But on the flip side

I'm sorry for whining, it's really not that bad. In fact, it's not actually bad at all. At the three month mark I finally have some semblance of a routine. Well, probably as much of a routine as you can have in a country where everything is "fluid" (in Kiko's words).

I just finished my third week of pilates! Three times a week, at 9am for an hour. I really like it - it's definitely challenging but I like the variety of workouts and I love my teacher. Maritere is Kiko's cousin's girlfriend, who I met at a wedding where she was really nice and friendly toward me, and super fun. She's in incredible shape (and has an incredible shape, sheesh!), and she's an excellent teacher. Kiko's cousin Flori also goes at the same time, and both of these lovely women will help me out in English when I obviously don't understand the instructions. I've already seen some improvement in my body and energy level, which you know is important when you are starting an exercise program and you're sore and need motivation to get out of bed!

I leave for my class at 8am, getting to the sports center around 8:15. This gives me forty-five minutes of quiet time with my book and my journal. I started this routine by accident. Kiko dropped me off early one day, and I walked over to the park, sat on a bench, and my new tradition was born. My best friend Jennie and I have just resumed our Christian book study, which is something we used to do that I have really missed. We read and make notes, which is what I do in the park (lately I've moved indoors at the sports center because of the mist) and then once a week or so we skype to discuss everything. I'm so happy for this!

This was my first full week teaching English for business executives at Nextel. One session with a high-intermediate student twice a week, and another class of three brand new English speakers three times a week.  The students were all really great, quickly learning the phrase "just kidding" when I told them they would have 10 pages of homework, all grammar! The company I work for provides the books, CDs, and additional materials I need. Early morning and after work hours make things interesting, and I may get more students in the future. But working seven and a half hours this week was a good start, and I really enjoyed teaching again.

Kiko's sobrina just finished her first international coaching class, the same one that Kiko took. As a class requirement, they needed to practice their new skills, so I gladly volunteered myself to Cinzia. At our first coaching session several weeks ago, Cinzia helped me with a goal setting exercise, and the following week, I met several of my objectives (exercise, work and book study). Our third session included lunch and shopping at my favorite discount store, so the extra benefits of being coached by my niece are getting to know her, enjoying her company and speaking English!

My days can be full if I choose them to be. The dogs go to the park or for a walk around the neighborhood three times a day. About once a week Kiko and I have lunch at my sister-in-law Marcela's house. I appreciate the invitation of hospitality, and always enjoy the large afternoon meal. Once in a while I'll meet one of my friends (Nara or Jackie) for lunch or coffee, I walk to the grocery store or Ovalo Miraflores, take a taxi to the big mall called Larcomar. I have lots of time for my "Daniel" Bible Study; catching up with friends and family on facebook, email and skype; reading; and watching Law & Order and CSI reruns. I am hopeful of meeting some new friends, and getting to know more of Kiko's family. Of course Kiko and I have fun together when we can, sharing nice dinners and movie dates, and always looking forward to a new adventure.

And now I've survived Lima on my own. Kiko had a business trip this week, leaving Monday night and not returning until late this evening (Friday). As you can imagine, I was a bit nervous about being alone here. But I have arranged all my transportation for pilates and work - our security guard referred me to a neighbor who is a taxi driver, and he has become my personal driver! I just give him my schedule and he picks me up in front of my apartment, then I take a random taxi back home. He's more expensive than flagging a taxi down from the street, but less pricey than other taxi services that you schedule in advance, and the convenience along with having the same driver is definitely worth it. I bought all my food and cooked a large pot of soup (which I ate all week long, even sharing some with the security guards!). I made it everywhere I had to go on time, I got a deal on a cute sweater for 18 soles (about $6.50), and I'm fighting off a cold (which apparently is common when the weather changes).

Seeing the flipside reminds me that no matter how much I miss my life in Corona, I have alot to be grateful for here in Peru. And my next step is finding a way to share my gratefulness with others - there's such a huge need here, and it's time for me to add this to my routine. 

