Peru, Part 3: Cakes, Cold Turkey and Mr Very Good The Sunday after partying in Arequipa, I moved into a shared house with about 10 people who were also volunteering for the organisation I'd spend two weeks with. They were a bright, friendly bunch, although a fair bit younger than me, mostly in their early 20s, even late teens. We had a power cut on the first night and when I asked if anyone remembered the big storm in southern England in 1987, and someone said they weren't born until a few years later, I felt like a right old granddad, telling war stories. In the afternoons we caught a 'combi' bus out to a dirt-poor community on the outskirts of the city, where the school for teaching kids English was. It was a very deprived
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