I spent the last week in a foreign country with my family. Yes, we survived and much to our surprise, we even thrived.
Our adventures are now souvenirs of shared experience. In fact, I don't know if I've ever been closer to them than when we were;
Four of us squished in the backseat of a taxi.
Struggling to order dinner in Spanish.
Hyperventilating as our bus kissed the mountain's edge.
Dealing with bouts of altitude sickness.
Catching a red eye devoid of reclining seats.
Obviously, postpartum is a real condition, but now I wonder if there is post-trip syndrome? Depressed by the normalcy of my routine, I longed to return.
Someone once said, "We travel, not to escape life, but for life not to escape us." I've definitely been bitten by the travel-bug.
Back in the states, I've been stunned to find that I missed my family. Sure, I am still home for the summer, but overseas, we could only rely on each other.
What once would've felt like familial claustrophobia now seems a welcoming comfort, who am I?
So what took place on this once-in-a-lifetime trip? Well, I am glad that you asked.
Our first night, we flew into Lima, Peru at 10 PM. After procuring a taxi van, we drove to the district of Surco. Upon arriving at our hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn, my siblings and I played with our room's high tech lights.
By placing your card in the console near the door, you simply tapped the remote built into the walls to turn on/off each overhead light or lamp. Let's blame sleep deprivation for the fact that this technology kept us busy much longer than it should have.
Honestly, our hotel was pretty luxurious, especially in Lima!
Typically, Peruvians are rejuvenated by afternoon siestas and cafe! My first theory was that their nocturnal. Once that theory fell flat, I convinced myself that they created breakfast at midnight.
Luckily, our hotel was on a backstreet so there were little to no traffic. Usually, one would spend the Peruvian night listening to clown-car horns till the wee hours. No beep-beep was heard, which was a blessed relief.
During our trip's conception, I worried my siblings with tales of traditional, Peruvian hotels. There were bathrooms with no roof, thirty degree water from the shower head and chicken claws in the refrigerator.
My sweet siblings are twenty-first century, first-world creations so I compromised true, Peruvian lodging in order for them to board the plane.
The next morning, we woke up to Lima's foggy winter. To imagine Lima, combine London's grey skies with Floridian chill. Though that may not sound picturesque, Lima is my city.
First stop was lunch at my favorite restaurant in the world, El Fogon. Unbeknownst to my old dance company, I was set to surprise them on the final day of their trip.
Five years ago, I went to Peru for the first time with the Switzerland Dance Company. For two weeks, we toured many of Lima's forty-three districts. We danced and shared our testimonies in schools, churches, on street corners and in the City Hall. Children and adults alike reacted positively to our vulnerability and stories that required no translation.
During my high school years, I traveled to Peru for three summers. On those mission trips, I felt like I'd finally found my purpose. My heart remained in Peru and not a day passes without my thoughts traveling to Lima.
Yet, a lot of life happens in five years.
Who I am has been an ongoing investigation. Some of my leads have been dead-ends and others, more conclusive findings. Over the past five years, certain individuals and organizations kept me from becoming unmoored completely; I saw my return to Peru as a reset.
I was a jumble of mixed emotions. Obviously, I was excited to see Lima and eventually visit Machu Picchu. However, I was worried that Peru would not recognize me.
Meeting my old dance company for lunch was a prime example of my anxiety. When I approached the table, though, they greeted me and the years fell away. Here was a homecoming that I sorely needed.
Over Inca corn, tacu-tacu, chaufa con pollo and tallarin con verde, I caught up with my team. The years might've physically displaced us, but our hearts recognized each other.
Lunch finished, my family then traveled to Lima's Plaza Mayor. Surrounding the Plaza is the Cathedral of Lima, the Government Palace and the market stalls selling Peruvian knick-knacks.
Last time I was here, the Pope paid a visit.
In the Plaza's center is a fountain. Once a year, they fill the fountain with Cerveza and locals bring cups to drink the beer straight from the wellspring.
As we retraced my steps from bygone years, I acknowledged how surreal it was to have my family here.
My family came to see where I'd been.
After wandering the markets, we went to Miraflores, the district abutting the Pacific coast. My siblings and I had not seen the Pacific Ocean since we were infants.
Don't stand too close or you might fall and it's a long way down. Only the waves will be there to catch you.
The cliffs of Lima are quite steep, but the salty smell of the ocean still wafts upward. Far off in the distance, a mountain juts into the surf and at its highest peak is an illuminated cross. Twinkling miles away, the cross seems like a lighthouse; reiterating the idea of God as a port in the storm.
Compared with other districts, Miraflores is terribly modern. In search of a restaurant, we walked by a Chili's and Starbucks. I wish you could've seen my Mom's eyes light up. She might sell her children for a cup of Starbucks coffee if desperate enough...
Pardon our winter wear, but we are from Florida.
Further down the coastal walkway, an adorable creperie named Beso Frances was appropriately located near a larger-than-life statue of two lovers embracing.
Public displays of affection turned into art.
Gazing at the couples round the statue, I thought of you. Your name might as well been written on the statue's inscription. Here I was, a world away, but you were still with me. Quotes littered the mosaic walls; "You are my sun," "With you, I have the world," and "Don't you know that you light up my dark?" Suffice it to say, everywhere I looked, I saw you.
The statue is an eternal embrace, but we can't hold on forever. Oddly enough, I had to travel to where I couldn't escape your image in order to stop holding on.
Mosaics are made of shattered pieces, but the picture only makes sense when you take a step back. There is beauty in the cracks!
No shrines are necessary to remember you, but a statue will do.
Hungry, we sought out a Peruvian chain, Norky's, where we feasted on their fast-food staples- rotisserie chicken and French fries with aji sauce.
Suffice it to say that my family would never flag down a taxi in New York City. As the rain started to pour, the Loveless family stalked up and down the sidewalk. We judged each taxi as Goldilocks did, too skinny, too small, too big, and finally, just right.
Our first day in Peru finished, we retired early because the next morning we had a bus to catch. Next stop, Ica!
Read Part Two to find out what awaited us there!
