Dispatches; Football and Fish

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Today has been a lazy day and the ideas and plans to go look at Inca gold and trinkets in various museums in Lima proper have been put on hold indefinitely. I've decided to stay on here in Miraflores for a couple more days, more down to killing time than anything else, before I head off to Cusco on Monday afternoon. The bus ride to Cusco takes at least 20 hours so I'm psyching myself up for that, but the scenery at least should be worth it. I couldn't get a bed at Loki hostel in Cusco so I bumped myself up a notch and booked a cheap enough hotel room in the Antares; own bed, own bath, etc.

Last night was Daithi's birthday bash here in the hostel. Daithi is the manager here, originally from the county Kildare, and all round nice bloke and decent skin. For his celebrations a group of fourteen of us went off downtown for some all-weather football action. I truly believed I wouldn't be able to run for five minutes but surprised myself by lasting the entire game and even pulled off one world class save, tipping the ball over the bar for a corner from a rifled shot from Pancho the Argentinian. Packie who? Alternating my positions between the goal and left full back was enough for me, the days of diving headers and overhead kicks long in the past. Great fun, and if only I did more of this my waistline troubles would soon be over.

Back in the hostel for the birthday celebrations saw vodka jelly shots wheeled out and a big tupperware bowl of luminous orange punch place beside the bar. A group of us broke off to go 'disco dancing', which is never a good idea in my book, but it seemed the thing to do.
The first joint, down in Larcomar, was a teenage disco. The kids there were bopping away to the latest Peruvian versions of Dizzy Rascal and Rihanna and after ten minutes I was beginning to feel various internal valves closing and vital neural chemicals and enzymes evaporating. Myself and another lad of similar mind left and went upstairs to another bar where a more suitable clientele were dancing on tables and waving balloons to 'that' Black Eye Peas' number. Peruvian women in full dance mode and good humour are a devine sight to behold.

At 4am I called it a night and crawled home, not drunk at all, just really tired from a day of football and dancing. I say dancing, it was more like a controlled epileptic fit. Back at the hostel daithi's party was kind of starting to wind down. Everyone was completely wallopped, probably from the punch, and I beat a hasty retreat when a Yank with a stupid looking beard informed me he was gay and would i like to buy some original Quartz from Indonesia. Don't ask me, cos I didn't ask him. As far as I was concerned the only quartz I needed was in my watch and that was on its way out the door attached to my wrist.

This morning I slept late, till about 11am, and then had to wait while this idiot Columbian was finished in the shower. A fucking hour he took, I swear. Yesterday, after introducing himself he said, "Guess where I come from?".
"I don't know, pal, where?" I said
" No, just guess." he said.
He told me himself in the end when I refused to play his stoopid game and started saying places like France, Japan, and Mozambique.

Tom, a Dublin fellow from Artane I think, who was also playing football yesterday, used to work at the bar in The Wild Rover in Cusco. He took a few of us to the Peruvian restaurant which I now know is called Rincon Del Bigote. You've to take a ticket and queue to get in here it's that good. After some clam shells filled with chopped fish, herbs, maize, onions and lemon juice then followed by calamari popcorn and fiery chilli mayonaise, the body felt at least 80% better. I shall return tomorrow.

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