I'm still not used to it

Well I've been in Peru for three months now. How long does it take to acclimate to living in a foreign (and developing) country? I expected to be adjusted by now; I've been in Peru for a three month stretch before, so I thought I'd be fully integrated into my new environment. But the other three months were only temporary. I had my plane ticket, and knew I was just visiting and would be going home. This time it's been different, knowing that I'm actually living here, even if it's not permanent. It's permanent for now.

My stomach isn't used to it. The food I eat is good, fresh, and generally healthy. I don't eat very much either, I think doing pilates has made me less hungry. But sometimes the food lets my American stomach know that its still foreign food, with annoying results. And as it's nothing I can pinpoint, I keep on eating what I like and take my chances.

My hair isn't used to it. The humidity hovers around 50%, so we have a dehumidifier in the apartment (the tray in this machine needs to be emptied of water twice a day - I don't understand). After blowdrying and straight ironing my hair, I step outside and poof! In my past life I wouldn't have cared about poofy hair as much, but I can't wear my Penn State baseball cap to work. Besides the humidity, now that it's winter it's been misting in the mornings and evenings. Not enough to use an umbrella, but enough that everything is wet, including the baseball cap.

My mind isn't used to it. Lima is so loud! It starts at daybreak with all the birds, and I love birds, but I don't remember them actually waking me up back home. Then as soon as I'm drifting back to sleep, I hear the street sweeper in front of our apartment, actually sweeping the street with a broom. Who knew a woman sweeping a street could be so loud? I'm sorry that I'm a bit bothered by her because she's just doing her job. After she moves on down the street, the vehicles start, slowly at first and with increasing frequency, until finally it's just a steady stream of motors, horns, and screeching tires. Two hours of this, right below my bedroom window, is not my favorite. 

Sometimes my mind gets tired of listening to Spanish. I'm speaking and understanding more every day, but sometimes when I'm focusing on a conversation between other people my mind gets tired and starts drifting. And everything that's written is in Spanish. Newspapers and magazines, food labels, any sign or billboard on the street or a building. Definitely not like the US where so much is in both English and Spanish.

My patience isn't used to it, but I'm trying. Shower water here is very inconsistent, and you just have to live with it. Either too hot or very cold, with a small window of warm. But I know that there are a lot of people who don't have any hot water at all. I miss my car, and the independence it allows me. I'm not brave enough to take a combi, which is a small van that gets crammed with people because it's really cheap, or even a normal size bus because I don't really understand the system. While taxis aren't that expensive (especially compared to the US), it's still something to be considered, especially now that I go to pilates and work, which is four taxi rides, costing more than I make. I'm fortunate that Kiko will often take me places or pick me up, or make arrangements with a family member to help me out. A high percentage of Peru's population must take public transportation because that's all they can afford.

I guess my heart isn't used to it either. Honestly, I miss my house, my family, my friends and my church. I'm glad to be here with my husband, and very happy that he has so many business opportunities. I'm glad that my dogs are here, too. I truly want to take advantage of all the opportunities that I have while living in Peru. I hope I get used to it soon. 

 

How Do You Say "Jacked" in Spanish?

I was just telling my friend Jackie that I've never not felt safe in Peru. Whether on the street, in a taxi, in a crowded swap meet, or in the park at midnight, I've always felt pretty secure in my surroundings. There are things that you do to protect yourself, like hold onto your purse when you're walking and don't look around like you're a tourist, and lock your door and put your purse on the floor when you're in a car. Basically you just act like you know what you're doing and try not to be obvious.


