When In Peru

This morning, it is sunny.

I am still in Cuzco, though probably only for a day or two more. Not sure how much more of this city I can handle...

Last night there was a "massive" party at the hostel. I would not choose to use this word myself, as my party standards have changed significantly since coming to The Point (quite possibly the party hostel in Cuzco) and I was not convnced yesterday's shenanigans were all that out of the ordinary. Still.
One of the four multi-national, slightly stoned looking owners said earplugs and valium would be provided for those who did not wish to partake, but apparently he was joking. I have made a real effort to take on (and perhaps enjoy?) the party scene here, but last night I was firmly amongst the "not partaking", because...

a) On principle I dislike using someone else's national holiday as an excuse to get drunk (not like you actually need an excuse here). Especially when the independence they are celebrating came at such a cost, which even the best intentioned foreigner could never hope to comprehend.

and
b) The posters said you had to "dress sexy". At first I was just annoyed at being told how to dress, (stepping neatly around the "what is sexy" debate), then said it was ridiculous anyway, as who carries sexy clothes with them on the road? Apparently, ladies and gentlemen, I am the only one who does not take sexy clothes on the road.

*I must point out that mentioning either of these points to ones' room mates who are preparing themselves for sale (no, it's free) can make you very unpopular in a very short time.*

I went to bed and read Siddhartha. Slept surprisingly well, aside from a few incidents involving a large group of drunken girls singing Bob Marley, and more loud, infamous (and increasingly routine) hostel sex two beds over.

In other news, I have spent much of the last week with three Canadian guys I met in the hostel. They have been excellent and entertaining company, partly because they are so unlike the people I would usually spend time with. For example, last weekend we went out in search of a falafal restraunt and ended up booking a trip to the rainforest. More on this later.

On an unrelated note, I have made a pretty decent study of ba d keyboards around the world, but this one, I do believe, takes the cake. The space bar se ems to have a mind of its own, and will r ace across the page without me doing anything. I want to say "it is on crack", but must watch the amount of drug terminology that has infiltrate d my vocabulary in the last whi l e (especially at customs).
Drugs here are everywhere. Down gringo alley, trying to walk exactly in the middle of the slippery street with your eyes down, so as not to encourage the bored restrauntiers ("typical peruvian food, mexican, lady, alpaca!") or aggressive travel agents. At the hostel, in the bathrooms, at the bar, the secretive and the not-so-secretive. Personally I have had little trouble; that is to say, I have never been offered drugs in public, and I understand I am very much in the minority for it.

Someone the other day told me this is the cocaine capital of the world, but I have yet to look this up. Either way, a gram here cost $10 , as opposed to $80 in Canada, and suddenly doing coke is in the same category as buying mounds of unnecessary alpaca gear, "At that price, why not!" Nothing you learn about drugs back home, or in school comes close to perparing you for what you encounter here. On the page it seems dangerous or threatening , but here, it feels a little sordid, at most. Just another part of the general prostitution of Peruvian (let's face it, the Incas are gone) culture. I'm sorry if this sounds cynical, but it makes me angry. It makes me angry because just by being here I am contribuiting to the total damage, and can see no way around it.

All I know is if I hear the expresion "When in Peru..." one more time I cannot be held responsible for my actions. Unfortunately, we are all responsible for our actions, even in Peru.

N.