Departure and getting back...

The holidays and my time spent mostly flew by with Christmas, New Years, and a ski trip up North, but this began to push back my departure. I NEEDED to book my flight. I was having so much fun with my friends and the comfort of home, but I had this feeling that I was just not done my experience yet. The journey was not complete and I couldn’t help but feel a still awaiting fulfillment I was going to obtain somehow. Plus, I couldn’t even picture myself getting a full time job. At last, I scheduled my flight and counted the days.

Leading up to my trip, I was distracted with busyness I had made for myself; I planned and decorated the house for my parents 25th Anniversary party, finally completed a painting for my parents (just in time for their Anniversary), saw many different groups of friends, recreational swimming, the gym, and actually started to pack. I spent time with my parents and sometimes just stayed in at night to read. These were all the distractions I had made for myself to make my departure less stressful, since 2 weeks prior a too familiar anxiety and nerves kicked in. Insomnia followed, but nowhere near the first time I travelled. I really enjoyed the time with my family friends and one person in particular. It was going to be more difficult than I thought to leave them.

When I left Canada, it was very different than my last departure into the unknown, since I was actually returning to a beach town in Peru I had made friends in. My bags were packed on time with only a few last minute additions. Getting to the airport was calm, but that changed once I had to leave my parents and I couldn’t help but cry… a lot more than I thought too. I continued to do so until customs. I look back now and realize that I was just overwhelmed by the fact that I liked what I had going in Canada and I was just going to leave, which normally isn’t what you do when you feel really happy somewhere or with someone. Deep down, I still couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of significant future endeavors that were going to happen on this journey. I called my good and wise friend Zsusua; we cracked jokes and exchanged travel stories. Her voice gave a sense of comfort and promise; I was doing the right thing. Also, I called Piero for one last goodbye.

This was hard. Very hard. I have to admit I had a quick thought of not getting on the plane, but marched on.

At my stop-over, I ate a massive salad to balance out the carbs they pack you with on the plane and talked with an Irish father, who I had trouble understanding because of his accent. I exchanged words with an Argentinean couple and briefly to a Peruvian. The plane ride was long and the food actually was not that bad. LAN Airlines gave us ear plugs and an eye mask, which I well received. I didn’t talk to the guy next to me.

I arrived late, but once got my luggage; I walked through the doors to see Nando, Piero’s cousin, and gave him a warm hug. It was really nice to see a recognizable face already. He grabbed some of my bags and Fernando, the Navy uncle, came to drive us. It was hot, humid and my clothes clung to my body. We went to Lucy’s house (Piero’s mom, Lili’s, sister and Nando’s mom) and I successfully gave them and the package from Lili. It was really nice to visit with their family over some much appreciated breakfast.

I went to the bus station with Nando and took the same bus from Lima to Trujillo as I did the first time. I found out that my friends Emily and Tito were going to meet me and go with me to Huanchaco together; I was staying at Tito’s house in a back room he had. I was very pleased to hear that they fixed it up and put in a bathroom too. Now I am going to be spoiled. I gazed out the window and watched the vegetation slip away; it faded into hills of sand and a coastal line. It was soothing to see a beautiful, clear sunset again.

I arrived late (again) and walked into the station to see my friends’ faces. When we got to the house, I was very happy to see my living space for the next little while. As you walk in, you are greeted by the living room and dining room… the kitchen is a shelf. Tito’s room was on the right and it had another adjoining room to it. Once you walk through the room, it’s open space above and you are outside with dirt on the ground. While walking down the path, you walk passed a storage room, a bathroom, a laundry hanging area, and at the end, an outdoor double sink with laundry hanging space and a potential garden; my room is across from this. I have a big window looking in towards the “garden.” I am grateful to have enough room for 2 twin beds and a night stand spaciously in-between them. Beside my bathroom (shower, toilet, sink) I have an open closet. This is really way more I could have asked for. I use the one bed to sleep and the other closest to the window act as a couch.

The next morning Emily took me to the best place to get ensalada de fruitas (fruit salad) and some kind of fruit “jugo” (juice), which is always made fresh and for cheap. This becomes my breakfast literally EVERY morning. My routine consists of bringing a book to read while I eat and get lost in its words for some time. That day in particular, Emily and I laid on the beach and I felt the warmth all over my body that I had missed so much when back in Canada. I have to admit, when I was home for the holidays, I purchased some vitamin D capsules, hoping to recreate that sunny and mood lifting feeling. If anything, they worked as a mild placebo. But now a month later, I soaked up the rays and closed my eyes (I ended up getting a burnt). We exchanged stories and I was filled in with all the newest Huanchaco gossip.
We ended up running into 2 guys, who were there before, one a volunteer previously, and both had come back. It was a nice reunion and later was going to go to a bar called Sabes with them.

