MARCH 28, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON
I opted for the driver who was the most proactive and right away I was shocked by the shopping center, which was sprawling for the area that welcomes you to Pisco. If this was just entering the city, I could only imagine how the Plaza de Armas (the main square) must have developed. It was the area that seemed the most commercial when we were there. While I was in Lima my first day, my Pisqueño friend had prepared me for this, but of course seeing it still struck me. I had met up with him during my one day in Lima and amazingly met another PSF volunteer, who also happened to be traveling to Pisco the next day. It was a reminder that life is more mystical than coincidental. He was from Scotland. His stint in Pisco had happened to be after mine so how nice that I got the chance to add another volunteer to our big but familial network. Cool that we would also end up hanging out the next night with the organization’s cofounder/local amazing friend.
Felipe, another local friend from Pisco and now retiree, had agreed to meet up with me early on, following my bus arrival to Pisco. The 7:30 a.m. bus ride from Lima had got me there around 11:30 a.m. Felipe remembered me even more fondly than I realized, and interestingly, not from one of our construction projects, but from the additional English classes that some of us taught. He would end up sticking by me for a majority of this trip, making navigating back through Pisco even more comfortable. Indeed, the bus had delivered me so promptly to Pisco that my room wasn’t ready yet. It turns out that as I took this time to re-associate myself with the square, I missed Felipe’s initial visit to my hostel. He was early.
The hostel employee, Melissa (Meli) filled me in when I got back around 1:00 p.m. She let me know he would be returning soon. I had taken a general inventory of the Plaza, including lunch. I sent Felipe an update on messenger (we had been corresponding about logistics for several days now leading up to my arrival). We would meet at 1:45 p.m. How sweet that he had arrived earlier! I ran upstairs to prepare quickly.
He returned. He was sitting in the hostel’s cozy lobby area. I could see his profile as I passed from upstairs through the kitchen area towards him. (Meli had just called up to let me know he was back). I gave him the most interminable momentary hug possible. We were delighted. He handed me a bag with 3 mangos, that he had gotten in Ica, a city with an abundance of quality agricultural spaces. We chatted. He looked the same to me, as if it were 9 years ago. I checked the time. We had tentative plans to meet another friend of mine around 2:00 p.m. but this friend had been delayed. Felipe and I strolled outside. While we caught up and waited, I asked what he’d like to do to which he essentially answered – whatever I wanted, the world was my oyster.* The program was mine to make, he reminded me throughout my trip, and this is very symbolic of the journey I’ve decided to continue following.
I was still picking up the hostel’s Wi-Fi in the part of the plaza we were in and got an update that my other friend, Cris would be about an hour or so more. My thinking was that for the time being it would be nice to continue hanging out over some natural not overpriced organic juice while continuing to check out the city’s more modern digs. I noticed that there was quite a bit of construction going on and I’m going to say this is a sign of constant progress for both the community and the workers. I can see the improvements, but I can also see the portions with limited resources and I know someone currently who I wish I could be helping out even more. Yet all the other people that I had the opportunity to chill with do not have such issues to contend with, fortunately.
Felipe and I stepped into an open store front that housed some restaurants and I believe a pharmacy. The building wasn’t as large as much as it was tall. There were about 4 levels. We rode the elevator up and were immediately greeted by a sweet girl who I believe to be of Venezuelan descent. (Many people have moved from Venezuela to various parts of Peru because of the difficulties in their home country). She is offering a menu but I fill her in on my simple juice hankering. She was on board with this and I was excited because I saw maracuya on the menu. She returned to me, however, to say they were out. I feel like maracuya is out everywhere in DC too. Orange juice was a good substitute for me and Felipe as well as we sat, talking. We left and nearing the plaza and picking up Wi-Fi again I saw that Cris had updated me. Work was keeping him extra long and it would do the same the following day. I knew that could happen since I had arrived during mainly weekdays, but I had hope. I was correct with my aspirations. We would more than make up for it two days later. We would catch up, visit various sites and even coincidentally run into another mutual friend we had been hoping to see.
Felipe and I continued our hangout for most of the first half of the day when I received an update from the co-founder of our group to see if I was available to meet her later that night. I invited him along. She is local, born and raised, and the one who managed it all along with the Director that she and her brother had selected. This was along with additional administrative staff. Her message included that she was going to be meeting with another volunteer, Gordon who happened to be in town. Funny that I had just met him the evening before in Lima. It was unexpected that I would add another PSF volunteer to my mental rolodex and equally unexpected was that the 3 of us would come to share a nice evening (the following day), sipping beer and catching up by the new and improved Malecón (the waterfront). We had chosen there after humorously and unsuccessfully getting something to drink at a pizza place. The pizza place would have been frequented and full with us volunteers had it existed during our life there. It is now situated in the midst of our former, very familiar old stomping grounds.
