Sobreviviendo Lima

I spent my first night in Lima in a hostel; my roommate, who woke me when she arrived at 2 am, was proof that the world is impossibly small.  She’s a Colby student; while playing the name game we soon realized that we have several friends in common.  The next morning when we were getting dressed she informed me that, whether in reality or in a dream, we had received an unexpected visitor last night.  She was convinced he had arrived around 3 am and after a quick visit had departed through the bathroom window; skeptical, I ruffled through my valuables.  Passport.  Check.  Debit Card.  Check.  Bathroom products (I brought a whole bag of these because they are so expensive in Latin America).  Check.  In the mess of my suitcase everything irreplaceable was more or less accounted for.

IFSA students and Peruvian "patas" on the first day.

Far and away orientation was my least favorite part of college.  Study abroad orientation is more relaxed, but not entirely different.  Although I must admit that Bowdoin Dining Services can’t shake a stick at “la comida peruana”.  After two “charlas” in the office about the program expectations and structure our host families arrived to pick us up.  My mother is as small as she is energetic and when we finally reached home she insisted on teaching me “los trucos de las llaves” or how to get into the house.  My key ring included three keys; my mother’s had at least ten different keys on it.  Each lock is finicky; if you don’t assertively employ the proper technique you’ll be left out in the cold (or the heat as it so happens) for hours.  Which is exactly the fate I suffered.  After over an hour, I finally learned that force wasn’t everything; proper technique, pretty similar to seducing the door, and confidence are the easiest ways to achieve success.  There is a metaphor ripe for the picking, but for now I’ll leave it at that.

The next day we had our only talk in English: “Sobreviviendo Lima”.  Considering that I have never lived outside of New England, I am relatively street smart.  But life in Lima is on a different level.  Over eight million million people, one third of the Peruvian population, live in Lima.  Lima is about the size of New York City; its one of the five biggest cities in the Americas.  It isn’t any more dangerous than American cities, but petty crime is the norm.  And unfortunately, I’ll never blend in.  We learned about different pick pocketing scams, how to prevent kidnap by taxi, and how to curse confidently in order to deflect unwanted attention.  And most importantly, we learned about “bricheros”: Peruvians who specialize in dating foreigners.   Our homework for the night was two and a half pages of Peruvian “jergas” (slang) which I completed via Nextel walkie-talkie with Diego, my oldest host brother. 

Pochy, my host mother, and I.

The following morning I went for a short run around and around the tiny Parque del Francisco Zela.  When I got home, I unlocked both the gate and the house door without a problem.