We walked to the new mall about half a mile away, Jackie with a shoulder bag and me with a small, handmade, artisan bag slung across my shoulder and underneath my sweatshirt. We first went into Tottus, the Peruvian Walmart, and then walked into the department store, Saga Falabella. We were happy about our first work experience earlier in the afternoon, and were looking for some new clothes to wear to our new jobs next week. We looked through piles of sweaters, holding them up for inspection regarding style and color, laughing and of course, speaking English. We ended up searching for clothes on the entire first floor, and with arms full, finally went into a dressing room to try things on. Only leaving our dressing rooms to stand in front of them for a quick "how does this look?", our bags really never left our sight. Which made for a huge and unwelcome surprise when I opened my little bag to see if I had enough money for the sweater I liked and found my wallet to be missing. My Blackberry and apartment keys were in there, but my wallet was gone. Jackie said that maybe I left it at home, but I knew I had it, and I knew I had snapped the bag shut. When could my wallet have been stolen? How? I was incredulous! I wanted to report it stolen, and Jackie said that we weren't going to let the theft completely ruin our day. She was going to buy a few things, including my sweater, and I would pay her her back. 


At the cash register, I was just about to ask for a manager to report my stolen wallet, when Jackie opened her bag to get out her wallet. When I discovered my wallet stolen, it didn't occur to us to check her purse, because hers has a zipper. But as soon as she said "my wallet is gone!", my heart sank. I told her to check all her pockets, which she did, and it was true. Both of us had been the victims of a pickpocket. A very good, professional pickpocket, who could unzip her bag and steal her scarf and the wallet underneath, and unsnap my little bag, stealing my wallet and leaving my phone. 


The managers and loss prevention staff were very courteous and helpful. They took us to their offices, took our reports, and helped Jackie contact her credit card companies. I was fortunate that I only had about $19. and an expired driver's license in my wallet. They told us they were looking at surveillance video, and would call us if they found anything. I thanked them for their offer of some money for a taxi, and we walked back to my place, in the dark, just after being pickpocketed yet feeling safe enough to walk, all the while asking each other how we could let ourselves become crime victims. The only thing we could come up with was that we felt safe in the store, which was just like a Macy's, and must have called attention to ourselves and let our guard down just enough to attract the thief.


I've had my wallet stolen in the U.S., and my purse, and even our car, but this incident feels different because we were targeted specifically for our looks and our language. I guess I've just joined the ranks of the countless foreigners around the world who have been taken advantage of for being foreign.

Peru Loves a Parade

We've all seen the "granddaddy of them all", the Pasadena Rose Parade on New Years Day. For many people, especially if you live in So Cal, this is the parade standard to which we've become accustomed. We also have our holiday parades, some large like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in NYC and some small, like our hometown Fourth of July parades where kids ride their decorated bikes and pull festive wagons with costumed pets. Some are wild, like Mardi Gras, and others are more subdued, Memorial Day parades for instance. Whatever the parade, there are certain elements often included, such as floats, marching bands and equestrian units. Now that I've seen a few Peruvian parades, my own view of a typical parade has changed.  

For example, the first week we were here, Kiko and I were having lunch at a cafe in Miraflores. This cafe had no door, it was open to the bustling sidewalk and busy street. We starting hearing music, it was faint at first and kept getting louder and louder until it was actually right in front of the cafe. There were people walking in front of a large, slow-moving bus which was blaring the music. They were dressed in orange t-shirts with a large "K" on the front of them, the symbol of a presidential candidate named Keiko. As they threw orange visors and little notepads to business people, workers, and shoppers walking along the sidewalk, we realized that we were watching a campaign parade. This was a main street heading into rush hour, and the parade was slowing down the traffic, but people just went on with their business as if large orange buses blasting music were an everyday occurrence.

A few week's ago Kiko and I were walking the dogs at a large park near our apartment. We saw a group of about 10 children and 15 adults, and when we got closer to them, we heard their singing and chanting. They were young students with their teachers and a few parents making a parade for a cause. The children were wearing large posterboard signs hung with yarn around their necks, and the signs said things like "Support the arts for children". They also carried balloons, and shook plastic tambourines, but it was the middle of the day so there weren't many people out to see them. It looked like they were having a good time though.

