat. He was also interested in possibly having dental work done somewhere in Latin America so we traded emails and I gave him my assessment of Peruvian dental care. I heard back from him the other day that they totally loved Jack's (Who doesn't? Or so I've heard...) and had a good time in Cusco, despite it being really cold. Anyway, they cashed out of their house in SD at the peak of the real estate bubble and purchased some property in Costa Rica and are planning on retiring there. Sounds like a good idea to me!
- Ryan got married - religiously! They had their wedding in a nice church followed by a reception in a tent (similar to our's, but different shape, etc.) at an Air Force club. I had a great time hanging out with Ryan's old buddies, all of whom I had met one time or another throughout the years, and of course his wonderful family. Erika and I had a lot of fun at the wedding and danced our shoes off (shocking!) and enjoyed some of the tasty beverages that were served up.
- Surgery! Erika's mom made it through her plastic surgery with flying colors and, despite not being allowed to leave the hospital yet, she is doing great. We spent a few hours at the hospital every day and hopefully she will be home and recovering soon!
- Shopping! Erika and I went to a jacket market in downtown Lima and scored some sweet long baby Alpaca wool jackets for the winter! We paid a total of about $100 for both of them. Unfortunately, due to my size being unusual for Peru, I had to take my jacket to the tailor to get the arms extended and to make it fit my body better. It's worth the extra $15 to make sure I'm warm for the winter.
- Concerts! I had my first experience at a major concert (~30,000 in attendance) in Peru. We saw a Dominican bachata band that we like (Aventura) play a great show, even if I didn't understand anything the singer was saying. Just like rappers singing about life in the hood, the lead singer ("Romeo", which totally fit his character) sang about things that might be considered "typical" for Dominican men like cheating on your girlfriend/wife, how to be a gentleman when you tell your girlfriend/wife you cheated on her, and how to tell your best friend that you are cheating with his girlfriend/wife :o) . But he was quite a showman and we had a great time, even if our feet were about to explode after standing up for about 5 hours by the end of the show.
- Concerts :o( Despite the show being great, I had my first experience at someone trying to rob me! I was standing in line waiting to get into the venue (with thousands of others, it was not very well organized) when I suddenly felt a super hard jerk on my arm backwards. Someone was trying to steal my flippin' watch! I turned around, dealt a swift capoeira Armada com martelo kick to the guy's mandible (maybe it was more like this), leveling him and stepped on his neck until the police rushed over and arrested him. And then I woke up from my stooper and turned around, shocked, looked at the guy (who of course pointed to someone else) and ran to catch up to Erika and tell her what happened, massaging my wrist the whole time. Of course there were no police in the area, despite the mass of people. I was freaked out and worried about my wedding ring, her wedding/engagement ring and watch, etc. Of course, she wasn't as concerned since this is not an unusual event in Peru (she's had three watches stolen and her wallet stolen twice) and said "I told you to be careful". Needless to say, I gave her my watch to protect it and was glad that she was the one handling all the money during the trip.
- Michael Jackson :o( RIP. I always wanted to see him make a comeback and it's sad to know that he went out the way he did and hard to believe that he isn't around anymore. I honored his passing by buying a $2 illegal DVD of one of his concerts. Aventura tried to honor him by singing Billy Jean during the concert, but it was horrendous and they got half way through the first chorus before stopping. How do you not know the words of that chorus??
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Dental Tourism - La Cuenta Por Favor (Check Please)!
After much pondering and reflection on just what the hell to do about my teeth while I'm down here in Peru, I decided that I would utilize one of my remaining appointments to at least get the tooth that needed the onlay checked out, because my conclusion on that tooth wasn't totally confirmed yet. I know that my dentist in NY had said that the area around the existing (metal) filling on that tooth was turning gray. That sounded like a legitimate reason to have something fixed, because there was obviously something wrong.
So, I checked into my dentist here in Peru to talk about that tooth. He explained that over time, metal (almagam) fillings will eventually turn the area adjacent to it gray, since the filling itself is gray and, after reviewing the tooth again, could find no reason to have it fixed because the filling and the tooth were perfectly fine as is. Again, he didn't want to do work on me - that's a good sign!
So, five minutes after sitting down, I said "Great, that's all I needed to hear" and was basically ready to get up and leave. But he hadn't given me the "Thanks for coming in, maybe I'll see you again" look, message, etc. In fact, I heard a dental DRILL start and the assistant was suddenly standing next to me. And drilling on the aforementioned "root canal" tooth commenced. Okay, I'm not sure what the hell is happening here, but he had already started drilling so I just let it continue. I was thinking, what if he misunderstood and is starting the process to create the crown! And I'm leaving in a few days! Ack! It won't be done! What the hell have I gotten myself into! (De ja vu?). Then there was a pause and I could ask, unusually optimisticly, "Umm, are you just opening up the restoration to observe and confirm your earlier assessment?" Luckily, he was! He had told me during the first meeting that he was 80% sure that the tooth was fine, and that the only way to confirm it 100% was to open it up and take a look inside.
So I was totally cool with the fact he wanted to give me his 100% assessment, though it would have been nice to have a heads up! I guess that's a trade off when dealing with someone who's English is his second language. But I trust the guy, so I was cool with that. After probing him with questions after his drilling, he confirmed his earlier assessment that the four walls of the tooth are in great condition and no crown was needed!
So, he started the restoration (filling) for the tooth again and my mind was just thinking and analyzing the situation. First, I noticed that the tools (tooth picky things) were dark, not shiny stainless steel. Oh my god, they are RUSTY! Wait, can one of those tools be sanitized and still be rusty? I couldn't really think of a reason why not, and he was only touching tooth, afterall, not my gums. But I was mildly freaked out and kept trying to catch the angle of it to confirm the initial visual assessment. I just couldn't focus my eyes that close and figure it out. Finally, I did catch it and realized it was just dark colored - maybe tempered steel or something like that. NOT rusty.
As he continued the work and as I continued to analyze my situation, I noticed that he was pretty much usuing the same tools that my high-end orthodontist uses to zap the teeth with the infrared gun (or whatever it is) to harden the layers of the restoration. Big point for him on that. At two points of the restoration, he was talking on the cell phone that his assistant held to his ear without missing a beat in my mouth. This restoration was too easy for him! After all, his specialty is bite disorders, oral rehabilitation, and the mandible (lower jaw bone).
So after becoming comfortable with the restore, zap, restore, zap process of each layer, my mind drifted to the fact that I had only brought $40 with me that day and he accepts cash only. Crap! Would he let me come back later after visiting the bank? Crap! I didn't bring my insurance form! Maybe I could go to the bank and then print out the form at some nearby internet cafe. Yea, I'm pretty sure he would be cool with that.
Soon enough, he was finished. Previously, my tooth edge was sort of like a crater, where the outside edge was almost sharp and the restoration was more or less recessed a bit inside the tooth, which felt weird to me. And the tooth, due to the fact it was flat and didn't have the "cusp" (point to match the lower tooth). This guy not only restored it to the point it was before he drilled, he added the point to it to match my lower tooth! So now the tooth feels like a normal tooth, not an unusually flat, recessed tooth. Wow, sweet job!
So I was all done, now just to settle the bill. I asked him what the total was for this and he said $35. Holy scheisse! $35 to assess a tooth, drill out another, assess that tooth, and create an awesome restoration? I was amazing stoked and 100% sold on getting all future work done with this guy. It cost me over $200 (after insurance paid) to get a small restoration done a few weeks ago at my NY dentist. And, as I mentioned, insurance will pay for half of this bill, making the total cost $17.50 :o)
So as we walked around town, I thought about my NY dentist, in particular about whether their assessment jived with what this doctor told me and, as a result, whether or not I wanted to continue to get my teeth cleaned there. And I realized that their assessment wasn't necessarily wrong, they are just more aggressive about fixing the teeth and want to fix everything to the highest level to make sure there are no problems in the future. A crown would have definitely fixed my root canal pre-molar, no additional assessment or question necessary. An onlay would have gotten rid of the metal filling on my back tooth so that no discoloration would result. They weren't wrong, per se, but it would have been nice if they gave me the whole story rather than holding back alternatives and options. But in the future, I'm getting all serious work done here, and the doctor and my bank account are happy to hear that.
J. Riley, Erika's friend thought I paid too much for restoration :o) . I'll gladly "overpay" for the best dentist!
So, I checked into my dentist here in Peru to talk about that tooth. He explained that over time, metal (almagam) fillings will eventually turn the area adjacent to it gray, since the filling itself is gray and, after reviewing the tooth again, could find no reason to have it fixed because the filling and the tooth were perfectly fine as is. Again, he didn't want to do work on me - that's a good sign!
So, five minutes after sitting down, I said "Great, that's all I needed to hear" and was basically ready to get up and leave. But he hadn't given me the "Thanks for coming in, maybe I'll see you again" look, message, etc. In fact, I heard a dental DRILL start and the assistant was suddenly standing next to me. And drilling on the aforementioned "root canal" tooth commenced. Okay, I'm not sure what the hell is happening here, but he had already started drilling so I just let it continue. I was thinking, what if he misunderstood and is starting the process to create the crown! And I'm leaving in a few days! Ack! It won't be done! What the hell have I gotten myself into! (De ja vu?). Then there was a pause and I could ask, unusually optimisticly, "Umm, are you just opening up the restoration to observe and confirm your earlier assessment?" Luckily, he was! He had told me during the first meeting that he was 80% sure that the tooth was fine, and that the only way to confirm it 100% was to open it up and take a look inside.
So I was totally cool with the fact he wanted to give me his 100% assessment, though it would have been nice to have a heads up! I guess that's a trade off when dealing with someone who's English is his second language. But I trust the guy, so I was cool with that. After probing him with questions after his drilling, he confirmed his earlier assessment that the four walls of the tooth are in great condition and no crown was needed!
So, he started the restoration (filling) for the tooth again and my mind was just thinking and analyzing the situation. First, I noticed that the tools (tooth picky things) were dark, not shiny stainless steel. Oh my god, they are RUSTY! Wait, can one of those tools be sanitized and still be rusty? I couldn't really think of a reason why not, and he was only touching tooth, afterall, not my gums. But I was mildly freaked out and kept trying to catch the angle of it to confirm the initial visual assessment. I just couldn't focus my eyes that close and figure it out. Finally, I did catch it and realized it was just dark colored - maybe tempered steel or something like that. NOT rusty.
As he continued the work and as I continued to analyze my situation, I noticed that he was pretty much usuing the same tools that my high-end orthodontist uses to zap the teeth with the infrared gun (or whatever it is) to harden the layers of the restoration. Big point for him on that. At two points of the restoration, he was talking on the cell phone that his assistant held to his ear without missing a beat in my mouth. This restoration was too easy for him! After all, his specialty is bite disorders, oral rehabilitation, and the mandible (lower jaw bone).
