You have to grab the pussy

After fucking about for ages and trying to convince the cab driver that we were not complete lunatics, we were escorted to a hotel somewhere else in our new stomping ground of Lima. We purchased a couple of bottles of Vodka on the way; one of which someone smashed while we waited in the lobby to check in, great start. It took a while to settle in and calm the storm that was Ultimate Fighting Lima but we soon KO'd.

At about 2pm the following day Gaz and I were awoken with Nefs, Colin and Jon storming into the room with news. They had met some Peruanos at a local cafe and arranged to buy 1oz of Peruvian Coke. I questioned their motives reminding them that we were not staying in Lima, but they were convinced that it was a good deal and that it was also the smallest quantity available. Still half asleep, Gaz and I were in no mood to argue and let them get on with it. They were all high and had blatantly been plied with some quality shit. Apparently there were four people in this cafe. One with a Marsbar sized scar down his face, another Boliviano who apparently seemed honest (!) and another beady little weird guy with long fingernails and small circular glasses. Perhaps someone could comment after I publish this with more detailing! Colin had been ordered by the scar bearing ring leader to fondle a girl who sat in the corner of the cafe and was instructed as follows: "IN PERU, YOU HAVE TO TOUCH THE PUSSY, IF YOU DON'T, THE GELL SHE WILL THINK YOU ARE FAGGOT." Colin, obviously not wanting to seem like a gay complied after more shots of cocaine, taken from the guy's elongated fingernails. Next was Jon's turn, although with the slight variation of ass not pussy. I can only imagine what this poetic scene looked like: Colin getting off with some small Peruvian bird, eyes closed, with his finger inserted into her vagina, opening his eyes to find Jon behind her also fingering a separate entrance. Nefs on the other had come back to the hotel to obtain more cash for weed.

They later all returned absolutely wired and elated from their little Peruvian adventure. Jon ordered me to have a wake-up shot of their recent acquisition. I Staunchly declined but watched intently as Colin had a knife corner of coke. Jon then dug Nefs a shot; Nefs took a dab first and informed us all that it was, in fact, salt. Yes, an ounce of salt for a clean US$200. Jon then pulled open the packet of weed and looked pleased. "At least we weren't completely skanked, this is definitely weed." I got up and had a look, and replied to Jon "Errr mate, that's grass and mud."

All together an unsuccessful first day. I could not believe they bought without trying. Nefs says he did try to test it but the guy pulled some trick where he tapped the package of coke on the table releasing some powder, he now knows that the guy had a little wrap hidden up his sleave. Oh dear boys, not a good start.

Arthur came to meet us that afternoon and after having a laugh about it, we decided to get the fuck out of Lima quick sharp. Gringos are traditionally skanked left, right and centre. That night we went for some absolutely disgusting chicken, chips that were uncooked and a drink in a few local bars. The general consensus was Lima was a complete shithole, full of cunts that see gringos as dumb, walking cash machines.

The next day was kinda blurry but I recall getting up exceedingly early to check out the breakfast options. I walked round the corner and up the road, noting a huge pink colonial church, I stopped to admire the architecture, which was fairly intricate but nothing astounding. I poked my head through the door but the inside was dull and even less impressive. McDonalds was closed but looked tempting (sorry, I know) The only other place open was a small cafe offering Desajuno Creollo or Americano, I asked what Creollo was but did not understand the response other than tomata, cebola (onion) and coffee. Being a fan of all three and despite the hazy comprehension I went ahead and ordered for myself and my two other roommates Colin, Gaz. It was gonna take a while to cook so I continued my roam. Just two minutes away was a door guarded by a small, noisy man shouting 'INTERNTER' over and over and over again. I ducked in for a 10 minute session; obviously unable to resist his hypnotic charm.

When I returned to the hotel with the goods, they were both gone, so I sat on the floor to enjoy my breakfast. I opened the black bin liner packaging and was surprised to discover a meal of stir-fried mince and veg with bread. Not my idea of breakfast "fuckit," I thought, "I always enjoy left over curry for breakfast back in England." so ate it anyway, it was delicious!