Last week I was home by myself at around 7:30pm when I heard what sounded like trumpets coming from outside. It got progressively louder, so I looked out my window and saw a group of about 100 people walking very slowly down the middle of the street. Some folks carried signs and some carried flags of various countries (I saw the U.S., Argentina, Canada, Brazil). There were musicians playing a very melancholy tune, a few kids running around and some youth with their cell phones. The focus of the parade was on the statue of the Virgin Mary being carried by four men. They were walking in the middle of the pack, until the group came to a halt at the intersection of my street and the cross street. Then the statue carriers moved to the front of the parade. At this time I noticed a motorcycle police officer stopping traffic and making vehicles turn around, which was causing problems as this time of the evening is still hora punta (rush hour). In fact, as soon as the police officer wasn't looking, a taxi went through the intersection, narrowly missing a few participants, but that got the ball rolling and more cars went through, so the officer gave up and started directing traffic instead of stopping it. Someone with a bullhorn was giving a speech, then it sounded like the entire group was saying a prayer. Finally the men holding the statue started walking, and the rest of the group followed along behind, all very slowly. The parade blocked the entire street, and the cars behind them were now out of luck. There was honking from the cars trying to get through, and the melancholy song started up again. I'm not sure who was supposed to be reading the signs they were carrying because it was dark, and everyone passing by was probably just concerned with getting home.

When I was here a few years ago we were driving through a mining town and came upon a parade. Well, it was actually a protest, which is a type of parade anyway. The hundreds of workers from the mining company carried banners about their rights, and the police helped direct the vehicles trying to pass on the only road through town. During that trip I also experienced a cow parade, which really wasn't a parade at all, as the life-size plaster cows were stationed outdoors throughout Lima for a few months. It was more of an art festival, where different Peruvian artists painted a cow for display before ultimately being auctioned off for charity. I really enjoyed seeing this "parade" in the parks around the city, and found out that it's an international, ongoing event (check it out at http://www.cowparade.com/).

Maybe this summer you'll make plans to watch or participate in a parade. Here in Peru, you never know where, when, or what kind of parade will appear!

La Cena Mistica

Thank goodness my husband Kiko is Peruvian! As an expat, I experience Peru quite differently from foreigners here without a Peruvian expert. I've been able to reap the many benefits of his Spanish fluency, cultural knowledge, driving prowess, personal contacts, family ties and patience (ok, his patience isn't necessarily Peruvian but boy is it helpful!)

On the Saturday of Mother's Day weekend, I was able to enjoy the fruits of his personal contacts. We packed an overnight bag with a few things (including leashes, bowls, food, brush, ball, and toys!) and drove south to the small town of Lunahuana. It's a very pretty area where people go for adventure sports like mountain biking, horseback riding and river rafting. The river runs through a beautiful, fertile valley surrounded by dry, desert hills on both sides. It's weird to see the farmland stop suddenly where the effects of the water can no longer reach. 

We stayed in a little bungalow at Refugio de Santiago, a casa hacienda where Kiko had previously visited and gotten to know the owner, Fernando. These places are kind of like bed & breakfasts, where the owner lives and works on site, and visitors get to see the real Peru. Rural tourism and eco tourism are great ways to see the country! Our host was anxious for us to try his fresh pink tuna juice, a deliciously pink cactus fruit drink, which we enjoyed with our tasty lunch of pato (duck) and cuy (hang on, that's guinea pig!) After lunch we walked down to the river and then hiked up a hill while the dogs followed new scents.

