Day of arrival

Words of the day:

suerte: luck
amabilidad: kindness
orinar: to urinate
despistado: absent-minded

Somehow I managed to arrive in Cusco without misplacing or forgetting every single thing that would enable me to arrive in Cusco.

So, there are several recommended vaccinations one must get before traveling to Peru. Being both responsible and highly interested in not catching yellow fever, I got them a few weeks ago. The travel clinic provides you with internationally recognized documentation - aka the yellow book - that you got your vaccines. Of course, I forget this in Madison. Fortunately, the state of Wisconsin maintains a public registry of vaccinations, so you can actually go to this kind of nifty website (www.dhfswir.org) and enter your name and social security number and see all your recent vaccinations in the state. So I printed my record out at my mom´s place, where I was staying prior to journeying to the St Louis International Airport on Friday. It´s not as official as the yellow book, but I figured it was better than nothing. And then I forgot to put it in the manilla folder containing all my travel documents.

So I fly to Miami, not knowing that I´ve forgotten this potentially important document, and get off the plane to discover a helpful text message from my mom letting me know that I´ve forgotten this potentially important document. Drat! Miami International Airport wasn´t exactly overflowing with internet cafes, so I descended upon the exclusive Admiral´s club, which was right above the gate where the plane to Lima was leaving. Did you know that a single-day membership at the Admiral´s club costs $50?

I asked the very nice lady who was guarding the door if there were any places in the airport where you could access the internet and print something out. It turns out the only place you can do this at Miami International Airport is at the very exclusive Admiral´s club (one day membership, $50.) She asked me what I needed it for. Then she informed me of the one day membership fee. Then she asked if I had an American Express card of one sort or another, which apparently would reduce the one day membership fee considerably. After it became obvious that I did not, she took pity on me and lead me back to the place where all the Admiral´s club members hang out - lots of pampering going on back there, if you´re wondering - and pointed me to the computers and the printer. So I somehow managed to reobtain this potentially important document. If you´re traveling through Miami, and you happen to stop by the Admiral´s club, please be exceptionally nice to the middle-aged blond woman with the eastern European accent sitting behind the desk.

In Lima I got through immigration and customs without being asked about my vaccination status. The Lima airport has a food court with a Dunkin Donuts in it. The long arm of Dunkin Donuts reaches even into the southern hemisphere. I just bought water, and sat in the food court for a little while trying to understand what was being said around me. It put me in mind of an old Steve Martin routine, in which he gripes that it´s like the French have a different word for everything.

The flight to Cusco was uneventful. However, I did something that I´m still stumped by. As the plane was landing (amidst very lush green mountains), I pulled out my manilla folder with all my travel information in it. I just wanted to check the name of my host family, as they were meeting me at the airport. I got off, collected my checked bag, and had a porter practically snatch my bags away from me to put them on a cart so that he could wheel them outside for a tip. (Note to self - be more emphatic in your ¨No, gracias¨s.) Unfortunately, my host family is nowhere in sight. I wait for a little while, during which time I am asked if I want a taxi about eighty times. I give up, and go back into the airport, where I open my carry-on bag to pull out my manilla folder, which contains the phone number for my host family and which as a result causes no small amount of distress when it seems to have gone missing. For a few minutes I just sort of stand there looking like a completely lost gringo from Wisconsin, then regroup and manage somehow to remember the address of my host family.

A taxi ride later, I´m in front of my host family´s abode. The maid lets me in, and the family themselves are not home. The Señora arrives home about ten minutes after me, thankfully, and tells me that they weren´t expecting me until tomorrow. But it´s all right; she´s exceptionally kind, as is her husband. He speaks a little English, and she speaks practically none, so she and I are like mirror images, essentially. Their home is very cozy, and my bedroom has a balcony so I can sit outside and read. They´ve already plied me with some mate de coca, which is supposedly good for altitude sickness.

Speaking of altitude sickness, so far all I have to show for it is some lightheadedness, as well as some tingling in my toes. The latter may actually be due to the acetazolamide, which is also causing me to urinate copiously. Hopefully this will be the last time I mention bodily functions at all.

As for the manilla folder, I have no idea what happened there. I either somehow left it on the plane, or put it down in the bathroom after I left the plane. Nothing in there can´t be printed out again at an internet cafe. But I think the next time I travel I´m just going to safety pin everything to my shirt sleeves, like kids´ winter gloves.

Don´t worry - the posts won´t all be quite this long. Be well, everyone.