Teehee. I’m the featured blog on WordPress this week for blogs about Peru.

Check it out: http://en.wordpress.com/tag/peru/, but they will probably be putting up a new featured blog soon.

As I am used to living in Canada, where the mail system is fast, reliable, and organized, I am constantly amazed by how weird the Peruvian mail system is.  Let’s say there are two halves: sending and receiving, both with their own eccentricities.

Sending mail is an adventure.  I obviously don’t know all the details, but I have mailed a few things to Canada, including a few boxes, a few envelopes and several post cards.  The first time I went I was amused that I had to fill out three different forms, including a customs declaration.  I also had to provide a photocopy of my passport which then then stapled to the customs declaration and taped to the package, but my favourite part was that I had to provide a fingerprint.  It ran around S/. 100, for about 700 grams.  I mailed a few of these and the price varied between 80-120 soles for approximately the same size and/or weight.  Then one week I mailed something to Canada and it cost S/. 25 and they didn’t ask me for a finger print, customs declaration, or copy of my passport.  I figured at the time that every time before that I had gone to the very same teller who started to recognize me at the post office, and the last time I went to a different teller, but turns out that if your package is under 0.5 kg it only costs S/. 25.  So you can mail two packages for S/. 50 instead of one package for S/. 100.

Receiving mail is also fun!  Usually when the mail arrives someone at the house has to sign for it (even if it’s just a bank statement), and provide an identification number, which for foreigners is a passport number.  Then they give you the present and they leave.  But sometimes they give you a carbon copy of the sheet that you signed, in case you want to frame it and put it on your wall.  If there’s no one there to sign for it, sometimes they slip it under the door, sometimes they try to deliver it again the next day, and sometimes they ship it to the post office where you have to go collect it.  The mailman also comes multiple times per day, usually with different mailmen.  For example, the bank statements apparently have their own courier company.  I assumed that the policy with heavy packages was that they sent them directly to the post office, as was the case when my dad sent me a package last week.  The mailman came to my door, had me sign for my mail, then handed me a slip that was apparently a claim ticket.

But I had a new experience today!  I got a package from my mom when I happened to be still in bed this morning.  Maria, the housekeeper, came to my room and asked me for my passport number, so I wrapped myself in a blanket and went to the door and started rattling off my number, when the guy shook his head and said he needed to see my actual passport or a copy of it.  I was confused, and went to get a copy of my passport.  I assumed he was going to keep the copy, but he just copied down the number I told him and handed the photocopy back to me.  He had me sign and gave me about three different forms that I got to keep.  Then he gave me my package and told me that if I wanted to give him a tip that would be okay.

So thank you mommy for the presents and the adventure surrounding it.  (Yes, it got here in time for Christmas)  Within the package were such wonderful various things as more tea, Halloween candy, socks, and a whole pile of books.  Sweet!

Like Bigfoot, a pishtaco is a local legend of a creature (usually a white foreigner) who would prey on unsuspecting travelers.  Instead of sucking blood, as vampires are said to, pishtacos suck fat out of their victims and leave them for dead.  Now why would they do this, one might ask?  Apparently, the early versions of this story were targeting Spanish missionaries, who were said to use human fat to grease their church bells.  Or, they turn the fat into lovely soaps and beauty creams.

So guess what the news headline is today?  You might have even heard about it back home because to be perfectly honest, it’s the kind of sensational news that the press loves.

Police in Peru have just arrested a group trafficking in human fat.

Now you’re disgusted too.  Here’s the gross part: apparently they didn’t steal fat from cadavers, they would actually kidnap fat people specifically to kill them and harvest their fat.  Police are now investigating the disappearances of 60 potential victims.  Apparently the fat goes for $15,000 per gallon.  Now what would you do with gallons of human fat, you might ask?  Sell it to cosmetics companies.  Think about that next time you’re buying lipstick.

Okay, I’ll admit it publicly.  I am a nerd.  One of my missions when I came here to Peru was to find a Dungeons & Dragons book in Spanish for the sheer novelty value of it.  I also have a friend who owns a game store and he wanted me to scope out the inter-continental competition.  My friend Romy told me that she used to play similar games and that the place to go was called Game Zone, in a mall in Surco.  At long last, I set out to find the place, and was moderately disappointed.

