Back to Reality (by Lawrs)

Fresh Papaya -- it's in season.

Well, well, well.  It's Sunday night and we are steeling ourselves for another big week which will begin in --let me check my watch -- 11 hours.  Sophia, Krista and Isabel are in a cab on their way to school every weekday morning by 7:30, and I am out the door by 7:00.  Our days, all of a sudden, are regimented and full.  It sounds like a rough transition from the months of free-form living (for all but Krista, who has been working hard since we lighted upon this continent...), but to be honest we are all enjoying some form of a schedule.  And since our life in Peru has begun to resemble our life in Maine, we have finally submitted to our primal urges and allowed ourselves some trite, yet important creature comforts.

I came home one evening to find, ta da!  A microwave oven.



The next day I found, ta da!  A toaster.  Our housekeeper/babysitter Rosalia who was raised in a remote Andean village called Paru Paru had never seen one.  "What," she asked, "is this for?" 

Small items, but they make a big difference.  We also put the thumbscrews to our landlords and withheld rent in order to have the unfinished repairs completed.  We now have wood flooring throughout our bedroom and all the leaks have been located and fixed.  The result is a nice looking room with an odor no longer reminiscent of a Parisian urinal.  

Our handyman, Francisco, ferrying batches of molten tar up to the third floor  in an improvised pot made of a tin can and pair of vice grips.  The tar, whose odor still linger days later, is used to glue down the hardwood floor.

The interior door that separates our house from the landlord's was also falling off its hinges thanks to the months of rain.  It's made of iron and glass and by the time it was hanging from just one hinge we were starting to worry about it falling on one of our children.   We mentioned something to our Cusquenan friends Hugo and Heather over glasses of wine Friday night, and the next morning he came knocking on the door with a welder.  It's nice to have friends who are locals.  It probably would have taken us seven months to find someone to do it. 

I went down to El Molino today after staring at backpacks on the sierratradingpost website for a while.  I came down to Peru with an old and slightly broken  pack that I intended to leave for a local friend when we  departed.  Well, I began to think, why don't I just go down to Molino and see how much it will cost to fix this one.  The answer: $2.50 for everything.  This pack that I bought in 1990 for around $70 has been revived for a pittance.  

I think I will say goodnight before I fall asleep on the keyboard.  As a parting gift I offer you two photos taken on my way to the supermarket one evening.  

 

Fun at the Butcher's Shop.

 

Cusco Nocturne