San Isidro

For a moment we can pause and take a deeper breath. The empty feeling of leaving Las Dalias is still hard to shake, but we are glad to know we have a place to rest for three whole weeks. Its spartan, but it works. The big relief was successfully connecting to the internet. For a few days, we had no telephone and no internet, and the isolated feeling that surrounds me constantly here intensified exponentially at the thought of not being able to reach out to anyone, over any medium.

We must thank Cesar again, as he showed us to our first ceviche shack in the district of Barranco to take our minds off things for a moment. Zarach's looks unimpressive, but the food was incredible, and though we were all a little concerned about the aftermath of our first experience with the ceviche, it did not disappoint, and our stomachs are still, i'm happy to report, doing just fine.

We also tried our first Pisco Sours, and its something I could easily make a habit of here. Cesar laughs as my face turns a little red: the drink is the pisco liquor, lime, simple syrup, egg white and ice, and tastes something like a very perfect, smooth, earthy margarita. Diego, our friend and cabby introduced us to "leche tigre," also known as panther milk. We took timid tastes of the white chunky stuff before he reveals its nothing more than blended ceviche. Sighs of relief are audible, as we still harbor concern for our fragile American digestion.

Our first night in the new apartment in San Isidro is just a little bit cold. Cesar has headed for the bus station, but left us with some bootlegged American dvds for entertainment, and probably familiarity just as much. He's thoughtful beyond reason and we are lucky to call him a friend.

The apartment is mostly stone and tile, and we hear our voices echoing around the place while wishing we'd packed furry slippers (Its supposed to be summer here soon!). The first meal here has helped liven the mood. We would have had wine, but for the lack of an opener. We'll warm it up with time.