So after becoming comfortable with the restore, zap, restore, zap process of each layer, my mind drifted to the fact that I had only brought $40 with me that day and he accepts cash only. Crap! Would he let me come back later after visiting the bank? Crap! I didn't bring my insurance form! Maybe I could go to the bank and then print out the form at some nearby internet cafe. Yea, I'm pretty sure he would be cool with that.
Soon enough, he was finished. Previously, my tooth edge was sort of like a crater, where the outside edge was almost sharp and the restoration was more or less recessed a bit inside the tooth, which felt weird to me. And the tooth, due to the fact it was flat and didn't have the "cusp" (point to match the lower tooth). This guy not only restored it to the point it was before he drilled, he added the point to it to match my lower tooth! So now the tooth feels like a normal tooth, not an unusually flat, recessed tooth. Wow, sweet job!
So I was all done, now just to settle the bill. I asked him what the total was for this and he said $35. Holy scheisse! $35 to assess a tooth, drill out another, assess that tooth, and create an awesome restoration? I was amazing stoked and 100% sold on getting all future work done with this guy. It cost me over $200 (after insurance paid) to get a small restoration done a few weeks ago at my NY dentist. And, as I mentioned, insurance will pay for half of this bill, making the total cost $17.50 :o)
So as we walked around town, I thought about my NY dentist, in particular about whether their assessment jived with what this doctor told me and, as a result, whether or not I wanted to continue to get my teeth cleaned there. And I realized that their assessment wasn't necessarily wrong, they are just more aggressive about fixing the teeth and want to fix everything to the highest level to make sure there are no problems in the future. A crown would have definitely fixed my root canal pre-molar, no additional assessment or question necessary. An onlay would have gotten rid of the metal filling on my back tooth so that no discoloration would result. They weren't wrong, per se, but it would have been nice if they gave me the whole story rather than holding back alternatives and options. But in the future, I'm getting all serious work done here, and the doctor and my bank account are happy to hear that.
J. Riley, Erika's friend thought I paid too much for restoration :o) . I'll gladly "overpay" for the best dentist!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Twick or Tweet?
So I went and researched my options for getting my next dental adventure (two crowns) done down in Peru. It looks like they will likely cost me about a quarter to half the cost by going to one of the best doctors in Lima, plus my insurance will cover 50% of the work done (even in a foreign country, they'll even translate documents!!), so that will be half of THAT cost! So now I just have to figure out how to get it all done, logistically, and talk with the doctor about some more details (oh yea, he speaks fluent English, of course). I wonder if he'll have the awesome DVD goggles to keep me entertained while he's giving me new teeth....
Summer seems to have arrived - at least it did last weekend. So, we celebrated it in style, starting immediately at 5:00pm on Friday. We headed down to Brooklyn to catch a sushi dinner a theater performance with some friends of ours. I thought it was some nice classical music performance, and it was Bach, which was impressive. It was St. Matthew, the Divine. Ever seen Passion of the Christ? Yea, it was like the movie. Only it was all done in opera style, and there was no acting :o|. Three hours of chorus singing interspersed with solo performances, and only one intermission. Yikes, it was rough. No wonder two of the four of us fell asleep (not me, I survived through it, counting down each minute).
Saturday, we slept in a bit until 9:45, when I had to get up to hook my laptop up to my TV and watch the Liverpool game. There's been some pretty crazy games with them lately, unfortunately not in their favor, but they did the job on Saturday, knocking around the opposition in a 3-1 fashion. Afterwards, Erika went to get her haircut for the first time in the US. Being that we live in a heavily Euro/Brazilian immigrant neighborhood, she got a referral from one of her friends to get her haircut at a super-Euro, Croatian place called Gigi. It was great, full of fashionable gay guys with mohawks, techno music blasting, wine or beverages available to the guests and clients. And, to top it off, Erika got a great haircut and walked out looking like Paula Abdul. Which is not a bad thing!
We had some free time then, and it was hot out, so we decided it would be great to take a mass-transit road trip to check out some beaches. Three subways, one express bus, and two hours later, we ended up at the Far Rockaways, where we were met with cold gusts of wind and NO heat! We were lost in the middle of nowhere after cruising through some serious ghettos to get there. Every other building was either shuttered, an African braid salon, or a laundromat. Thank got I live in Astoria! We got off the bus and started walking and asked a guy we were walking by, "Where's the beach?". Of course, he didn't speak English. Having about seven languages covered between the two of us, we asked him what language he wanted to converse in and he said "Russian". We started doing hand-hyrogliphics and using words like "water", "beach", and "why don't you know English, you live in freakin Far Rockaway!" Anyway, after a very anti-climactic visit to a cold beach, we got back on the local bus and I proceeded to fall asleep until we got back - to Jamaica, Queens (another ghetto-fantastic neighborhood). That's a long ass trip home!
Well, at least there was one positive thing to do on the way home. Since we were taking the E-train home, we got off in Jackson Heights to try to find our Peruvian Restaurant of choice - Pio Pio. There are several elusive restaurants that we tried to find using phone-a-friend, but Jackson Heights is in desperate need for jacksonheights.citysearch.com . We walked all over JH trying to find Pio Pio and ended up really enjoying the neighborhoods there. Big, roomy, historically protected apartments, leafy streets, 182 languages spoken (fact!), more restaurants than you can imagine from more countries than you can imagine, and still relatively close to NYC. I think we decided that if we were going to settle down in the NY area (a BIG if), it would probably be somewhere like JH. A pitcher of sangria and a pollo a la brasa later, we were feeling good, so we got on another bus that took us to the ghettos of Astoria, from where we could walk home and crash after a long day.
Sunday was even hotter than Saturday, reaching a full 90 degrees! It was gorgeous, as was our plan for the day - entertaining out of town Vince by giving him a whirlwind tour of some of what Astoria offers the occasional tourist. Naturally, we started off with pitchers of imported Czech beer at the very popular Czech beer garden. There must have been at least 600 people there with the sun shining through the giant, overhanging Euro trees that provide just enough shade to prevent my chalky skin from changing into a pigment of red. Further stops included a self-proclaimed Greek-fusion restaurant for Greek beer, and a hip burger cafe aptly named Fatty's for some righteous, original burger flavors (that would provide me with 2:30am heartburn) and some fresh German hefe-weissen to whet my whistle (that would provide me with a 9:00pm bedtime).
A glorious weekend it was. And now, onto the subject of this blog. Twitter. Do I need it? No. Really, who cares what I'm doing every day? Who wants to read, "wow, just read an interesting article about industrial espionage" (besides Ryan), or "I just found out that E*Trade is paying 2% on their savings accounts" (besides Cathy and Melissa), or "Sweet, Adriano is going back to Flamengo!" (besides Daniel), or "Stefan just bought a new computer to install Linux on so that I can install an awesome photo album software" (besides Roland), or "Just finished an hour of downward dogs" (besides Paul). Really, do people want to read my "tweets"? If the masses want it, it will come! Comments please....
J. Riley, "just finished writing my blog"
Summer seems to have arrived - at least it did last weekend. So, we celebrated it in style, starting immediately at 5:00pm on Friday. We headed down to Brooklyn to catch a sushi dinner a theater performance with some friends of ours. I thought it was some nice classical music performance, and it was Bach, which was impressive. It was St. Matthew, the Divine. Ever seen Passion of the Christ? Yea, it was like the movie. Only it was all done in opera style, and there was no acting :o|. Three hours of chorus singing interspersed with solo performances, and only one intermission. Yikes, it was rough. No wonder two of the four of us fell asleep (not me, I survived through it, counting down each minute).
Saturday, we slept in a bit until 9:45, when I had to get up to hook my laptop up to my TV and watch the Liverpool game. There's been some pretty crazy games with them lately, unfortunately not in their favor, but they did the job on Saturday, knocking around the opposition in a 3-1 fashion. Afterwards, Erika went to get her haircut for the first time in the US. Being that we live in a heavily Euro/Brazilian immigrant neighborhood, she got a referral from one of her friends to get her haircut at a super-Euro, Croatian place called Gigi. It was great, full of fashionable gay guys with mohawks, techno music blasting, wine or beverages available to the guests and clients. And, to top it off, Erika got a great haircut and walked out looking like Paula Abdul. Which is not a bad thing!
We had some free time then, and it was hot out, so we decided it would be great to take a mass-transit road trip to check out some beaches. Three subways, one express bus, and two hours later, we ended up at the Far Rockaways, where we were met with cold gusts of wind and NO heat! We were lost in the middle of nowhere after cruising through some serious ghettos to get there. Every other building was either shuttered, an African braid salon, or a laundromat. Thank got I live in Astoria! We got off the bus and started walking and asked a guy we were walking by, "Where's the beach?". Of course, he didn't speak English. Having about seven languages covered between the two of us, we asked him what language he wanted to converse in and he said "Russian". We started doing hand-hyrogliphics and using words like "water", "beach", and "why don't you know English, you live in freakin Far Rockaway!" Anyway, after a very anti-climactic visit to a cold beach, we got back on the local bus and I proceeded to fall asleep until we got back - to Jamaica, Queens (another ghetto-fantastic neighborhood). That's a long ass trip home!
Well, at least there was one positive thing to do on the way home. Since we were taking the E-train home, we got off in Jackson Heights to try to find our Peruvian Restaurant of choice - Pio Pio. There are several elusive restaurants that we tried to find using phone-a-friend, but Jackson Heights is in desperate need for jacksonheights.citysearch.com . We walked all over JH trying to find Pio Pio and ended up really enjoying the neighborhoods there. Big, roomy, historically protected apartments, leafy streets, 182 languages spoken (fact!), more restaurants than you can imagine from more countries than you can imagine, and still relatively close to NYC. I think we decided that if we were going to settle down in the NY area (a BIG if), it would probably be somewhere like JH. A pitcher of sangria and a pollo a la brasa later, we were feeling good, so we got on another bus that took us to the ghettos of Astoria, from where we could walk home and crash after a long day.
Sunday was even hotter than Saturday, reaching a full 90 degrees! It was gorgeous, as was our plan for the day - entertaining out of town Vince by giving him a whirlwind tour of some of what Astoria offers the occasional tourist. Naturally, we started off with pitchers of imported Czech beer at the very popular Czech beer garden. There must have been at least 600 people there with the sun shining through the giant, overhanging Euro trees that provide just enough shade to prevent my chalky skin from changing into a pigment of red. Further stops included a self-proclaimed Greek-fusion restaurant for Greek beer, and a hip burger cafe aptly named Fatty's for some righteous, original burger flavors (that would provide me with 2:30am heartburn) and some fresh German hefe-weissen to whet my whistle (that would provide me with a 9:00pm bedtime).
