JANUARY 29, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON
This continues Part 2 of my first two days in Peru. Parting from the quite intriguing response of the Peruvian customs agent, I headed towards the taxi area that said legitimate (as my 2010 travel search results had suggested). The recommendation meant to look out for the registered ones and not to venture out in any unofficial looking cars. The directness of the sign threw me a little. Still it proved true and the other drivers could be avoided by their unmarked cars. This recommendation became invaluable to me in Cusco as well and when I later returned to Lima.
Despite internet connectivity issues and a dying computer, my first hours were a success. I was squared away in my hotel and the obstacles were not changing my plans.
The next day brought back normal possibilities. The sun echoed that. I was easily able to get to the now open store and arm myself with backup devices like a phone from a local company. I now had the added option of texting internationally. (I had assumed I would be on my charged computer with a working hotspot, so I didn’t feel the need for an international package on my phone plan at the time.) Ultimately, I wouldn’t need much. Between the volunteer house and the multipurpose gas station across the street, I was set to connect with everyone.
My friend and I had both stayed overnight in the highly recommended Miraflores district. She was in a nearby hostel. We connected on Skype once I was up and running and planned to meet and taxi over to the bus terminal. There was nothing daunting about the bus from Lima to Pisco, as local travelers came to have our back. They called attention to our stop to make certain we didn’t lose our way. We were okay but welcomed the confirmation. It was equal to the way some DC metro riders will look out for visitors whose unfamiliarity with the train system and their surroundings is apparent on their uneasy faces.
Four hours done. We got off the bus onto a dirt road with some street vendors and colectivos (shared taxis). It was dusk now. Colectivos were extremely apparent in and around Pisco due to their standard car size. The other rides that we came to pay for locally would be in the beetle sized tuk tuks. Our driver packed our bags into the back. It was noted on the organization’s website that drivers would instantly know if we said the house with the blue doors, the volunteer house, or some similar description. I told my new friend I was glad she was there with me (I would have been uncertain alone) and she stated that she was similarly glad for my company and that I could explain our objectives to the driver and others in Spanish. We relaxed into the vehicle. He smiled knowingly. We smiled and off we were, just a bit away from our new home.
At last, we were in front of the blue doors. Our car pulled up about the same time that several other US volunteers arrived. That was actually a rarity. Many volunteers were from Europe and the organization welcomed volunteers on any day. There was a good deal of people from the States during my stay, but never were we a majority. Australia, New Zealand, Mexico, Costa Rica, Brazil, Canada and Peru were present in addition to the influences from France, England, Scotland and Ireland. The diversity preceded and followed me until the organization was disbanded. Volunteering abroad had become even more interesting. I hadn’t realized we would bring together so much diversity.
I was still taking in the scene after just arriving. I stood just a few feet in the door. My heavy suitcase was nothing to the volunteer coordinator that lifted it onto one shoulder and ran upstairs. He returned immediately as there was no vacancy. Someone even playfully tickled his stomach as he walked upstairs. His response was just a chuckle, a mild protest and no danger whatsoever in dropping it. My friend and I would temporarily stay at a neighboring hostel that was closely affiliated with our group.
Before I retired for the night, one of my future best friends walked over to me. We talked briefly. I was still visually reconciling the volunteer video, that I’d seen a few months earlier, with what was now a leisure Friday. This was a time for volunteer socializing and regrouping, and I loved the duality of it! There was still one more half day of volunteering on Saturdays, but Friday has its place. iPods playing, laughing, talking, various games and a fire burning the chilly desert night air away.
I was intrigued to be joining the others soon but knew I needed some rest mentally and physically. My travel companion and I left for the neighboring hostel. We were able to move into the main house the next day and I realized that perspectives can change quickly. Ours related to space. We compared notes. She was now in one of the multiple occupant rooms and I was in a four-bunk bed one with just 3 other people. Just 3?! I very much appreciated this space following the limited room we were in the night before. She seemed settled as well.
My 4-person room included the close friend I had chatted with the night before. Various roommates stayed there and traveled on. My good friend left. (We would meet up later). Then, it was my turn to leave for a new journey. I sometimes forget about being wonderfully thrown off. Routines are necessary to a point but sharing this here is a reminder that I should likewise take on the disruptions. My renewal passport arrived just this past Tuesday and I’ve got some work to do.