Part of the charm of a casa hacienda is interacting with the owner and meeting new people. We had pink tuna pisco sours with an American (who grew up in South America and works in Lima at the U.S. embassy) and his Venezuelan wife and made plans to meet up at dinner. After a short nap, Kiko and I cleaned up a bit and found our way to the pre-dinner festivities. Besides the couple we had met earlier, there was a family staying there to celebrate the matriarch's 70th birthday - the birthday "girl", some of her kids, their spouses and a few grandchildren. Everyone was sitting around a nice, warm fire, and as soon as Kiko and I were seated, our host, holding a bottle of coca-flavored pisco, began to give us instructions for the purification ceremony. He demonstrated that we were supposed to pour some liquor into the shotglass, say what we're grateful for, take a sip and throw the rest onto the fire, being careful when the alcohol hit the flames. I was almost the last to go, so I had some time to plan my speech in Spanish. When Kiko finished his speech and gave the bottle and shotglass back to Fernando, we found out that we had to go around again. Kiko said I could speak English this time, so it wasn't as stressful. After I finished, it was Kiko's turn again. He told the story of how we're trying to get my permanent resident visa, and one way to do it is to get married (again) in Peru. Our 27th wedding anniversary was earlier in the week, and this little getaway was to celebrate that as well as Mother's Day. Then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him! I was so surprised, and it was so special because I was the one who originally proposed to him in 1983. At least I had the presence of mind to say, "sure!"

I thought we going out with everyone to have dinner in the garden, but Kiko and I were the only ones heading out the door. As soon as we were outside, I saw tiki torches on the ground on both sides of the walkway, lighting a path where Kiko was leading me. A few people were following us, and we just kept walking up the path toward all these little bright lights on a hill. I was so confused, I didn't know what to think. It was dark except for the tiki torches, and it seemed like we walked forever! Finally we ended up on a plateau, and in front of us was a table set for two, with a white tablecloth, candles, flowers, the romantic works! After I sat down the harpist began to play! I hadn't noticed him standing next to the hill, the one with what looked liked hundreds of tiki torches lining it from bottom to top! And it wasn't even a hill, it was a huaca, a sacred monument build by an early Peruvian civilization such as the Incas. I was so overwhelmed at this point, and that's when the guests who had been following us came over to give us hugs and take pictures. Apparently I was the only one who didn't know what was going on! My darling husband and I had a delicious dinner under a clear canopy of stars, listening to Peruvian harp music on an ancient civilization's sacred ground - la cena mistica (the mystical dinner). Words cannot do justice to the scene, or the feelings.

We danced, and talked, and I shed a few tears. We wanted to stay longer but the tiki torches were getting dim, and we were concerned for our harpist and server walking in the dark with their hands full, so we reluctantly walked back down the path to the hacienda. Everyone else was just finishing up with dinner, and we walked back to our patio with our neighbors to share some wine, champagne and conversation near our own roaring campfire.

My Mother's Day was filled with more excellent food, drinks, a hike, a tour of the many organic fruit trees on the grounds, some reading, and visiting with nice folks. It was a fun-filled, down-to-earth Sunday, which followed the heavenly Saturday evening under the stars.

It's a Dog's Life

The dogs have been in Peru for a month now, and they seem to have completely recovered from their travel ordeal. They've generally adjusted to apartment life, making the most of their three daily trips outside (really, how much poo does a dog have?) They love chasing all the birds in the park - cuculis (doves), mockingbirds, pretty red and yellow songbirds (vermilion flycatchers and saffron finches), red-masked parakeets. Kianne once caught a little dove - twice in the same day! I'm sorry to say that it didn't end well.

They don't understand that our neighbors are closer to us in the apartment than they are in our neighborhood at home, so Kianne and Maddie still bark when they hear the neighbors come and go. They drink tap water, and eat Peruvian Purina. They know the sound of our diesel minivan, and look down at us from our third floor window whenever we come home. It's so nice to have their company, and it makes life here seem a bit more normal.