A glorious weekend it was. And now, onto the subject of this blog. Twitter. Do I need it? No. Really, who cares what I'm doing every day? Who wants to read, "wow, just read an interesting article about industrial espionage" (besides Ryan), or "I just found out that E*Trade is paying 2% on their savings accounts" (besides Cathy and Melissa), or "Sweet, Adriano is going back to Flamengo!" (besides Daniel), or "Stefan just bought a new computer to install Linux on so that I can install an awesome photo album software" (besides Roland), or "Just finished an hour of downward dogs" (besides Paul). Really, do people want to read my "tweets"? If the masses want it, it will come! Comments please....
J. Riley, "just finished writing my blog"
Monday, April 13, 2009
Rug Doctor Doo-lot
In the last post, I talked about how excited I was to get to weekend cleaning and putting the Rug Doctor into action. Well, the first part of my plan was successful: renting the Rug Doctor in the wee hours of Saturday morning to make sure I had enough time to clean the carpet and return it on Sunday. We came home from a movie and gluten-free pizza at Sean's at about 2:30am and picked up the unit at our local grocery store before dragging it home. But, unfortunately, there was no way I was going to vacuum half of my apartment at 3:00am, especially considering our thin walls. I imagine the neighbors would not be pleased about that.
So Saturday, at around 9:00am, I woke up and got into the action of it all. The plan was to vacuum half the apartment, take a two hour break for the Liverpool game, and then vacuum the other half of the apartment. Supposedly, the carpet is supposed to dry in like three hours. It turned out that I vacuumed almost the whole carpet before the game, but the carpet was still sopping wet when the game was over. However, the water that got sucked up was filthy dirty, super nasty, so I know that even if it didn't work as well as advertised, it was certainly doing something.
Later in the evening, the carpet STILL wasn't dry but since we were going to take the doctor back, I went ahead and did another round of vacuuming and, again, the water was super nasty. We spent extra time on the vacuuming part (as opposed to the watering/cleaning part) to try to get as much moisture as we could out of the rug and the next morning it was STILL wet.
My verdict on the Rug Doctor: It didn't work quite as well as advertised and it took way too long to dry, but the rug is definitely cleaner, as evidenced by exhibit A: my feet are clean after walking around barefoot all day on the carpet. So it was definitely worth the $42 I spent renting the unit. Next time, I just have to remember to spend that extra time on sucking up the moisture.
I certainly enjoyed my experience with that doctor, but didn't enjoy my experience with the next doctor: my dentist. There are three DMDs in the office that I visit to have my teeth cleaned, one of which I hate. At the last visit, she told me I grind my teeth and needed a mouth guard. Uhh, fact: I don't grind my teeth anymore, so don't sound so convinced before you know my medical history. She seems to take extra special joy and sounds excited when she finds the inevitable problems with my teeth. In fact, in this particular visit last week, I thought she was going to bust out the Don Perignon when she told me that I was going to need to come back in a few weeks to have some problems fixed. She told me I need a crown put on the tooth that I had a root canal on like three years ago. Hello? Why didn't someone tell me this before? In fact, this was the same office that told me I needed a root canal, it woulda been nice for them to mention or suggest that at the time. If it weren't for the hi-tech cleaning techniques and their DVD goggles that I get to wear when they fix my teeth (i.e. cavities, etc.) , I woulda left a long time ago.
But it gets better. Not only do I get to get a crown, but in addition I also need a cavity filling and a porcelain filling, or so the receptionist told me when I was about to check out. Uhh, what's the difference? A porcelain filling is another crown! TWO F'ING CROWNS and a filling. No wonder the DMD was acting like she was sniffing her laughing gas and so happy to see me. I guess there's no recession for her when people like me have to pay four-figure fees to get my teeth fixed. Next time, I'll stick with my regular DMD, thank you very much.
J. Riley, now that was a rant. I'm looking into dental services (crowns) in Peru, certainly will save significant cash with the same/better quality of service.
So Saturday, at around 9:00am, I woke up and got into the action of it all. The plan was to vacuum half the apartment, take a two hour break for the Liverpool game, and then vacuum the other half of the apartment. Supposedly, the carpet is supposed to dry in like three hours. It turned out that I vacuumed almost the whole carpet before the game, but the carpet was still sopping wet when the game was over. However, the water that got sucked up was filthy dirty, super nasty, so I know that even if it didn't work as well as advertised, it was certainly doing something.
Later in the evening, the carpet STILL wasn't dry but since we were going to take the doctor back, I went ahead and did another round of vacuuming and, again, the water was super nasty. We spent extra time on the vacuuming part (as opposed to the watering/cleaning part) to try to get as much moisture as we could out of the rug and the next morning it was STILL wet.
My verdict on the Rug Doctor: It didn't work quite as well as advertised and it took way too long to dry, but the rug is definitely cleaner, as evidenced by exhibit A: my feet are clean after walking around barefoot all day on the carpet. So it was definitely worth the $42 I spent renting the unit. Next time, I just have to remember to spend that extra time on sucking up the moisture.
I certainly enjoyed my experience with that doctor, but didn't enjoy my experience with the next doctor: my dentist. There are three DMDs in the office that I visit to have my teeth cleaned, one of which I hate. At the last visit, she told me I grind my teeth and needed a mouth guard. Uhh, fact: I don't grind my teeth anymore, so don't sound so convinced before you know my medical history. She seems to take extra special joy and sounds excited when she finds the inevitable problems with my teeth. In fact, in this particular visit last week, I thought she was going to bust out the Don Perignon when she told me that I was going to need to come back in a few weeks to have some problems fixed. She told me I need a crown put on the tooth that I had a root canal on like three years ago. Hello? Why didn't someone tell me this before? In fact, this was the same office that told me I needed a root canal, it woulda been nice for them to mention or suggest that at the time. If it weren't for the hi-tech cleaning techniques and their DVD goggles that I get to wear when they fix my teeth (i.e. cavities, etc.) , I woulda left a long time ago.
But it gets better. Not only do I get to get a crown, but in addition I also need a cavity filling and a porcelain filling, or so the receptionist told me when I was about to check out. Uhh, what's the difference? A porcelain filling is another crown! TWO F'ING CROWNS and a filling. No wonder the DMD was acting like she was sniffing her laughing gas and so happy to see me. I guess there's no recession for her when people like me have to pay four-figure fees to get my teeth fixed. Next time, I'll stick with my regular DMD, thank you very much.
J. Riley, now that was a rant. I'm looking into dental services (crowns) in Peru, certainly will save significant cash with the same/better quality of service.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Wedding Blog: Wedding Day
The day I was to be married, Saturday, February 14th, 2009, I woke up in the middle of the night in a deep sweat. Was I sleepless, tossing and turning in bed, nervous about the wedding? No, what woke me up was the sounds of my roommate tossing his cookies in the bathroom. I felt really bad for him at that time and checked to make sure he was going to survive at least through the wedding. And the room, despite the fan being on, had no air circulation whatsoever, so it was hot as hell. Another big "plus" for the hotel we were staying at :o/ . I quickly fell back asleep, however, once Stefan confirmed that he was feeling five pounds lighter and marginally better than when he had gone to bed.
My alarm clock was set to go off at 8:30am and it went off to my annoyance. I got up, took a "shower" (lukewarm water dripping from a "shower head" in the bathroom :o| ), and then headed over to the grocery store to pick up some drugs for Stefan, since I knew it was going to be a rough day for him. I also picked out a cheap twist-off-cap bottle of white wine that would be used as my anesthesia prior to the wedding ceremony.
I was amazed that at this hour in Miraflores, the streets were completely empty and the only people out were the gardners grooming the parks. I was pretty surprised, but didn't think anything else about it since this is also the case in New York City on the weekends. The city doesn't move until noon. This is Latin America, afterall, the clock is on "island time".
Anyway, I got back to the hotel, fed Stefan some cheap South American pills that I hoped would help, and checked the time. It was 7:45am. Son of a bitch. The alarm clock on my cellphone has had a bug since the day I bought it. Even the my 7:00am alarm is set to go off on Monday-Friday only (for work, obviously), it goes off on the weekends as well. Tell me that THAT'S not annoying :o| . So, I had some free time to waste before everyone else got up to go to breakfast.
After piddling around on the computer downstairs, the masses woke up and we went to our Cafe Manolo for breakfast, like we did every day. I felt pretty zen-like that morning, and that was before I started on the bottle of wine, which was opened after breakfast about an hour before the noon ceremony while I was getting dressed. There's no good, plausible reason to feel nervous in front of 150 people while you are getting married in a foreign language when wine is cheap and readily available to any paying customer at the local grocery store. It woked during my civil wedding, and it worked at this wedding as well, so a few glasses (or gulps from the bottle, as in my case) of it before a wedding comes highly recommended from your's truly.
Anyway, the phone rang and I was beckoned downstairs by the photographers. They wanted to go up to my room to take pre-wedding pictures and I said "uuhhhh....that's not a good idea", and not only because my roommate had been throwing up all night. The rooms in this hotel are not what you want plastered as your background through sickness and health until death do you part. Of course, downstairs had an authentic vintage look going on that would work well in the East Village in some hipster cafe (think "DT-UT", New Yorkers), but it was that: authentically vintage. As-in, dark, ratty couches, ancient computer, torn up walls, bad carpet, etc. But still, it was better than the rooms and, in fact, it turned out pretty nice in the pictures. I looked like a British aristocrat in my library or study, so that worked out well.
Somebody was supposed to pick me and my parents up in a black car while the bus was transporting our guests to the church, but I didn't really know who it was going to be, when they were coming, or whether they planned on taking me hostage on my wedding day, but sure enough, a nice fellow came and somehow communicated in Spanish to me that he was there for us (and was going to take us to the church). The bus also arrived on time and everything seemed to be in order. It was almost too efficient and unstressful for me to believe.
When we got in the car, the driver gave me the cue card of the things (in Spanish) I was supposed to say in the church so I had the first cram session that I've had since I graduated from college to try to pronounce the words in front of me, whether I knew what they meant or not ;o) (actually, I did know what they meant; basically the same as in English).
We got to the church pretty early, so we were all just hanging out and trying to stay cool. I wasn't really sure how everything was supposed to proceed, but I figured that our wedding planner should be involved at some point and tell us when to get started. About thirty minutes later, she showed up and quickly threw some flowers on us gentlemen, handed the bridesmaids their boquets, and then got everything started. One of the groomsmen was Erika's cousin's husband that I knew and he was trying to tell me something, but I kept telling him to go talk to the wedding planner because he needed his flower. It turns out that two of the bridesmaids didn't turn up on time, and he was trying to tell me (I think) that he didn't need a flower since his bridesmaid partner wasn't there. Of course, I didn't realize that this was the case until he and Stefan walked down the aisle together, mano-y-mano sans bridesmaids.