 

Game Zone

Game Zone did have Dungeons and Dragons stuff, but it was all old and in English.  They had one copy of the new version I was looking for, and it was also in English.  I asked the guy if they printed it in Spanish and he said yes but he didn’t know when he would be getting any in.  For those of you interested, they also sold a very limited selection of board games both English and Spanish (Settlers of Catan [sp], Risk 2210 [en], Carcassone [en]), Magic cards, Mechwarrior, and Lego.  Lots and lots of Lego.

Also in the same mall I found the following:

 

Paintball Shop

And my personal favourite (someone tell Scotty for me!):

 

I wonder if Scotty has something to tell us

 

 

 

I found more cows!  The ones taken at night are at Larcomar, and the other ones are from Barranco.

Flower Cow

Silver Cow

Polka-Dot Cow

Ice-Cream Cow

Colourful Cow

Identity Confused Cow

Neon Cow

Skateboard Cow

Haute “Cow”-ture

Paint Cow

Questionable Cow

Wine Cow

H1N1 Cow

Lava Cow

Barbeque Cow

Jacket Cow?

Eco-Cow

Tattoo Cow

“Moo” Walker

Optical Illusion Cow

Monkey Cow

I made another pie!  Using the pumpkin mush that my dad sent me, it actually turned out right!

 

Perfect Pie

Thanks Dad!

 

 

Eric likes Clowns

Eric is a very interesting fellow.  He has a strange fascination with clowns and raindrops, rune stones and tattoos.  Eric has defied the odds and taught me that there actually are francophone people living in Alberta.

 

Eric's tattoo

He also taught me that tattoos are really cheap in Peru and if you wanted to get a big tattoo like he did it was cheaper to fly to Peru and stay in a hotel for 2 weeks while you get a tattoo than it is to just get a tattoo in Canada.  If you look closely at the picture, the top part of his tree is all peeling and funny looking.  Really it’s because his skin is falling off.

 

Eric's Hobo Jacket

We also went to the market and he discovered this jacket that he just had to buy the really looks like a hobo clown.  It’s all patchwork and reversible, apparently one side is materials from the jungle and the other is materials from the mountains.  Phew!

 

 

 

Everyone gets sick when they travel.  I have been lucky enough to not have gotten very sick (yet), but both Maria and Ana Maria are mothers, so they get concerned when I mention I have a tummy ache or a headache.

One thing that I constantly think is odd is that when I say I am not feeling well, they tell me to put on some shoes.  Why, I will ask them.  Is the floor wet or dirty?  No, they will reply.  But the floor is cold (cement), and everyone knows that the cold enters your body through your feet, so you will get more sick.

Meanwhile, in Canada mothers are always saying to put on a hat and scarf when you are cold so you don’t get sick.

I wonder why it is different?  I can think of many reasons – perhaps in Canada it is assumed that you are already wearing shoes and the floors have carpeting.  Perhaps here in Peru everyone has thick black hair.  Can anyone think of any other reasons?

Today I was going out to do some errands, when I spontaneously decided to get off the bus and walk home, because it was a beautiful day.  I started walking and got to a plaza, where people were sort of rolling out white paper and giving out t-shirts.  Terribly intrigued, I asked what was going on.

“We’re protesting bullfighting!” is the response I got.  ”Oh,” I said.  ”Can I have a t-shirt?”  They told me that of course I could, and I should go talk to that lady over there.  The lady then asked me if I wanted to help out with the demonstration, or just have a shirt.  I said that I would love to help out.  And that, my friends, is how I got conscripted to hold a sign while people squirted fake blood on each other naked.

Preparations

Protest signs! (70% of Peruvians are against bullfighting)

I got a T-Shirt!

Holding my sign!

Fake blood

The little girl

Practising performance art

Ready to be art

Art

Lots of nakedness

The flowery things are supposed to be the swords you stab the bull with

Insanity

Then this little girl decided to make friends with me.  She said she was nine years old, her name was something like Chelsey but not quite.  She kept asking me what we were doing and why they were doing weird things.  Let me tell you: trying to explain to a nine year old in a foreign language the concept of protesting animal cruelty is REALLY HARD.