Worst Week Ever

To all who have been following this you probably know that I am a rabid fan of the Cardinals of Arizona, so watching them lose the big one was none too pleasant of an experience for yours truely. We found ourselves at the Peruvian beachside wasteland of Puerto Chicama for the game, home of the longest, left-breaking wave in the world per Lonely Planet (actually incorrect since its in Brazil but whatever). It was there where my dreams disintergrated into a million little shards, just like the glass door of the hotel I slammed where we watched the game (also not true since it didn´t break into pieces, but it needed replacing nonetheless). Fortunately, I was on a beach in freakin´ Peru so it made my despair vanish much quicker than had I been back home.

Now, for the next phase of this godforsaken week. From Puerto Chicama, we headed along the coast, trying to get as close to Lima as possible without having to actually stay there. And wouldn´t you know it, we achieved our goal, but with only one tiny problem, wait let me rephrase that, one pretty major problem. The car, that Mike and others have so fondly retitled the ¨Richard Mobile¨, overheated outside the small town of Huacho while I was driving, adding greater insult to injury from the night before. So, luckily for us, people came to our aid, as they tend to do in these parts (handouts being a forgone conclusion). After 10 minutes of towing the car to the center of town to a parking garage we sought shelter, hoping that there would be a solution to our car problems the following day. The next day was spent at the mechanics addressing the situation. They assured us that with certain repairs that the car was fixable and could get us to our destination of Cuzco, 11,000 feet above sea level. That, of course was complete bologne, seeing how it only made it to the town of Ica, roughly 5 hrs later, before our next encounter with an engine that was no longer up to the task. Again, another nice man came to our rescue and towed us into the center of town where we were now ready to part ways with the car and get whatever money we could for it. Unfortunately, in Peru the only way for us to sell the car is under the table and the best deal that was presented to us was for roughly $900 US. In the end, we decided to do the right thing and simply donate the car to a local church where it was now to become their problem. We boarded a bus later that night, which would take 16 hrs to get us to our destination.

The bus didn´t come without its problems. Warning: those with weak stomachs turn your attention elsewhere until the end of this paragraph. No more than, I don´t know, lets say a couple hours, an unkown person contaminated the rear of the bus, with you guessed it, their rear. Our seats, Alex getting the worst of it, were either just in front of or ajacent to the bathroom emanating a foulness that can only be compared to Satan´s Ninth Circle of Hell. So with 14 hrs to go and the added delight of getting to watch the worst Steven Seagal movie ever made (at full blast) I began to think that a mutiny was just moments away. Eventually our sheer exhaustion got the best of us and we fell asleep, some better than others. We arrived in Cuzco close to on time and proceeded to debark as quickly as possible. I made my move quite hastily, and as a result, a terrible mistake was made. Whether it was from being so tired, sore, pissed off, or intoxicated from the gastro-intestinal fumes I had been breathing upwards of half a day, I accidentally left my DVD case on board, which also contained every one of my ticket stubs from all the museums, ruins, and other noteworthy things that we had done up to this point on the trip, all of which I had been saving to frame one day as a keepsake. After about a 10 minute bug out session, I attempted to track the case down at the bus station to no avail.

The one consolation prize to all this heartache is that we are now in the former Incan Capital/Mountain Paradise of Cuzco deep within the Andes. Things could be worse, for one, I might not even be getting to undertake the experience of a lifetime with good friends at my side had I not made a phone call one day or a myriad of other factors not taken place. One thing is for sure, the trivial things will be forgotten or just remembered for what they are, trivial, while the memories, sights, people, and comraderie will never be forgotten because of the power they possess over one´s soul. Sorry to end with such a cheesy anectdote, but its the truth. Peace out!