So the wedding ceremony music started while I was chilling down at the first pew, enjoying the lingering effects of the two cups/gulps of white wine I had drank two hours before. Erika had arrived and was quickly ushured down the aisle by her dad, and then it was game on. Naturally, she looked stunning and was more nervous than me, but that might have been the wine. She ever whispered to me during the ceremony, "Haines, you smell like alcohol". Who, me? ;o)
The ceremony went as ceremonies go, which was good considering the words that I had to read from the priest were actually DIFFERENT than my cue card had been. That could have been bad if he hadn't held the book up for me! I followed Erika's lead with the whole standing up, sitting down, standing up, kneeling down that is involved in Catholic churches. The only awkward part was that he pronounced us man and wife and I thought I got to kiss her then. But then he kept talking and I asked Erika, "Wasn't I suppsed to kiss you?" She thought I was supposed to as well, but the priest kept talking and I was thinking how strange it would be to have a wedding ceremony without that pinnacle moment. A few minutes later, the priest said something, Erika grabbed me and said, "Kiss me!" and that was that!
After the wedding, we had personal pictures and were congratulated by everyone outside the church. One unfortunate thing is that I had gotten a new pair of glasses the week before that didn't tint when I was outside in order to show off my beautiful blue eyes (not!) and not have wedding photos with moderately-tinted "Hello, I'm Justin and I am a child molestor" glasses. This worked out well, except that it was like 1:00pm in the middle of the summer, and the sun was BRIGHT! Unfortunately, in some of the pictures, there is a hint of grimace on my face: Not because I now had a ball-and-chain, but because of the sun that was scorching my retinas. Sun glasses would have been a good idea, I guess....
Then, it was off to our Benz to whisk us away for some pictures. It was nice and and cool inside there and we found a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for us, which was a wonderful touch and definitely appreciated in order to hydrate us for the long photo sessions in a nearby park and in the photographers studio before we got to the reception. We didn't get there until almost three o'clock though, so people were eating, drinking, and being merry (especially Erika's best friend, who was righteously sauced beyond recognition when we got there and throughout the whole night. Well done! :o) by the time we arrived.
We did our wedding dance (a Waltz that we got one and a half steps into before we gave up), danced with relatives, sisters, mothers, etc, (during which we fended off Erika's best friend from interrupting) and toasted each of the tables with champagne before we got to sit down to eat something, with a plate of food magically put on my table setting by some unknown persons. I scarfed down my food (which was surprisingly good for a buffet) and enjoyed being at the center of attention for the rest of the night. I don't remember the exact order of things, but we:
Multimedia evidence:
J. Riley, obviously words won't do it justic, but it was a great wedding.
My alarm clock was set to go off at 8:30am and it went off to my annoyance. I got up, took a "shower" (lukewarm water dripping from a "shower head" in the bathroom :o| ), and then headed over to the grocery store to pick up some drugs for Stefan, since I knew it was going to be a rough day for him. I also picked out a cheap twist-off-cap bottle of white wine that would be used as my anesthesia prior to the wedding ceremony.
I was amazed that at this hour in Miraflores, the streets were completely empty and the only people out were the gardners grooming the parks. I was pretty surprised, but didn't think anything else about it since this is also the case in New York City on the weekends. The city doesn't move until noon. This is Latin America, afterall, the clock is on "island time".
Anyway, I got back to the hotel, fed Stefan some cheap South American pills that I hoped would help, and checked the time. It was 7:45am. Son of a bitch. The alarm clock on my cellphone has had a bug since the day I bought it. Even the my 7:00am alarm is set to go off on Monday-Friday only (for work, obviously), it goes off on the weekends as well. Tell me that THAT'S not annoying :o| . So, I had some free time to waste before everyone else got up to go to breakfast.
After piddling around on the computer downstairs, the masses woke up and we went to our Cafe Manolo for breakfast, like we did every day. I felt pretty zen-like that morning, and that was before I started on the bottle of wine, which was opened after breakfast about an hour before the noon ceremony while I was getting dressed. There's no good, plausible reason to feel nervous in front of 150 people while you are getting married in a foreign language when wine is cheap and readily available to any paying customer at the local grocery store. It woked during my civil wedding, and it worked at this wedding as well, so a few glasses (or gulps from the bottle, as in my case) of it before a wedding comes highly recommended from your's truly.
Anyway, the phone rang and I was beckoned downstairs by the photographers. They wanted to go up to my room to take pre-wedding pictures and I said "uuhhhh....that's not a good idea", and not only because my roommate had been throwing up all night. The rooms in this hotel are not what you want plastered as your background through sickness and health until death do you part. Of course, downstairs had an authentic vintage look going on that would work well in the East Village in some hipster cafe (think "DT-UT", New Yorkers), but it was that: authentically vintage. As-in, dark, ratty couches, ancient computer, torn up walls, bad carpet, etc. But still, it was better than the rooms and, in fact, it turned out pretty nice in the pictures. I looked like a British aristocrat in my library or study, so that worked out well.
Somebody was supposed to pick me and my parents up in a black car while the bus was transporting our guests to the church, but I didn't really know who it was going to be, when they were coming, or whether they planned on taking me hostage on my wedding day, but sure enough, a nice fellow came and somehow communicated in Spanish to me that he was there for us (and was going to take us to the church). The bus also arrived on time and everything seemed to be in order. It was almost too efficient and unstressful for me to believe.
When we got in the car, the driver gave me the cue card of the things (in Spanish) I was supposed to say in the church so I had the first cram session that I've had since I graduated from college to try to pronounce the words in front of me, whether I knew what they meant or not ;o) (actually, I did know what they meant; basically the same as in English).
We got to the church pretty early, so we were all just hanging out and trying to stay cool. I wasn't really sure how everything was supposed to proceed, but I figured that our wedding planner should be involved at some point and tell us when to get started. About thirty minutes later, she showed up and quickly threw some flowers on us gentlemen, handed the bridesmaids their boquets, and then got everything started. One of the groomsmen was Erika's cousin's husband that I knew and he was trying to tell me something, but I kept telling him to go talk to the wedding planner because he needed his flower. It turns out that two of the bridesmaids didn't turn up on time, and he was trying to tell me (I think) that he didn't need a flower since his bridesmaid partner wasn't there. Of course, I didn't realize that this was the case until he and Stefan walked down the aisle together, mano-y-mano sans bridesmaids.
So the wedding ceremony music started while I was chilling down at the first pew, enjoying the lingering effects of the two cups/gulps of white wine I had drank two hours before. Erika had arrived and was quickly ushured down the aisle by her dad, and then it was game on. Naturally, she looked stunning and was more nervous than me, but that might have been the wine. She ever whispered to me during the ceremony, "Haines, you smell like alcohol". Who, me? ;o)
The ceremony went as ceremonies go, which was good considering the words that I had to read from the priest were actually DIFFERENT than my cue card had been. That could have been bad if he hadn't held the book up for me! I followed Erika's lead with the whole standing up, sitting down, standing up, kneeling down that is involved in Catholic churches. The only awkward part was that he pronounced us man and wife and I thought I got to kiss her then. But then he kept talking and I asked Erika, "Wasn't I suppsed to kiss you?" She thought I was supposed to as well, but the priest kept talking and I was thinking how strange it would be to have a wedding ceremony without that pinnacle moment. A few minutes later, the priest said something, Erika grabbed me and said, "Kiss me!" and that was that!
After the wedding, we had personal pictures and were congratulated by everyone outside the church. One unfortunate thing is that I had gotten a new pair of glasses the week before that didn't tint when I was outside in order to show off my beautiful blue eyes (not!) and not have wedding photos with moderately-tinted "Hello, I'm Justin and I am a child molestor" glasses. This worked out well, except that it was like 1:00pm in the middle of the summer, and the sun was BRIGHT! Unfortunately, in some of the pictures, there is a hint of grimace on my face: Not because I now had a ball-and-chain, but because of the sun that was scorching my retinas. Sun glasses would have been a good idea, I guess....
Then, it was off to our Benz to whisk us away for some pictures. It was nice and and cool inside there and we found a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for us, which was a wonderful touch and definitely appreciated in order to hydrate us for the long photo sessions in a nearby park and in the photographers studio before we got to the reception. We didn't get there until almost three o'clock though, so people were eating, drinking, and being merry (especially Erika's best friend, who was righteously sauced beyond recognition when we got there and throughout the whole night. Well done! :o) by the time we arrived.
We did our wedding dance (a Waltz that we got one and a half steps into before we gave up), danced with relatives, sisters, mothers, etc, (during which we fended off Erika's best friend from interrupting) and toasted each of the tables with champagne before we got to sit down to eat something, with a plate of food magically put on my table setting by some unknown persons. I scarfed down my food (which was surprisingly good for a buffet) and enjoyed being at the center of attention for the rest of the night. I don't remember the exact order of things, but we:
- ...had Erika's 9-year-old cousin perform a Marinara dance or two for us with her dance partner. She competes nationally in this dance and it's unbelievable that kids can dance like this!
- ...danced to Latin music all night (all-good, despite my requests for some gringo and samba music).
- ...brought out "cotillon" (costume hats, ties, balloons, etc.) when people started getting tired, which made the party CRAZY on the dance floor.
- ...busted out Cuban cigars (thanks Stefan) that I had a few puffs on before it got handed on to someone else for the rest of the fire (Faryn maybe?).
- ...dealt with intoxicated bridesmaids trying to take advantage of Stefan in his feeble state.
- ...had great interaction between Peruvians and gringos, especially at the end of the night when my sisters and her friends started drinking one-liter glasses of beer :o)
- ...unfortunately had the music shut off at about 9:30 because we were at a private residence and everyone was drunk enough anyway :o)
Multimedia evidence:
J. Riley, obviously words won't do it justic, but it was a great wedding.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Wedding Blog: Wedding Eve
All/Most/Some/Few/None of you know that I got married down in Peru a few weeks back. Technically, I was already married at the time, but a proper Peruvian wedding was in order despite May's main-event.
So, down came a group of gringos to attend. Fortunately, Nina and Marcus from Denmark had a trip planned for Peru at the same time as my wedding, thus ensuring that Europe was represented along with the contingent from New York, California, and with the South American representatives from Brazil and a mob of Peruvians from all over the country, we had somewhere around 150 people in attendance.
After a late breakfast at Cafe Manolo in Miraflores, during which Katie managed to offend the entire cast of waiting service by sending back her non-scrambled eggs TWICE (leading to hilarious invisibility on the days thereafter), we climbed aboard the bus we rented in order to provide our guests with a city tour of Lima the day before the wedding. Unfortunately, there was a flight snag (understatement of the trip!) and my whole family missed most of the tour that included cruising around the cliffs and parks in Miraflores, walking around old Barranco and Surco, watching a monk dive off a cliff into the ocean, and fine dining at Sonya's, probably the best ceviche I've ever had in my life. Of course, I think I say that everytime I eat ceviche, but this one was special since it had some live piano music and of course was featured on No Reservations. We ordered way way way too much food there and it wouls have been a shame to see so much of it go to waste were it not for a certain Italian who insisted that every fried item and every ounce of rocoto hot sauce was consumed - much to his chagrin, he later realized. Remember: raw vegetables + gringo stomach = bad; rocoto hot sauce = raw, pureed rocoto (pepper); raw rocoto pureed + gringo stomach = bad. Stefan was exhibit A for this hypothesis.