The next day was slow and mildly hungover; too much sun mixed with beer. Emily and I read books on the beach and afterwards, surfed. It was more difficult than I remembered. The waves hit me in the face and I had to dodge people, since many surfers were in the water. I struggled to catch the wave when it broke, since it was hard to paddle fast because of my weak upper body strength. I would look up and see a 12yr old boy stand up and surf past me. I didn’t catch a wave, but at least I got in the water. I went to Sabes the next night too, in order to see my Quebec friend, Raphaelle and her Peruvian boyfriend, Maycol. We warmly embrace and I got introduced to a Swedish girl, Malin. It was nice to see Raphaelle; she was my best girl friend here the first time.

The weekend arrived and on Friday there was a fundraiser party that had a live band; it had acoustic guitars, harmonica and sometimes bongos. The lead singer was Peruvian, but moved to California when he was in his early teens. His English was perfect and they covered Jack Johnson and other popular songs. Afterwards, some of us went to a bar/ disco called “Sunkella” where a live reggae band plays and I got to know 2 British boys. I saw some of my Peruvian friends and we danced the night away.

Emily woke me up in the morning to say goodbye, since she had to go back to the United States to a job she put on hold. That day got wasted away and that night was the opening Carnaval party. It was themed a Hawaiian Luau. I went to the Swedish girls’ house (there are 3 of them) and we got ready to go together. They had paint and didn’t know if this was the paint party or not. We decided to paint ourselves anyway and some people got reeeallly into it; sparkles got busted out and used too. We finished our rum and cokes and walked down the streets to Club Huanchaco. It was a party on the streets, people crowded everywhere beneath the palm trees and no traffic could even dare break through the clusters of people. We worked our way through the massive line up to get in the venue and walked into madness. There were heaps of people and you had to push through; it was as if all of Trujillo and Huanchaco was in this building, literally thousands of people. A stage was at the back and once we got our beers, we moved forward to get closer. We got onto the stairs in front of the stage where the live band played salsa and we danced and danced and danced until morning. What a fiesta!

I went sandboarding on Valentine’s day. It was Alexsandra and Malin (Swedish), Raphaelle, Maycol, and this guy nicknamed “Travolta,” who drove us in an orange, half running, pick-up truck. We drove towards a remote spot outside of Trujillo. I stared out at vast cane fields and little hut houses next to farmland. The truck bumped along the rubble and dusty roads and every rock or pot hole felt underneath us. We got lost a little and had some car trouble, but luckily everything got fixed and we arrived at a hill Travolta was familiar with. The sand was crisp, whitish and boiling hot. Sand hills surrounded us and got lost with the mountains behind them. There was a tree everyone could use for shade shelter. We shared shoes and took turns walking up the quicksand hill. Once on top, you felt a rush of nerves when looking down and a knot in the back of your throat from being scared. I finally went down, knees bent, slightly leaned back and your hand behind you burning while grazing the sand. I fell on my bum a couple of times, but it was better than another outcome. I sat and watched the others; all the girls confessed their uneasiness. I went down only another time. I kept having fears that grasped on to the memory of when I broke my leg longboarding. It was a nice day with everyone and the heat drained us all. We made our way back to Huanchaco and saw the most beautiful sunset yet. It was hot pink and looked like someone had taken a highlighter pen to the sky. People flooded the all the way along the beach and I saw some people point upwards. It was still busy, but somehow it slowed down because of the sunset. I have never seen this before, I wish I had my camera. It was funny how this setting was above our heads on Valentine’s Day.

Later on, I went to a BBQ that turned out a little different than expected. I had the impression that people were cooking and we would pay a set fee, but it happened to be US cooking and the place just buying the food… hmm… We got there at 10pm and it took 40 minutes to get the fire starting. The boys’ set it up wrong and I had to intervene by rearranging it and explaining the solid method of the “TeePee.” I helped make the salad and cook the potatoes and prepare them. The guys did the meat… and there was a lot of it. We had a massive portion of pork, this flat sausage thing and some chicken. We set up a large table for 10 people and made even pieces.It was tasty and I ate everything, but couldn’t fit the pork in my stomach. We ended up leaving around 2am and I woke up needing to take Tums.

Nowadays, I follow the routine of breakfast and my book, yoga, practice my rusty Spanish and attempt to surf now and then. I have been helping Tito repair some wetsuits and started to draw again. I keep thinking I should be doing something grander, but this is the easy life here. I came to this, so I have to go as follows; it’s hard to slow down though. Being in back in Canada for a short time affected me more than I thought. The weekend is coming, so we’ll see what happens in the pretty and enchanting beach town of Huanchaco.