Because we must consider their needs, we've been doing a lot of dog-friendly activities. We've walked to and through numerous nearby parks, and I'm really grateful for the pretty park right behind our apartment building. I can actually take them there in the middle of the night because it's so well lit and there's always a security guard. The dogs usually meet up with friends at the park, and Kianne will often play with them off-leash. We're always asked if the dogs are embras (female) or machos (male) because Peruvians almost never get their dogs neutered and I guess people are afraid that the macho dogs will fight. We always see dogs in the park, whether they're being walked by their owners, dog walkers or maids. And it appears that nearly every dog we see is either a Golden Retriever, Miniature Schnauzer, or Cocker Spaniel (but never a chubby, black, English-speaking one with a long tail - Maddie has that covered). There are also all the Labs - yellow, chocolate and black - a few Jack Russells, and the occasional small, white fluffy varieties. Kiko and I laugh every time we see one of these same breeds, also noticing that pretty much the only time you'll see a mutt here is if it's a street dog. Kianne is quite unique! 

We've taken Kianne and Maddie on a long walk along the malecon, the street that hugs the cliffs overlooking the ocean. There are a lot of parks along the way, and little stands where you can get fresh juice or coffee and a sandwich. We took them to the beach twice with their primo (cousin) Volvo, Miguel and Ceci's huge Great Dane. There's no specific dog beach here, so they can play in the surf and then roll in the sand anywhere they please! For Mother's Day weekend, we took the dogs on an overnight trip to a rustic retreat in Lunahuana, a few hours south of us. They enjoyed hiking in the dirt, dodging barbed wire to chase birds through the farms, and cooling off in the creek. They did not, however, like the loud fireworks exploding over our little bungalo ALL NIGHT LONG. The double bed was very crowded and felt very small!

Both dogs have been groomed twice since they've been here, already more often than they get groomed at home. It's amazingly inexpensive for a bath, nail clipping, ear and (gulp) anal gland cleaning - only $15 for the two dogs, with an extra $4.30 for Maddie's haircut! The place even provides pickup and delivery, and the vet on site will take a look at them to see if they have dry skin, ear problems or anything else that might affect their grooming.

So, the dogs are clean, they're enjoying new experiences and new friends, and they're learning a second language. Their next outing will be to the ranch in Barranca, where they will see (up close!) a creature even bigger than Volvo - a Peruvian Paso Horse. If only they could talk.

The Dogs' Adventure Begins Part 2

I feel much better about writing Part 2 now that I'm sure the dogs have recovered from the horror of their journey to Peru. I wasn't always certain that they were even alive! 


The LAN Cargo flight was due to arrive at 11:30 pm on Saturday, April 16. Kiko and I left for the airport late (surprise!), and were still driving at 11:30. But Kiko was laughing at me because I was under the mistaken impression that we'd walk into the airport and pick up the dogs. Well, the LAN Cargo website said, "AT DESTINATION - To claim the pet, the person at destination must follow a standard procedure that can be initiated before the flight arrival." That didn't sound like things would take too long. The plane arrived at Jorge Chavez International Airport on schedule, but we had to wait for the cargo (our dogs) a few miles down the road at Lima Cargo City, where they would be transported. Kiko and I had originally planned for the dogs to fly with us on a nonstop flight but decided against that because the nonstop flight was really expensive. Keep that thought in mind. 


At 11:40 pm, we handed over our IDs to the security guard at the gate and obtained badges for Cargo City. It was an enormous warehouse with offices above and across from it. There were no signs indicating where we should go, so we asked someone who sent us to an office upstairs, where we were sent downstairs, where we were sent back upstairs to a window, where we were sent down the long hall, across the footbridge to ask the security guard at the desk where to go. Basically no one knew anything, and it was now about midnight. We were then sent around the front of the building past a long row of offices, finally into an office where another security guard asked for our IDs, which we said we had exchanged for the Cargo City IDs ("see the official badges hanging around our necks?") We were sent upstairs to another office, this time arriving at the LAN Cargo headquarters. We asked to initiate the process to claim our two dogs, but by this time were obviously skeptical of the website's definition of "standard procedure". 