He came down with a violent case of Tupac Amaru's revenge that was befitting of the last Inca himself later that night, when I had the honor of sleeping in his room (in order to avoid seeing Erika on the wedding day). He was not the only victum, either. Ol' Iron Belly Stefan was joined by Jonathon, Melissa, Summer, Daniel, and Nina in feeling Tupac's wrath on the trip, a terrible consequence of being on location for the wedding. Faryn won the award though by coming down with strep throat the day she arrived in Cusco.
Anyway, after our late lunch, we went back to the hotel to freshen up and gather the rest of our guests who had arrived. Oh, the hotel. Okay, the hotel was horrible. Despite what some people say, it was clearly stated on the wedding website that this was the "discount" hotel. But, shoot, I would have stayed here because the pictures looked great on the website. But the picture didn't show shower heads rusting off and spraying lukewarm water outside the bathroom, holes in the walls big enough for a horse to walk through, toilets that didn't flush, mildewy carpet, water dripping from the ceiling, and, the worst offense possible, a SLOW computer with lethargic internet access. Warning to all the googlers out there: avoid La Casa de Sanchez! The only thing good about it was the location, which really couldn't have been better, but there were nicer places available right next door practically.
After picking everyone else up and "cleaning up" (i.e. changing hotel rooms), the bus took us on an eternal ride to downtown Lima that took probably two exhaust-fume-filled hours to get to. The fumes from the ride were so bad that somehow I got an earache with a lot of pressure when we finally arrived. Two hours later, it was gone. It was horrible, frustrating, and made everyone want to gag, which ruined the mood of lovely downtown Lima at night.
On top of that, it was raining for the second day in a row at night. We called the wedding planner who told us that if it rained, we were pretty much screwed because the wedding tent was already up and they couldn't put the rain cover on after it's already up. Man, we were praying for good weather the next day!
Luckily, the last stop downtown turned out to be great for the guests and kind of changed everyone's mood - mine at least! There are some lighted fountains downtown that are just gorgeous and a lot of fun to visit. It sounds boring, but they really are worth visiting if you going to be in Lima at night. Some of them you can play in if you are a child or child-like (i.e. a certain Italian), though a change of clothes is recommended because it can get chilly when you're drenched in the Lima desert-climate at night.
After this, we headed back to the hotel and dropped off Erika and her mom at the apartment, the last time I saw her before the wedding.
J. Riley, pictures will be linked in the next post
So, down came a group of gringos to attend. Fortunately, Nina and Marcus from Denmark had a trip planned for Peru at the same time as my wedding, thus ensuring that Europe was represented along with the contingent from New York, California, and with the South American representatives from Brazil and a mob of Peruvians from all over the country, we had somewhere around 150 people in attendance.
After a late breakfast at Cafe Manolo in Miraflores, during which Katie managed to offend the entire cast of waiting service by sending back her non-scrambled eggs TWICE (leading to hilarious invisibility on the days thereafter), we climbed aboard the bus we rented in order to provide our guests with a city tour of Lima the day before the wedding. Unfortunately, there was a flight snag (understatement of the trip!) and my whole family missed most of the tour that included cruising around the cliffs and parks in Miraflores, walking around old Barranco and Surco, watching a monk dive off a cliff into the ocean, and fine dining at Sonya's, probably the best ceviche I've ever had in my life. Of course, I think I say that everytime I eat ceviche, but this one was special since it had some live piano music and of course was featured on No Reservations. We ordered way way way too much food there and it wouls have been a shame to see so much of it go to waste were it not for a certain Italian who insisted that every fried item and every ounce of rocoto hot sauce was consumed - much to his chagrin, he later realized. Remember: raw vegetables + gringo stomach = bad; rocoto hot sauce = raw, pureed rocoto (pepper); raw rocoto pureed + gringo stomach = bad. Stefan was exhibit A for this hypothesis.
He came down with a violent case of Tupac Amaru's revenge that was befitting of the last Inca himself later that night, when I had the honor of sleeping in his room (in order to avoid seeing Erika on the wedding day). He was not the only victum, either. Ol' Iron Belly Stefan was joined by Jonathon, Melissa, Summer, Daniel, and Nina in feeling Tupac's wrath on the trip, a terrible consequence of being on location for the wedding. Faryn won the award though by coming down with strep throat the day she arrived in Cusco.
Anyway, after our late lunch, we went back to the hotel to freshen up and gather the rest of our guests who had arrived. Oh, the hotel. Okay, the hotel was horrible. Despite what some people say, it was clearly stated on the wedding website that this was the "discount" hotel. But, shoot, I would have stayed here because the pictures looked great on the website. But the picture didn't show shower heads rusting off and spraying lukewarm water outside the bathroom, holes in the walls big enough for a horse to walk through, toilets that didn't flush, mildewy carpet, water dripping from the ceiling, and, the worst offense possible, a SLOW computer with lethargic internet access. Warning to all the googlers out there: avoid La Casa de Sanchez! The only thing good about it was the location, which really couldn't have been better, but there were nicer places available right next door practically.
After picking everyone else up and "cleaning up" (i.e. changing hotel rooms), the bus took us on an eternal ride to downtown Lima that took probably two exhaust-fume-filled hours to get to. The fumes from the ride were so bad that somehow I got an earache with a lot of pressure when we finally arrived. Two hours later, it was gone. It was horrible, frustrating, and made everyone want to gag, which ruined the mood of lovely downtown Lima at night.
On top of that, it was raining for the second day in a row at night. We called the wedding planner who told us that if it rained, we were pretty much screwed because the wedding tent was already up and they couldn't put the rain cover on after it's already up. Man, we were praying for good weather the next day!
Luckily, the last stop downtown turned out to be great for the guests and kind of changed everyone's mood - mine at least! There are some lighted fountains downtown that are just gorgeous and a lot of fun to visit. It sounds boring, but they really are worth visiting if you going to be in Lima at night. Some of them you can play in if you are a child or child-like (i.e. a certain Italian), though a change of clothes is recommended because it can get chilly when you're drenched in the Lima desert-climate at night.
After this, we headed back to the hotel and dropped off Erika and her mom at the apartment, the last time I saw her before the wedding.
J. Riley, pictures will be linked in the next post
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Back Online
I just got back home to Lima and am recovering from my wedding, honeymoon, etc. and will share some stories about it all when I feel like it. I get home this weekend on Saturday night, so I will have some time to write about some stuff on Sunday - my day of rest before returning to the boredom of everyday work! Some quick notes about everything though;
So, stay tuned. Pictures and videos will have to wait since my camera is staying in Peru for one more week with the lady of the house!
J. Riley, and I´m spent!
- I was thrilled that those of you who attended the wedding came! I had a great time and I don´t think that the wedding could have gone any better. You can blame Erika for that, she spent a lot of time getting things ready! In my unbiased opinion, it was better than I expected and the best wedding I have been to!
- We did a couple tours around Lima to show some sites to the gringos and I think it worked out well that way. Renting a bus was definitely the way to go, especially since people got to sit next to new people and by the end of the day trips, everyone knew everyone else, which was just perfect.
- Like always, I had a lot of fun in Brazil, though the trip was definitely different in style to the other trips. Daniel and Kelly and their family were excellent hosts and showed us Sao Paulo, the Carneval parade in Sao Paulo (AMAZING!), and the beach town of Peruibe, where we spent hours talking by the pool, drinking beers, barbequing, trying to find places not overwhelmed by Paulistan tourists (impossible during the Carneval holidays), and walking through the flooded streets up to my knees (or higher)
So, stay tuned. Pictures and videos will have to wait since my camera is staying in Peru for one more week with the lady of the house!
J. Riley, and I´m spent!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Who Cares if a River Runs Through It!!
You know, the subway can get real boring at 10:00pm on a Saturday night. I took Erika to the airport tonight so she could head back down to Peru. No, I didn't make her take the AirTrain, but only because her bag weighed twice my body weight. But I sure as hell took the AirTrain home and spent the 30 minute subway ride calculating the most efficient way for me to get back home. The most convenient option would be to take the train to my office and then take the bus to my doorstep. But that bus only runs every 30 minutes, so my timing would have to be perfect. Another option would be to take the train to Jackson Heights, transfer to the 7, and then transfer to the N/W to Astoria at Queens Plaza. Or take it to my office, walk five minutes, transfer to the 7 to the N/W to Astoria. All good options.
Watching my watch tick every minute, I calculated that I would actually arrive at my office at exactly the time the bus would arrive! It would be a close call, so I got off the train and sprinted to the exit only to see the bus a block past, son-of-a-bitch! Hell, I was five minutes away from the 7-train in the greasy chop-shop neighborhood that I work in, so I figured I'd just walk to the N/W instead of walking to the 7 - even though it's below freezing.
Then the night got interesting. Eyeballing my watch when I got five minutes from the N/W train, I calculated that the next bus would actually be arriving in 20 minutes. Doing math in my head, it would take me 5 + 5 + 10 minutes (assuming that the train would come exactly when I got there, which it never does) to get home on the train. Intriguingly though, the bus stop had a fire hydrant next to it that was leaking, causing a massive ice buildup, flooding the street corner, and causing even more ice to build up. It was quite gnarly, and I was in an artistic mood to sit and watch the ice buildup, hoping that some gypsy cabs would nail that puddle, spraying the sidewalk that had three inches of ice built-up from other gypsy cabs nailing the puddle. So I decided to sit and wait for the bus to take me home.
Being a good citizen and realizing that the world is running out of clean, drinkable water (fact!), I called in the leaking hydrant to 3-1-1, the second or third time I've called them. The last time I called them was in Manhattan when a god-damn car alarm kept going off outside my window in the middle of the night. Nobody ever showed up that time, not surprising. But I was bored and the call was free. So I sat, and waited in good confidence knowing that I would be entertained by huge splashes of water/ice and that the buses were running on time because it's late at night and no one takes the bus at this hour, so there's no delay.
Fact: Not enough people rent cars in ghetto Long Island City. I waited like 15 minutes before a car made the turn and nailed the puddle, sending a plume of water onto the icy sidewalk. It was magnificent, though belated. I saw my bus going the other way and knew that it would show up in about five minutes because it does a loop.
Fact: I was losing the feeling in my toes and I was thinking about taking the bus to the hospital to have my nose tested for frostbite because the bus was running five minutes late. I had techno pumping in my headphones and decided that I should do some sprints up and down 21st street. I would totally be that weirdo in LIC, especially with my brightly colored chuyo on my head.
Fact: The bus was STILL not there after doing a sprint up the street and back, though my toes were moderately warmer (which isn't saying much).