Gaz and Cole soon returned and joined me, although informed me that they had just had a slightly more 'normal' breakfast downstairs with some delicious marmalade.

Later that morning, after rallying the rest of the troops, we had some lunch downstairs in the restaurant. Nefs arranged to get tickets to Cusco through the hotel and they sent for some fat woman who took about an hour to arrive. She spoke perfect English and sorted it all out for us. Although just before breaking the deal, informed us that two of us would have to fly 'first class' as all the economy seats were taken. We agreed to split the extra cost and let random chance decide who would get luxury seating. While the deal was being done, Colin had been out shopping. He returned from just around the corner boasting a prize in the form of a 'High Quality Fashion Watch' which included 'Move Minutely' feature but best of all actually spoke in Spanish, telling the time at the touch of a button. Gaz and I were more than impressed and had to have one, so followed Cole to the stall around the corner. In addition to the must-have watch, the vendor sold us three Spiderman masks for a few pennies. I sported the standard red mask while Gaz and Cole adorned the Venom-style black ones. What followed was a return to childhood fantasy games of 'Let's pretend'. I - being the leader in red - ran through the streets followed by Colin and Gaz chasing behind me. I stopped turned around and ushered my gang of Spidermen forward shouting "Come aan, LETS GO" in an American accent. The Peruvians, including a couple of police, had a mixed reaction to this; some were amazed by this scene and cheered us on with their clapping and laughing; others looked completely confused and some were totally unfazed as if this were normal. We burst back into the restaurant and almost died of heart attacks, pissing ourselves with laughter, while the quite diners thought they were being jacked!

We eventually got to the airport and checked in for our flight. There was no first class. Skanked again.

Peru - Madonna VS WWF Wrestlng

And so it began; my exploration of the North of South America. It was to start with a ridiculous flight, or rather flights, which consisted of Rio-Sao Paulo, Sao Paulo-Bogota and then Bogota back to Lima, totalling about 13 or so hours. I am not the greatest fan of flying. I don't suffer from panic attacks or anything but I am the type of man who likes to be in control of my own safety, and when one is trapped inside a few tons of metal soaring thousands of feet above the ground, one really has absolutely no say what will happen. Air travel statistically is the safest way to travel, but only because there ain't that many of the fuckers up there the same time. Anyway enough ranting.


The final flight was kept interesting with the aid of a single serving friend in the form of the female Colombian variety. Diane, a 32 year old stylist obviously from a wealthy area of Colombia. She was about 5' and extremely well groomed. She was very forward and one her first questions was "Do you have a wife?"! We had a giggle, flirting until she lent over and snoozed on my shoulder, I reciprocated by putting my arm around her, and slept right back at her. How completely random. By the end of the flight however, I was still not a member of 'The Mile High Club'.


Nefs was there to greet me in the arrival lounge, he led me to a coffee shop where the rest of my motley crew were waiting. It was really weird seeing them all again. Gaz, Colin, Jon and Nathaniel my brothers from other mothers. For the last decade or so, I rarely went a few days without chilling or smashing it with these boys and then no real contact for four months.


We jumped in a minibus which guided us to a hostel. It was full. The driver knew another close by so off we went. Along the way, we obviously exchanged stories of what had been happening over the past four months. The atmosphere was weird. I suppose it was just an initial shock of being with A: English people; something Brazil lacks, and B: My pals who I hadn't been with for so long.


The weather was completely overcast and we all laughed about how similar the coast seemed to resemble the Southern English coast of Seaford. Which I might add - for those who don't know - is a complete shithole!


We then arrived at the recommended hostel just a block away and checked in. The place was not exactly what I had had in mind for our first night in Lima but it was clean and fairly cheap. There were strange Peruvian souvenirs dotted around the walls, an obvious attempt to make the place look traditional, although in actual fact they looked very random and out of place!


