I meet my colleagues/friends, Kathy and Federica (both doctors) at Hopkins Airport (Cleveland) and we fly to Newark and board to Lima. Arrive 10 pm and are met by Oscar, a driver known to the family of one of our Peruvian docs whose family lives here.
We have brought extra suitcases (very little personal supplies for ourselves) filled with
donated medical supplies (antibiotics, parasite meds, meds for dry eyes, prescription eyeglasses, pain meds, etc.) and oh, no -- one is missing. The authorities at the airport want
more and more info and documentation (we have documents in each suitcase, copies back in the States, medical licenses, are registered with the State Department and the Peruvian Embassy, and yet we're held up for an hour explaining ...) Our driver, as we come to see with
most Peruvians, is abundantly patient. Big delay. Photocopying of passports, much papelejo ...
Prep for trip had been a sin fin flow of photocopies of passports and credit cards, even just
to make train reservations ... yet we're still held up ....
We are allowed to leave and feel we might actually see the suitcase tomorrow and are told
to return to the special office again in the morning. We are led to the Cuban-style 40 year old
clunker. Oscar is humble and solicitous, but once installed in the car and our suitcases loaded,
the car sputters and stalls out -- won't start -- "no arranca" -- he says -- "arranca, coche, buen
coche, buen coche" he cajoles the car he wants to curse. The problem, he explains to me, is
the ratio of the mixture of gas and alcohol in the lines and we sit for an hour while we hear the engine make its pathetic and recalcitrant attempts -- choke, sputter -- "¡qué bestia!" .. he finally admits.
Why, in God's name, are we not taking other transportation, but "qué insulto sería..."
so, we wait ... incredibly "he" (el coche/bestia) starts and we go into Lima itself at 11 pm --and as we round the corners my eyes become round -- there are metal grates from street level to roof of every single side -by- side house and building. The car stops in front of one and we are greeted by a lovely man with a huge smile and he treats us like family (I had never met him before -- his brother-in-law is the evaluator of my course at the university. His wife approaches, pretty and sweet, in a wheelchair. They offer us anything we want -- food, water... we can't accept, we're zombies.
Actually, I do want water, but can't ask for it since we had a family two year episode with Giardia and I'm skittish (I opt for hot water that had been prepared for tea) . We ascend to two rooms and a bathroom that is quite different from US standards. I unthinkingly brush my teeth with the water coming out of the old spicket. oh, no ... pero, ¿qué hacer?
Across the hall is an old woman (96 yrs old) asleep and breathing heavily. After seeing
the body under the covers, I was actually glad for the loud sounds ...
Next morning, we rise, I brush my teeth with water from the airplane bottle, and use the tiolet, we can't put the paper into it, though. We have to use a waste can to the side ...
Funny feeling, abuelita is the same configuration of bumps I had seen the night before -- oh, no, no sounds.
Suddenly on the scene: two lovely senoritas who are her caretakers -- gracias a Dios, she's
rising for the day ...
We have a super -pleasant breakfast -- these people are simply good, generous, and warm ...
we are embraced by their kindness. Oscar has come back for us and we return to Lima airport to take the flight to Cusco.