Fact: I waited FIFTY EFFIN MINUTES with no bus in site before I hailed a cab and threw six dollars down the drain. I hate the bus. Let it be known that I will no longer honor the buses with my presence from now on in order to protest the utter irresponsibility of the buses. Unless I walk out my apartment and see it coming. There is NO excuse for them being late tonight.
Fact: I am beginning to get feeling back in my toes now.
This incident really drove home the point that my "winter" (fall/spring) jacket is not substantial and I should use my gynormous tax return to purchase a discounted jacket (thanks, recession). But this begs the question - do I go with the long, wool, UES-style jacket, or do I keep it ghetto and real and go with the poofy North Face waterproof, down jacket that has kept Erika warm all winter? I'm likely going to go for the poofy jacket. They're on sale now at Dr. Jays, the ghetto's finest.
J. Riley, two weeks until my wedding and the disappointing gringo turnout means I don't have enough men coming to be groomsmen (thanks, recession). I guess I can rent some Peruvians!
Watching my watch tick every minute, I calculated that I would actually arrive at my office at exactly the time the bus would arrive! It would be a close call, so I got off the train and sprinted to the exit only to see the bus a block past, son-of-a-bitch! Hell, I was five minutes away from the 7-train in the greasy chop-shop neighborhood that I work in, so I figured I'd just walk to the N/W instead of walking to the 7 - even though it's below freezing.
Then the night got interesting. Eyeballing my watch when I got five minutes from the N/W train, I calculated that the next bus would actually be arriving in 20 minutes. Doing math in my head, it would take me 5 + 5 + 10 minutes (assuming that the train would come exactly when I got there, which it never does) to get home on the train. Intriguingly though, the bus stop had a fire hydrant next to it that was leaking, causing a massive ice buildup, flooding the street corner, and causing even more ice to build up. It was quite gnarly, and I was in an artistic mood to sit and watch the ice buildup, hoping that some gypsy cabs would nail that puddle, spraying the sidewalk that had three inches of ice built-up from other gypsy cabs nailing the puddle. So I decided to sit and wait for the bus to take me home.
Being a good citizen and realizing that the world is running out of clean, drinkable water (fact!), I called in the leaking hydrant to 3-1-1, the second or third time I've called them. The last time I called them was in Manhattan when a god-damn car alarm kept going off outside my window in the middle of the night. Nobody ever showed up that time, not surprising. But I was bored and the call was free. So I sat, and waited in good confidence knowing that I would be entertained by huge splashes of water/ice and that the buses were running on time because it's late at night and no one takes the bus at this hour, so there's no delay.
Fact: Not enough people rent cars in ghetto Long Island City. I waited like 15 minutes before a car made the turn and nailed the puddle, sending a plume of water onto the icy sidewalk. It was magnificent, though belated. I saw my bus going the other way and knew that it would show up in about five minutes because it does a loop.
Fact: I was losing the feeling in my toes and I was thinking about taking the bus to the hospital to have my nose tested for frostbite because the bus was running five minutes late. I had techno pumping in my headphones and decided that I should do some sprints up and down 21st street. I would totally be that weirdo in LIC, especially with my brightly colored chuyo on my head.
Fact: The bus was STILL not there after doing a sprint up the street and back, though my toes were moderately warmer (which isn't saying much).
Fact: I waited FIFTY EFFIN MINUTES with no bus in site before I hailed a cab and threw six dollars down the drain. I hate the bus. Let it be known that I will no longer honor the buses with my presence from now on in order to protest the utter irresponsibility of the buses. Unless I walk out my apartment and see it coming. There is NO excuse for them being late tonight.
Fact: I am beginning to get feeling back in my toes now.
This incident really drove home the point that my "winter" (fall/spring) jacket is not substantial and I should use my gynormous tax return to purchase a discounted jacket (thanks, recession). But this begs the question - do I go with the long, wool, UES-style jacket, or do I keep it ghetto and real and go with the poofy North Face waterproof, down jacket that has kept Erika warm all winter? I'm likely going to go for the poofy jacket. They're on sale now at Dr. Jays, the ghetto's finest.
J. Riley, two weeks until my wedding and the disappointing gringo turnout means I don't have enough men coming to be groomsmen (thanks, recession). I guess I can rent some Peruvians!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Countdown Begins
I've been doing stuff lately, I swear. Despite severe cutbacks in my family budget (that would be Erika and I), we've been trying to have some fun. Unfortunately, the weather is not cooperating and it has been ridiculously cold this winter. Last year, I bought a new "Fall" coat and I was amazed because I actually went through the whole winter using that coat, so I basically tossed my torn and shredded full-length Manhattan wool jacket and settled on this coat. Well, either last year the effects of global warming were in full effect (to be honest, Bush was still in office), or this year global warming has begun receding (to be honest, I did change a light-bulb in our apartment to one of those low-energy ones and have flown a lot less), because it's been damn cold. It's possible that that wool coat I threw out is buried in my Goodwill closet somewhere and might need to be dug up.
The budget is severely restricted for obvious reasons. Mostly because my company, once the largest bank in the world, is on the verge of bankruptcy. That's not a good thing for my job prospective, and thus my income. Plus, I am doing everything I can to make sure that developing nations remain financially solvent (hey, I do have an investment in ADRE) by spending money in preparation for my upcoming wedding in Lima. The only benefit to this economic situation in the U.S. right now is that sales are amazing at places like Macy's and Bloomingdales, so I have been able to construct my wedding wardrobe for pretty cheap. $500 suits? $160. Studly $90 tie? $38. $45 button-up, slim-fit white shirt? $17. $30 belt? $16. Not bad for a wedding outfit. I will also utilize the developing nation discount for further items in about two weeks. I plan on stocking up on $2 crew-neck undershirts at the infamous Gamarra market in Lima to replace my once-white, now off-white/yellow discount undershirts that I bought a few years back.
Erika has been doing her part as well, as she ticks off each box in preperation for the wedding every day, utilizing those event-planning skills, Skype, and her mother to great effect. The gringo turnout for the wedding remains to be determined, but we are confident that we will have at least critical mass and have some fun events in mind pre-and-post wedding- notably EATING some wonderful food.
Unfortunately, not everything has gone perfectly as I received my wedding band in the mail this week from my mom, only to find that it doesn't even fit me. I forcibly made it fit when I got it and then as I began to feel the pain in the finger after about 5 seconds, I had to run to the bathroom and use a lot of soap and water to get the damn thing off, the whole time watching the veins in my finger pulsate as the ring starved them and my whole finger of blood. So, it's getting shipped all the way back to California so that they can order me a new one a little bit bigger. When they measure my finger with the loops, why can't they be accurate? Makes me suspicious, for sure.
For Christmas, I got a book called Musicophilia that I've been reading lately. It's a non-fiction about a brain doctor who studies the effect of music on the brain and it is quite cerebral (see what I did there - pun slightly intended). I'm not too far in it as I typically do my reading at night before I got to bed and reading paragraphs that use words like (and I just picked a random paragraph) amusia, disorders of skill, synesthesia, and brain lesions is not exactly light reading. Most of what I have read so far has had to do with musical hallucenations in patients, but it has had one significant impact on me - the more and more he talks about music, the more and more fascinated I am becoming with classical music. I remember going to some classical shows at Carnegie Hall and hearing these older, Upper East Side types talking about how moving the music was and how excited they were by the music, while I'm sitting there thinking about what is going on in the viola players mind and where they ate last night for dinner. In short, I'm intrigued by the power of this classical music on the brain and have actually started listening to it at work since I've always been able to listen to it without becoming distracted by it - similarly to listening to house/trance music while writing code back in college. Plus, Euros love classical music, so I should be listening to it anyway.
In other news, Erika and I are throwing around the idea of moving to another part of Astoria, becoming disenchanted with the excessive rent of the apartment we are in. I moved into this building because it is newer and supposedly nicer than most other places in Astoria, and therefore pay at least $200 more a month in rent. In reality, although it is nice having the recycling outside of our door, we suffer through freezing nights and days and having to walk ten minutes to get to the subway. We love Astoria, and it is nice being close to the parks in the summer (free capoeira!), but I should really be paying less out here. And the kicker? They sent me a rental agreement for next year, raising my rent roughly $100 to $1800 per month. I checked their website and they are offering the same exact apartment on the 15th floor, facing Manhattan (awesome view from there) and are charging $1600 for it - $100 less than we are paying now. You bastards aren't going to get away with that! We're in a recession, for crying out loud! I could be in the unemployed line next week!
J. Riley, now back to listening to the classical/flamenco guitar hero playing on iTunes Radio...
The budget is severely restricted for obvious reasons. Mostly because my company, once the largest bank in the world, is on the verge of bankruptcy. That's not a good thing for my job prospective, and thus my income. Plus, I am doing everything I can to make sure that developing nations remain financially solvent (hey, I do have an investment in ADRE) by spending money in preparation for my upcoming wedding in Lima. The only benefit to this economic situation in the U.S. right now is that sales are amazing at places like Macy's and Bloomingdales, so I have been able to construct my wedding wardrobe for pretty cheap. $500 suits? $160. Studly $90 tie? $38. $45 button-up, slim-fit white shirt? $17. $30 belt? $16. Not bad for a wedding outfit. I will also utilize the developing nation discount for further items in about two weeks. I plan on stocking up on $2 crew-neck undershirts at the infamous Gamarra market in Lima to replace my once-white, now off-white/yellow discount undershirts that I bought a few years back.
Erika has been doing her part as well, as she ticks off each box in preperation for the wedding every day, utilizing those event-planning skills, Skype, and her mother to great effect. The gringo turnout for the wedding remains to be determined, but we are confident that we will have at least critical mass and have some fun events in mind pre-and-post wedding- notably EATING some wonderful food.
Unfortunately, not everything has gone perfectly as I received my wedding band in the mail this week from my mom, only to find that it doesn't even fit me. I forcibly made it fit when I got it and then as I began to feel the pain in the finger after about 5 seconds, I had to run to the bathroom and use a lot of soap and water to get the damn thing off, the whole time watching the veins in my finger pulsate as the ring starved them and my whole finger of blood. So, it's getting shipped all the way back to California so that they can order me a new one a little bit bigger. When they measure my finger with the loops, why can't they be accurate? Makes me suspicious, for sure.
For Christmas, I got a book called Musicophilia that I've been reading lately. It's a non-fiction about a brain doctor who studies the effect of music on the brain and it is quite cerebral (see what I did there - pun slightly intended). I'm not too far in it as I typically do my reading at night before I got to bed and reading paragraphs that use words like (and I just picked a random paragraph) amusia, disorders of skill, synesthesia, and brain lesions is not exactly light reading. Most of what I have read so far has had to do with musical hallucenations in patients, but it has had one significant impact on me - the more and more he talks about music, the more and more fascinated I am becoming with classical music. I remember going to some classical shows at Carnegie Hall and hearing these older, Upper East Side types talking about how moving the music was and how excited they were by the music, while I'm sitting there thinking about what is going on in the viola players mind and where they ate last night for dinner. In short, I'm intrigued by the power of this classical music on the brain and have actually started listening to it at work since I've always been able to listen to it without becoming distracted by it - similarly to listening to house/trance music while writing code back in college. Plus, Euros love classical music, so I should be listening to it anyway.