The tuk tuk driver, that delivered Felipe and I there that night, started a mini argument with him before letting us go and shortly before we would see Gordon. The driver wanted a sol or so more because he had initially drove us to the wrong gas station, where we all planned to meet. This proved to be just about 30 seconds in the wrong direction so I could see why Felipe disagreed with the mistaken destination costing us so much more. I offered to pay the difference after letting them “discuss” but Felipe was treating me for my birthday. He handed the driver some more money and we were peacefully on to the next thing, standing outside, waiting. As Gordon approached, not knowing we would be there (in the spot the cofounder arranged), I softly greeted him with a “There he is.” I introduced him to Felipe. As we chatted, it was again strange but magical being back here. Standing here, across the street from the old volunteer house. It was comforting to lay my eyes on this structure once again. Yet it was odd to imagine how many of us lived in that space. It was likewise interesting to imagine all the activity that went on inside, how it was now quiet but still contained our stories.
All the dozens of exchanges and activities so far in my current visit, (like preparing myself very early for the bus ride, sweet random entertaining conversations, and some exchanges with strangers – not so sweet) had caused me to continually forget that this second day in Peru was actually my birthday. That is something I could previously not imagine ever forgetting, whether the day proved to be horrible, enjoyable or uneventful. This one was enjoyable and eventful, but I would mostly only be inadvertently reminded by my friends’ well wishes. I was taken in by a flurry of happenings and thoughts, although I had purposely planned to arrive here on this day.
The day was darkening as Felipe, Gordon and I stood. It was about 7:30, as we took it all in, filling up on the past and the now. It was again surreal to see our local mutual friend, and PSF cofounder as she at last headed our way. I started cheering before she reached our sides. We were all smiles. I believe Gordon mentioned that he had actually been there a couple years prior and he goes back regularly when work finds him in the capital city.
Felipe excused himself early on in our walk. Before we reached our first stop, he explained that he would be heading back home. This was not before leaving me with 10 soles, for what he thought I might spend for the rest of the night. I didn’t need anything but it was my birthday, I remembered again, so I think it was an additional treat for the night and to make sure I was taken care of.
Our first stop was to the aforementioned pizza place. Had it been there before, it would have been overrun by us but also had it been there, it would have definitely been out of place and out of time. It didn’t match the circumstances of our life then. As much as our surroundings had to offer us then, it was the necessities available, the vacancy of some things you realize you don’t need or miss, and the surprising availability of other items that made that time special for what it was. Yet, let me divulge as amazing as Peruvian cuisine is and always will be, it was in Pisco in 2010-2011, that pizza had not yet been perfected.
Very briefly, as a little sidestep side note here: I still suffer from a pizza deficiency from my stay in Pisco. It’s not that pizza in Peru isn’t good. I had tasty pizza there. It is just that in Pisco, at the time, where we were, as amazing as the food is, there were some ma and pa shops that got the recipe turned around. I am so impressed by the pizza shops that are there now and my friend informed me that the one in which we were chatting was good. I believe her but when we sat down and when we were handed a menu, an involuntarily voice inside me asked aloud, “Is it good?!” She smiled knowingly and again I believe her but it so happens that we weren’t hungry or wanting for anything currently but something to drink and the time and stories we had to share.
Beer was not served there (the waiter, a friend, was perhaps going to bring some back) but the lack of anything there was no matter. We were enthralled, catching up, and then we had the good excuse for a walk to our final venue, the Malecón. We would pass numerous wild dogs along the way. That was normal. I felt very at home and oddly always felt instantly at home with these dogs. I can’t explain it except that some natural part of me is wired that way. These dogs felt as natural as the birds that glide around me in DC, though they can be very dangerous.
This night proved such a peaceful one in the present moment, with our collective distinctive memories as we teased each other. As it was time for us to part, our dear local friend took special care to ensure that our respective rides to our next destinations would be safe. I had purposely gone backpackless for this night journey for I knew that it would be dark, and I may possibly find myself riding back by myself as a mere consequence of us each retreating to our respective home bases. I was correct about that, you see because, you recall, Felipe had left earlier. He and I would continue our “program” tomorrow.
Gordon was departing to the city of Paracas, Peru. Our friend pinpointed a car for him for his longer trip and a safe compact tuk tuk to deliver me back to the main plaza. She double checked that the price was okay with me. It was no problem. I blew my kisses and we made tentative plans to meet later on in my stay. Returning to the main square felt super secure. She knew the driver and his girlfriend (yes, his girlfriend was there, perfectly nestled into the space beside him with her arm resting around his waist). As we toddled along, I knew I had gotten an ideal arrangement. I leaned back, had my exact payment in my pocket ready and there was nothing I had to worry about leaving behind or hanging precariously from me. There were certain signs to look out for when traveling around, certain circumstances to avoid and I will put together the comprehensive collection but for now what stands out most is that two tuk tuk drivers (not a couple) riding up front is one ride that we were always told to avoid. Typically, you can expect there to just be one driver. Rarely did I see the former.
It was not a long ride and I bounced out in front of my hostel, pretty much like I had been back in Pisco for months instead of days. Meli asked if had my key to my room. When any guests returned, they had to unlock the main door and I think especially because she didn’t see me holding on to the big circular key chain, she wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it or left it inside. In addition to temporarily not carrying my backpack, I had especially slipped my key off the large but cute chain. Otherwise I would have been holding a very big thing in my hand that named my hostel and room number.
Continuing on, I still had a mission I was looking forward to completing over the next few days in Pisco. I was looking forward to it although I wasn’t completely sure it was possible:
Returning to Pisco, Peru Part 4
Continuing Soon
*Spanish conversations translated to English