Right now, I am in a internet lounge in Lima (a massive city with 8,000,000 people and tons of cars, pollution, and colors) Sitting next to me is a young woman (25) named Zoila who is trying to understand my email... let's just say I speak MUCH better Spanish than she speaks English. I know it's a bit rude to type about her while she watches, but I've never been on this side of the language confusion barrier. Might as well exploit it a little.

     Anyways, things are going well. Tomorrow, Brandon (my travel mate) and I leave for Cuzco, a smaller city (thank goodness). We will probably spend close to a week there checking out ruins, then off to the Inca Trail for a three day hike into Maccu Pichu. I'm really excited about that. The big city is already weighing on me.

     By the way, due to a storm in Houston, we had to land in Austin to refuel and thus we were 3 hours late arriving in Lima. Brandon, always the good sport, was waiting patiently for me with his chica, Patricia, who by the way is Zoila's sister... is this starting to make more sense?

     Let me explain why Brandon is the king of Peru. I arrive at the airport and he has a beautiful woman on his arm (Patricia), a place for us to stay, and a sister to introduce me to (Zoila).

     Things have gone very well with me and the sister... for example, she told me she loved me... very emotional woman. (It must be my musky odor- its very humid here- or my enchanting grin, because it's clearly not my command of the language.) I cannot reciprocate the sentiments, however, but I am having fun. My Spanish is piss-poor. I feel like the dumb, smiling friend, who has no idea what's going on. It's great Spanish practice, but imagine this scenario... It's late, you're alone in the dark, and a woman whispers something to you in your ear. You, always the romantic, have to turn on a light to check your dictionary to know what the hell was said. Very suave. Te quires, baby. "You know I love you, so why should I have to say it." Sorry, I couldn't resist.

     I just looked over and Zoila is writing in my journal, which is funny, because who knows when I'll be able to understand it. By the way, Brandon's Spanish is incredible. He rules. I'm digging the slow pace, but eager to enter a more natural environment; the smog and trash is too much. (Ha, every time she sees her name she gives me a kiss... I hope she's not tricking me and reading this word for word... if you are jab that pen into the back of my neck... no response, good)

     Sorry, this letter is scrambled, but I'm on vacation and have been trying to speak in Spanish all day.

     Oh yeah, on the plane I met a young priest and his friend, another priest... both of whom I believe were gay, I'm not positive. Anyhow, they invited me to sit with them on the flight to Lima (this is NOT why I think they are gay, by the way... in fact, my arrogance allows me to believe that I'm irresistible to all living creatures, regardless of sexual orientation). So, did you hear the one about the guy sitting between two gay priests on the airplane? Well,...um,... it was me. I told them I had the safest seat on the plane.

     Ha, the woman I'm sitting with just pointed to the word sexual and asked if it was about her and me. Sorry, I keep getting distracted... I'm getting used to apologizing, as I am often confused. But man, you should see me speak English, I am gooder than the most here.

     Having two local woman to show us around has been a good experience, as Lima is a confusing MASSIVE city with thousands of bus lines and taxis. The driving would rival any NASCAR event... at least I think it would, I can't say I've been to many a driving event in my youth. Maybe that's why I cry at Kodak commercials, too many plays at the theatre, not enough NASCAR events.