In other news, Erika and I are throwing around the idea of moving to another part of Astoria, becoming disenchanted with the excessive rent of the apartment we are in. I moved into this building because it is newer and supposedly nicer than most other places in Astoria, and therefore pay at least $200 more a month in rent. In reality, although it is nice having the recycling outside of our door, we suffer through freezing nights and days and having to walk ten minutes to get to the subway. We love Astoria, and it is nice being close to the parks in the summer (free capoeira!), but I should really be paying less out here. And the kicker? They sent me a rental agreement for next year, raising my rent roughly $100 to $1800 per month. I checked their website and they are offering the same exact apartment on the 15th floor, facing Manhattan (awesome view from there) and are charging $1600 for it - $100 less than we are paying now. You bastards aren't going to get away with that! We're in a recession, for crying out loud! I could be in the unemployed line next week!
J. Riley, now back to listening to the classical/flamenco guitar hero playing on iTunes Radio...
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Thanksgiving Week: Wrapping Up the First Day
After my wonderful haircut earlier in the day, we had a lunch/dinner date at Erika's cousin's house, which was nearby. Erika had told me that Orfelinda (Orfi) takes very good care of her mom when she's gone and is a great cook. Eating is high on my list of favorite activities in Peru, so I was definitely looking forward to this event.
We walked over to her house up a rock-strewn dirt road near the highway and I was blown away when we got to her house. It looked pretty much like a normal house from the area, but after walking in, it was a really nice house with carpet, living room, big glass windows between the rooms, it was really nice. And Orfi was there preparing a FEAST for us: potato and chip appetizers, tequenos with guacamole, arroz con pato (rice with duck), salad, and mousse de lucuma for dessert. Normally, I won't be caught dead eating salad because of the problems with the water there, but I was assured that this was a fully organic salad and everything was cleaned with bottled water, which is how she prepares all of her food. I was still doubtful, but figured I'd give it a fair review and, sure enough, I can proclaim her food gringo-friendly!
And given that it was a celebration type of meal (for my arrival, of course ;o), there were some fine beverages, such as passion-fruit/pisco (pisco sour, with passion fruit replacing the sour) cocktails, and oh boy, was there wine. And more wine. And then some more wine. We were having a grand old time, everybody was laughing and having fun, my Spanish was better than ever, and there was even some dance moves being thrown down to the Peruvian folk music that was being blasted. Once we finished her four bottles of wine, her husband then went down and bought four more bottles from the local liquor store. Man, was that day a riot.
Seeing as how we had to get up at 3:30am the next morning to head to the airport, the sober person at the table (her mom) was smart enough to make us head home at around 9:00pm before too much damage was done. Lucky for us, waking up wasn't so bad because the drinking was spread over six hours or so and we stayed well-hydrated all day. We had to be ready, we were heading out to Cajamarca that morning for the main-event trip!
J. Riley, there are rumors of a pre-wedding meal/cultural experience at Orfi's house being offered for Friday night...
We walked over to her house up a rock-strewn dirt road near the highway and I was blown away when we got to her house. It looked pretty much like a normal house from the area, but after walking in, it was a really nice house with carpet, living room, big glass windows between the rooms, it was really nice. And Orfi was there preparing a FEAST for us: potato and chip appetizers, tequenos with guacamole, arroz con pato (rice with duck), salad, and mousse de lucuma for dessert. Normally, I won't be caught dead eating salad because of the problems with the water there, but I was assured that this was a fully organic salad and everything was cleaned with bottled water, which is how she prepares all of her food. I was still doubtful, but figured I'd give it a fair review and, sure enough, I can proclaim her food gringo-friendly!
And given that it was a celebration type of meal (for my arrival, of course ;o), there were some fine beverages, such as passion-fruit/pisco (pisco sour, with passion fruit replacing the sour) cocktails, and oh boy, was there wine. And more wine. And then some more wine. We were having a grand old time, everybody was laughing and having fun, my Spanish was better than ever, and there was even some dance moves being thrown down to the Peruvian folk music that was being blasted. Once we finished her four bottles of wine, her husband then went down and bought four more bottles from the local liquor store. Man, was that day a riot.
Seeing as how we had to get up at 3:30am the next morning to head to the airport, the sober person at the table (her mom) was smart enough to make us head home at around 9:00pm before too much damage was done. Lucky for us, waking up wasn't so bad because the drinking was spread over six hours or so and we stayed well-hydrated all day. We had to be ready, we were heading out to Cajamarca that morning for the main-event trip!
J. Riley, there are rumors of a pre-wedding meal/cultural experience at Orfi's house being offered for Friday night...
Friday, December 05, 2008
Thanksgiving Week: Barber Shop
Ahhhh, Thanksgiving week: A time for cold weather, hanging out with the family, shopping, and eating an inappropriate amount of delectable treats and meals given your body mass. It happens every year for me, with little exception. There were some minor logistical differences this year, in addition to the fact that I didn’t eat any turkey.
This year, not unlike last year, I took a few days off and migrated south in search of warmer weather. Like always, I found it in Lima, Peru where my wife had been for the month, planning our wedding. We had plans to fly up to the northern city of Cajamarca (historical note: it was the city where the Incas first made contact with the Conquistadors in the 16th century) and experience the distinct culture there and visit her extensive family that still lived in the area after both of her parents had moved away to the big city of Lima. But before we left, we had a day to kill.
One of Erika’s, like most girls I suppose, favorite things to do was to go to get her hair cut by her gay hairdresser and get her nails and toes done at the beauty salon. You could spend about three hours at the beauty salon getting full manicures and pedicures and massages done and walk out paying less than $10, it’s so cheap there. She had joked with me a few times that men could be found in such places and that I should give it a try. At risk of being mislabeled, I asked myself, “WWDBD?” Of course I knew the answer to that. David Beckham would get a haircut, a manicure, and a pedicure! I had arrived sufficiently shaggy, without a haircut for a few months and had worn my retainer enough the week before to prevent me from chewing my fingernails until they bled, so I was totally focused on getting a suave new haircut from a gay guy and having beautiful fingers and (maybe) toes when I met her extended family.
The only problem was, we had some errands to do, Liverpool was playing soon, the beauty salon to go to was a good 1.5 hours away on “mass” transit, and we had dinner (more like lunch) plans with some of her relatives nearby. CRAP - all that preparation work for nothing. But I REALLY NEEDED a haircut, and Erika told me I could go to her dad’s local shop to get a haircut. Her dad always looks presentable and I had never been to a, shall we call it, “lower income” barber shop before. So of course I would give it a try. I am generally of the opinion that nobody even notices that you’ve had a haircut except for you, so a “bad” haircut that anybody notices is extremely rare. On top of that, they told me the haircut would cost me S./3. That’s ONE DOLLAR, people. Holy crap, that’s awesome.
So off to the barber I went. Erika went with her mom to exchange some dollars for Soles, and I was actually called up by the cute barber while they were gone. My Spanish skills + her lack of bilingualness + describing how to cut my hair: Not good! Where the heck was Erika and why was she taking so long? Well, somehow I described how I wanted my hair cut and Erika came back shortly to further refine any instructions so all things turned out pretty well. This was the first time that I had gotten a haircut from a barber who actually used scissors – as in the kind you buy at Office Depot – along with the electronic shears. She finished it off with the old fashion shave on the edges – you know, the shaving cream along with a slightly dull, possibly rusty, non-disinfected straight edge. It was quite awesome and a decent haircut to boot. When I finished, I looked down at the few morsels of blond hair clumped together on the floor with all the black/dark brown hair with pride and threw down S./ 5 ($1.66) for a job well done.
This year, not unlike last year, I took a few days off and migrated south in search of warmer weather. Like always, I found it in Lima, Peru where my wife had been for the month, planning our wedding. We had plans to fly up to the northern city of Cajamarca (historical note: it was the city where the Incas first made contact with the Conquistadors in the 16th century) and experience the distinct culture there and visit her extensive family that still lived in the area after both of her parents had moved away to the big city of Lima. But before we left, we had a day to kill.
One of Erika’s, like most girls I suppose, favorite things to do was to go to get her hair cut by her gay hairdresser and get her nails and toes done at the beauty salon. You could spend about three hours at the beauty salon getting full manicures and pedicures and massages done and walk out paying less than $10, it’s so cheap there. She had joked with me a few times that men could be found in such places and that I should give it a try. At risk of being mislabeled, I asked myself, “WWDBD?” Of course I knew the answer to that. David Beckham would get a haircut, a manicure, and a pedicure! I had arrived sufficiently shaggy, without a haircut for a few months and had worn my retainer enough the week before to prevent me from chewing my fingernails until they bled, so I was totally focused on getting a suave new haircut from a gay guy and having beautiful fingers and (maybe) toes when I met her extended family.
The only problem was, we had some errands to do, Liverpool was playing soon, the beauty salon to go to was a good 1.5 hours away on “mass” transit, and we had dinner (more like lunch) plans with some of her relatives nearby. CRAP - all that preparation work for nothing. But I REALLY NEEDED a haircut, and Erika told me I could go to her dad’s local shop to get a haircut. Her dad always looks presentable and I had never been to a, shall we call it, “lower income” barber shop before. So of course I would give it a try. I am generally of the opinion that nobody even notices that you’ve had a haircut except for you, so a “bad” haircut that anybody notices is extremely rare. On top of that, they told me the haircut would cost me S./3. That’s ONE DOLLAR, people. Holy crap, that’s awesome.
So off to the barber I went. Erika went with her mom to exchange some dollars for Soles, and I was actually called up by the cute barber while they were gone. My Spanish skills + her lack of bilingualness + describing how to cut my hair: Not good! Where the heck was Erika and why was she taking so long? Well, somehow I described how I wanted my hair cut and Erika came back shortly to further refine any instructions so all things turned out pretty well. This was the first time that I had gotten a haircut from a barber who actually used scissors – as in the kind you buy at Office Depot – along with the electronic shears. She finished it off with the old fashion shave on the edges – you know, the shaving cream along with a slightly dull, possibly rusty, non-disinfected straight edge. It was quite awesome and a decent haircut to boot. When I finished, I looked down at the few morsels of blond hair clumped together on the floor with all the black/dark brown hair with pride and threw down S./ 5 ($1.66) for a job well done.
J. Riley, this is the first half of the first day? I've gotta lot of writing to do!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Visa Interview, and All That Jazz....
This week has continued the chronological trajectory of the past few weeks of being both amazing and busy at the same time. I arrived back in Lima on Saturday morning with the ultimate goal of securing Erika's paperworks that will allow her to come to the United States on her 29th birthday, Friday 4/18.