We dumped our stuff and went in search of some local action. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and not much seemed to be happening. After eating an average meal in a very tacky North American stlye sports bar, full of fat yanks, we went went looking for a better venue. The cabs which pretty much outnumber private vehicles 100-1, have a really annoying habit of beeping their horns constantly, half the time for no apparent reason. I flagged one down and asked him if he could get any yayo. Peruvian Cocaine: something all the boys had been very excited to sample, being from the land of gack. He said he could sort some out and I arranged to meet he in the the same spot after 20 minutes. I spoke in a Spanish accented Portuguese and he seemed to understand. I could quite easily make out what he was saying. Kinda like when I first travelled Brazil with Arthur who did the opposite.


We went for another drink and withdrew some funds from across the road, then waited on the street corner failing to look inconspicuous in this foreign land of small people and beeping taxis. He soon arrived. Colin and I jumped in and went around the corner with him to check it out. It seemed good but nothing special. We parted with 20 Soles for each wrap (each about .6 of a gram) and jumped out to meet up with the rest of the gang. There are roughly 6 Soles to the pound - you do the maths.


After rallying everyone together we all squeezed in one of the millions of cabs and I requested the driver took us to a bar that would still be open. The Portuguese was slightly confusing to him but he understood and dropped us off at a bar where they charged us 40 Soles for entry, which included three drinks. This seemed fair. When we entered we soon realised that this was no ordinary bar. The waiter led us to our lounge seats and served us drinks. The entry cost included 3 beers and a Pisco Sour - Peru's national drink. Sorry Peru but it tastes more like sour piss, get another national drink. The bar was situated right next to us and propping it up sat a row of about 10 young Peruanas. They just sat there and stared and stared. It was very weird and very uncomfortable. The waiter kept coming over asking if we like any of them to which we all replied "no." They took turns in dancing on stage for us but it was more comical than tantalising. We were all uninterested in any private dances. I called one of the nicer looking girls over for a chat and arranged to meet her tomorrow exclaiming that I do not pay for it. She agreed although I wasn't serious. All of us were keen to get on it but unfortunately in the toilets sat a rat like teenager keeping watch. On the whole the place was a shithole so we finished our drinks and left.


At this stage the night was kicking on. There was a cabbie outside waiting for us. He took us to another bar aptly named Madonna. When we went in we realised it was the same deal. Nathaniel expressed that he was uncomfortable staying in such a venue as his loyalty lied with his beloved Catherine. He also said that he was tired and wanted to go home to sleep anyway. This was fair enough as it was about 3am by this time.


Madonna was fucking crazy. The girls looked worryingly young although quite clearly not illegally so. We sat and drank beers watching their amusing dancing efforts. They were not quite as weird as in the other bar. There was also no little rat boy in the toilets watching us piss, so we were able to liberate our nostrils freely. The night drew on and we became more and more drunk. The bar accepted US Dollars which is standard for Peru although they seemed to have numerical dyslexia as they failed to give us change after every payment. By the end of the night we were all chatting away to the girls sitting at bar. Gaz bought another round of drinks and again was not given change, this time though he questioned the barman who proceeded to run away and hide in the back room! Unbelievable. It was becoming more and more clear that basically gringos are seen as easy pickings and everyone was gonna try and rip us off.

After leaving Madonna, we headed back to our Hostel with a bottle of rum. We yo ho ho'ed for a few hours and chatted shit. The initial feelings of weirdness were completely forgotten and it was as though we hadn't parted company at all. Colin and I passed out but were repeatedly awoken to Jon and Gaz jumping on us. Cunts. I then fled to the other room. What happened next was not witnessed by myself but Colin tells me he left Jon and Gaz to indulge in there own WWF wrestling match! This apparently resulted in Jon punching Gaz twice in the chops. EEEK. Jon & Gaz + cocaine + copious amounts of alcohol + Macho-Man Randy-Savage impressions = complete Chaos. The next I heard of this was the hostel owner barging in my room where Colin and I were comortably snoozing. "You friends, these man is crazy, " she yelled, obviously deeply disturbed by a small Indian, wrestling with an American-Welshman in her house. Needless to say, it was time to go. Successful first night? It was good to have them back.