We were correct in our skepticism, because we were told that we couldn't do anything until they received the paperwork that traveled with the dogs, which was still at the airport WITH THE DOGS. So we waited. We sat in an empty waiting room for an hour and a half. If I had known, I would have brought a book (as Kiko was busy on his cell phone). Finally, the paperwork arrived and we could do something. It just wasn't clear WHAT. Things get kind of foggy here. We had to get cash from the ATM downstairs to pay a fee but no one seemed to know where we had to go to pay it. We had to take various documents to different offices and windows and counters to get signatures and stamps and receipts. I was desperate to see the dogs, worried because we hadn't really had official confirmation that they were on site, so Kiko insisted that we be allowed to see them.


We took a break in our paperwork trail to wait at the warehouse entrance for a worker to locate, in the slowest possible manner, an extra hardhat for me to wear. Finally we were walked through the warehouse to the "special area where the dogs were being kept safely", only to find that their crates were in no special area at all! At least we got to witness that they were, indeed, alive, but we were not allowed to take them out of their crates, even for a moment. We stuck our fingers through the doors, and told Kianne and Maddie to hang in there, and left them crying as we walked back through the warehouse.


Our resolve was stronger than ever as we then drove to the airport to pay another fee. It took several different people giving us several different directions, and then a grumpy man telling Kiko he couldn't get through the gate to meet with the person he was supposed to pay. After searching out someone from an office that was closed, Kiko was finally able to bypass the grouchy gatekeeper to take care of the next step. I wasn't allowed to go with him, so I passed the time alternately watching some backpackers inspect their equipment and walking up and down the stairs and around the terminal, counting my steps for fun. 


On the way back to Lima Cargo, Kiko told me that he had to go turn in the newly acquired paperwork, pick up another document, visit the ATM a second time (because they only deal in CASH) and then we would be driving to the airport AGAIN to pay for something else! Of course I thought he was making this up. "You're kidding, right?" I asked him. Kiko wasn't kidding. I stayed in the car for this round and also when we went back to the airport. When he woke me up from a restless nap, the sun was coming up. Supposedly we had the final clearance in our hands as we made our way back to Lima Cargo, got our badges again, made our way up the stairs, down the hall, over the bridge, along the building, up the stairs and into the office for the final signature. But it wasn't the final signature, nor had we made the final payment. We were sent all the way back to the warehouse, where we were then told to go back upstairs to pay the warehouse company for keeping our dogs for us (while we ran around all night long trying to pay their ransom).


I don't know how many guys tried to get Kiko to make a little "extra donation" because we had the pink copy instead of the yellow one, or the signature was on the left side instead of the right, whatever little thing they could come up with to slow us down, but Kiko firmly held his ground and got through it all without making any additional payments. We were told that we were lucky that we handled all this in the middle of the night, because claiming cargo could take several days due to the extremely long daytime lines. And "cargo" is truly what the dogs were considered, which is why we had to pay import taxes and customs fees. While we thought we were saving money by not flying direct with the dogs and sending them via cargo, we probably ended up spending nearly as much, along with incalculable hassle. I am confident that my narrative has missed some steps along the way, but that has probably helped to ease the pain of that incredible fiasco.


It was now after 7 am on a sun-shiny, Lima morning. Finally, after nearly eight hours of following their "standard procedures" we handed the completed paperwork to the warehouse manager, who called for a worker to get the dogs. This guy was walking so slow, with no sense of purpose, that I finally lost it and yelled at him in bad, exasperated Spanish, "POR FAVOR! Mis perros estan en sus jaulas para 20 horas! (that's right, Kianne and Maddie had been in their crates for 20 hours straight). He just turned to me, flashed a stupid grin, and kept plodding along. 


As you know, there is a happy ending. We got the dogs! They were a bit groggy and wobbly, hungry and thirsty, needing to pee and wanting to be petted. Fortunately, one of the best things about dogs is that they don't hold things against you. The big dog at my feet and the little one next to me are proof of that.