Because of the short notice of the trip, and a suffering budget, I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to get a private apartment for the week and thus decided to stay at her parent's house and work from her small bedroom, where her internet connection is. My boss was generous enough to allow me to work from Peru all week and allow me to continue my stingy-ness with vacation that was honed over the past few years when I had two weeks of vacation per year.
Saturday we had to run a few errands around town before the evening plans began, which were of course going out with her friends to some discos. Last month, I had done pretty much the same, going to an all-night party after arriving fresh off a red-eye flight and I was fearful of the same this time around. But this time, they decided they wanted to go to a karaoke bar after the first disco was found to be a dud. Normally I'm not opposed to karaoke bars (as some of you Def Leopard fans know) and this time I obliged again but something about the combination of a dark constrained atmosphere and songs in Spanish that I never even heard of and that all pretty much sounded the same caused me to hit a wall at about 1:00am. Somehow I suffered through two more hours at this location nearly falling off my chair sleeping a few times. I just didn't have it in me! I did manage to croon out Come Together from the Beatles which woke me up for a bit before I failed miserably at Jack Johnson's Flake to end the night. I guess I didn't realize how hard that song would be - notably the ending!:o/
Sunday had a lot in store for us. Besides missing Liverpool's game at 7:45am in order to get some extra sleep, we had an 11:30 meeting with our wedding planner so that I could meet her and, more importantly for her I suppose, so I could throw down some cash as a deposit for her services. For those who haven't heard, we have changed our wedding date to 2/14 to coincide with my sister's school schedule. As a coincidental, accidental bonus (not to manage the added cheese factor), this happens to be Valentine's Day which makes is great for all the bleeding-heart romantics!
Post wedding planner reservation, we headed back home where I was fed very well by her mom (not for the first time, I should add!) before we had to depart for the mammoth event of the day - for me anyway: Allianza Lima vs. Sporting Cristal soccer match at the natinoal stadium! I'd submitted my request to see a pro football match down here to Erika a few weeks back because I know the crowds are crazy and dangerous and that makes it pretty exciting! I was hoping to see gangs of hooligans roaming the streets striking fear into the fans of the opposing team, fights, police in riot gear charging the line of hooligans, etc. While the atmosphere was tense outside the stadium, it wasn't quite as volatile as I would have wanted, but there were plenty of riot police everywhere and we got to see a cracking game that included a comeback from behind by the home team (Erika's dad's favorite team) against the Allianza giants. I wanted to attend another one on Wednesday night, the "Classico" match featuring the two biggest teams in Peru that surely would have been volatile, but apparently the stadium hosting that match is in the ghetto of all ghettos and Erika won't let me go. She basically said that they would steal the shoes off your feet before you stepped onto the street getting off the "combi" bus - their version of public transportation. I'll let it slide this time, though I'd love to go still!
On Monday, I worked from home during the day and after I shut up shop at 4:00pm, Erika and I went to a giant shopping center so that she could try to find some new jeans. Given the substantial price difference between clothing here and in New York, I relented and agreed to buy her two pairs of jeans that she could bring to New York. Funny enough, spending the evening at the mall together felt like the first "date" event that we've ever had. It even included eating dinner at the food court, which isn't much different than any other food court at a mall in the states except that it featured "Bembo's", which is a Peruvian burger chain with some interesting combinations like the Hawaiian burger and the Lomo Saltado (a typical Peruvian meal) burger which I ate. They had things like fried plantains, fried eggs, and other various intersting things on the burgers, The meat itself was strangely quite tasty despite being grayish in color and of course we got fries to share and all meals came with a cup of Inca Kola. I could eat at Bembos every once in a while though I'm sure it violates even more social responsibility rules than McD's or Burger King (both of which were also at the food court, of course!).
Tuesday morning I got woken up at 6:30am and I just did not want to wake up. I was soooo tired and slightly grumpy, so all the horn honking, rooster crowing, blasting reggaeton music and dog barking that defines this neighborhood wasn't the ideal way to wake up. But this was the most important day of the trip, the interview for Erika's visa at the US Embassy. So we crowded into the combi-bus at peak rush hour time, which meant that I was hanging onto a bar of questionable strength inside the bus with half my body inches away from the street on the outside of the doorway. Gotta love Lima! In any case, we made it to the embassy with all of our paperwork in hand just in time. The interview was going fine until the interviewer looked at my passport and asked what happened to my past passport (with which I had an incident last year where I kind of left it in my pants when I Washed them). I got amazingly nervous at that moment when she stared straight at me with a death-stare and said nothing for what seemed like five minutes after I told her my story. Apparently the National PAssport Agency had stamped "Replacement for a lost of stolen passport" in my new passport. Gee, thanks for the accurate statement, US Government. After taking about five minutes for me to stop sweating all over my body (and presumptively changing my skin tone from bright red to white again), things went fine and she was cordial, telling us stories about her experience with people "losing" (i.e. selling) their passports to drug dealers and stuff like that. But everything went on without a hitch and an hour later Erika's visa was approved and we were home free!!!
To celebrate after working the rest of the afternoon, we went to Miraflores that evening to try to find that second pair of elusive jeans (black) and I ended up buying her some footwear and then at Ripley bought myself an awesome spring/fall jacket and a wonderful, quality shirt for work that were both quite cheap. We went to a few more stores, but still could not find those black jeans, but we'll save that struggle for another day I guess. For now, it's back to work for your's truely!
J. Riley, Erika is out trying to find those jeans as I type!
Because of the short notice of the trip, and a suffering budget, I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to get a private apartment for the week and thus decided to stay at her parent's house and work from her small bedroom, where her internet connection is. My boss was generous enough to allow me to work from Peru all week and allow me to continue my stingy-ness with vacation that was honed over the past few years when I had two weeks of vacation per year.
Saturday we had to run a few errands around town before the evening plans began, which were of course going out with her friends to some discos. Last month, I had done pretty much the same, going to an all-night party after arriving fresh off a red-eye flight and I was fearful of the same this time around. But this time, they decided they wanted to go to a karaoke bar after the first disco was found to be a dud. Normally I'm not opposed to karaoke bars (as some of you Def Leopard fans know) and this time I obliged again but something about the combination of a dark constrained atmosphere and songs in Spanish that I never even heard of and that all pretty much sounded the same caused me to hit a wall at about 1:00am. Somehow I suffered through two more hours at this location nearly falling off my chair sleeping a few times. I just didn't have it in me! I did manage to croon out Come Together from the Beatles which woke me up for a bit before I failed miserably at Jack Johnson's Flake to end the night. I guess I didn't realize how hard that song would be - notably the ending!:o/
Sunday had a lot in store for us. Besides missing Liverpool's game at 7:45am in order to get some extra sleep, we had an 11:30 meeting with our wedding planner so that I could meet her and, more importantly for her I suppose, so I could throw down some cash as a deposit for her services. For those who haven't heard, we have changed our wedding date to 2/14 to coincide with my sister's school schedule. As a coincidental, accidental bonus (not to manage the added cheese factor), this happens to be Valentine's Day which makes is great for all the bleeding-heart romantics!
Post wedding planner reservation, we headed back home where I was fed very well by her mom (not for the first time, I should add!) before we had to depart for the mammoth event of the day - for me anyway: Allianza Lima vs. Sporting Cristal soccer match at the natinoal stadium! I'd submitted my request to see a pro football match down here to Erika a few weeks back because I know the crowds are crazy and dangerous and that makes it pretty exciting! I was hoping to see gangs of hooligans roaming the streets striking fear into the fans of the opposing team, fights, police in riot gear charging the line of hooligans, etc. While the atmosphere was tense outside the stadium, it wasn't quite as volatile as I would have wanted, but there were plenty of riot police everywhere and we got to see a cracking game that included a comeback from behind by the home team (Erika's dad's favorite team) against the Allianza giants. I wanted to attend another one on Wednesday night, the "Classico" match featuring the two biggest teams in Peru that surely would have been volatile, but apparently the stadium hosting that match is in the ghetto of all ghettos and Erika won't let me go. She basically said that they would steal the shoes off your feet before you stepped onto the street getting off the "combi" bus - their version of public transportation. I'll let it slide this time, though I'd love to go still!
On Monday, I worked from home during the day and after I shut up shop at 4:00pm, Erika and I went to a giant shopping center so that she could try to find some new jeans. Given the substantial price difference between clothing here and in New York, I relented and agreed to buy her two pairs of jeans that she could bring to New York. Funny enough, spending the evening at the mall together felt like the first "date" event that we've ever had. It even included eating dinner at the food court, which isn't much different than any other food court at a mall in the states except that it featured "Bembo's", which is a Peruvian burger chain with some interesting combinations like the Hawaiian burger and the Lomo Saltado (a typical Peruvian meal) burger which I ate. They had things like fried plantains, fried eggs, and other various intersting things on the burgers, The meat itself was strangely quite tasty despite being grayish in color and of course we got fries to share and all meals came with a cup of Inca Kola. I could eat at Bembos every once in a while though I'm sure it violates even more social responsibility rules than McD's or Burger King (both of which were also at the food court, of course!).
Tuesday morning I got woken up at 6:30am and I just did not want to wake up. I was soooo tired and slightly grumpy, so all the horn honking, rooster crowing, blasting reggaeton music and dog barking that defines this neighborhood wasn't the ideal way to wake up. But this was the most important day of the trip, the interview for Erika's visa at the US Embassy. So we crowded into the combi-bus at peak rush hour time, which meant that I was hanging onto a bar of questionable strength inside the bus with half my body inches away from the street on the outside of the doorway. Gotta love Lima! In any case, we made it to the embassy with all of our paperwork in hand just in time. The interview was going fine until the interviewer looked at my passport and asked what happened to my past passport (with which I had an incident last year where I kind of left it in my pants when I Washed them). I got amazingly nervous at that moment when she stared straight at me with a death-stare and said nothing for what seemed like five minutes after I told her my story. Apparently the National PAssport Agency had stamped "Replacement for a lost of stolen passport" in my new passport. Gee, thanks for the accurate statement, US Government. After taking about five minutes for me to stop sweating all over my body (and presumptively changing my skin tone from bright red to white again), things went fine and she was cordial, telling us stories about her experience with people "losing" (i.e. selling) their passports to drug dealers and stuff like that. But everything went on without a hitch and an hour later Erika's visa was approved and we were home free!!!
To celebrate after working the rest of the afternoon, we went to Miraflores that evening to try to find that second pair of elusive jeans (black) and I ended up buying her some footwear and then at Ripley bought myself an awesome spring/fall jacket and a wonderful, quality shirt for work that were both quite cheap. We went to a few more stores, but still could not find those black jeans, but we'll save that struggle for another day I guess. For now, it's back to work for your's truely!
J. Riley, Erika is out trying to find those jeans as I type!
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