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Published: October 8th 2010
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Swans on Hostel Bed
Some places put mints on the pillows. The Boss was mighty impressed with these swans though. Karina
We had flown back in to Lima on Thursday the 23rd, arriving late in the evening. We checked in to a cheap hostel in Miraflores and crashed.
We had a pretty big sleep in, getting up at lunch time. We weren’t in any rush to see the sights - we’d been to Lima and felt we’d pretty much seen them all. The day was spent organizing laundry, doing some shopping and reading my newest book, “Two Caravans” by Marina Lewycka. The story of migrant workers and the rough deal they get in England, it had me sufficiently concerned for my own plans regarding a move to the Boss’s home country. Furthermore, its detailing of battery cage chicken farms had me sworn off eating anything but free range ever again (although the workers playing “chicken bagpipes” to spray shit on each other was pretty funny).
That night we met up with my cousin Gerard’s ex-girlfriend Karina. When I had booked my ticket for Peru, Mum had told me to get in touch with Gerard as he had spent a big chunk of time there. I dropped him a line on Facebook and, within 24 hours, he had replied with two Facebook messages, texted me and I had a missed call from him. He was a big help with getting my head around Lima before I arrived and he had asked me to give Karina a CD and some photos from him.
We met Karina at a bar in Miraflores called Tasca Bar, where she used to work. We had only been in touch through Facebook and, at the time, my profile photo was of myself and TJ, Andy’s American mate at the wedding in Hawaii. As a result, when she walked in to the bar, she walked right past me.
“Karina?”
“Joe? You’ve lost so much weight!” (TJ is a huskier gentleman than myself).
As I turned to introduce her to the Boss, someone rang the bell at the bar and the bar tender put a fresh beer in front of me. The Boss explained that the bloke sitting next to me, who introduced himself as William, had rang the bell which meant he was buying us a round. Sweet.
We drank and chatted with Karina and after finishing our drinks, we left Tasca bar (after ringing the bell to buy William a round too of course) to meet her brother, Jackson, and his mate Billy-Jean. Killer names for two mates. We all piled in to a cab and headed to a club on the water front.
The club was in a large complex incorporating a number of bars, restaurants and shops but, being after 11 o’clock at night, only the bars were open. Security guards stood at the entrance to the complex checking IDs. Here we hit a snag - Jackson didn’t have his ID. Karina tried to reason with the guards but they weren’t having a bar of it. So she went to plan B.
We piled in to another cab. I figured we were going to a different club. But no - turned out there was an underground car park and we were going to drive down there, avoiding the guards and get in to the club that way! Unfortunately, a guard stood at the entrance to the car park and told the cabby he needed to see all our IDs. I pulled mine straight out, gave it to the guard and handed my student card back to Jackson. Surely a University of Newcastle student ID from 2005 with my photo and no date of birth on it would be sufficient ID for a 24 year old Peruvian? Well we never got a chance to find out, because the guard saw me handing it to Jackson and refused to let us in.
The cabby however was determined to earn his two soles fare. He argued with the guard for a few minutes and then just drove past him down the ramp to the car park. At the bottom of the ramp was a boom gate where the guard caught up and told the woman operating it not to let us in. Another argument ensued, this time Karina getting involved but the cabby being our main backer. I don’t know what was said but eventually they let us in.
We piled out of the cab and walked up to the club door, Karina assuring us that we would be able to get in now. But, once again, there were guards at the door to the club. They asked to see our IDs and, as one checked the Boss’s ID, Karina told the other one about Jackson’s dilemma, that he was 24 and would he please let us in? The guard looked like he was ready to let it slide (did I mention that Karina is absolutely gorgeous?) when the guard looking at the Boss’s ID piped up. I’m not sure what he said but Karina said “Angleterre,” so I figured it was a problem with her ID not being from Peru. But then the guard pointed to the Boss’s date of birth (1989) and then to a sign on the door, which read something about “25 annos”. After all the crap getting Jackson through, the Boss was too young to get in to the club anyway!
We ended up back at a club near Tasca Bar in Miraflores. We all had a few drinks, I had a dance with Karina where I apologized for my whiteness and she assured me that I was a Latino now (anyone who has seen me dance would surely debate this but it was nice of her to say). The only other highlight was a girl who Billy-Jean invited to join us. She was wearing a mid-riff and tights, making sure to roll the tights down so we could see the tattoo at the top of her leg.
The Boss said hi to her and asked her if she had come with friends.
“I don’t know anyone. I come here on my own to get it on with men!”
I told Dave, a British guy who had joined us and spoke fluent Spanish, that he should let Billie-Jean and Jackson know that the girl was up for it.
“Mate, I’m pretty sure they know.”
The girl stood up, pulled her tights down just a little lower and wiggled off.
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