Loitering in Lima

We blew into Lima in a haze of 70s disco. Samantha Sang, 

And where are you now?  Lima

Now that I need you?  Lima

Tears on my pillow 

wherever you go…  Still Lima 

The cab radio pumped out the “best” of the 70s while G coughed and I tried to get a grasp of this city of 10 million as we drove through the dark.

The flight had been neither good nor bad. The grimy Air Canada Rouge plane didn’t have in-seat entertainment units nor electronic chargers and there was no booze even for sale during an 8 hour flight. On the other hand we didn’t plummet into the sea. Some days my bar for a good job is pretty low. We did meet an entertaining flight attendant who told us how common it was for people to die during flights (very) and that the worst flights to work are to Bucharest, Romania because few can understand enough English or French to comply with the instructions. Also, their attitude to any instruction is a solid “fuck you.” 

So here we are on the first leg of the trip. G is sleeping off her sickness at the hotel. I have found money and a SIM card and the Kennedy cat park. It’s all cats all the time. Calicos and torties to make my heart glad. Kitty fantastico! I am attracting a small amount of attention myself with my hair dyed to match Rainbow Mountain and sitting about wearing sandals in the Lima early spring. It’s 18C and they are in coats and winter boots.

My next stop is the Cocoa Cafe and Museum and then down to the oceanfront. There doesn’t appear to be anything I can eat in this city aside from chocolate. Oh well, then.

Tonight we meet our travel group and tomorrow it’s off to the Amazon.