The City has shut down...

It's election day in Peru, and everything is shut. Everything was shut yesterday too; particularly important is that the sale of alcohol is illegal the day of and two days prior to election day, because otherwise Election Day turns into Drunken Brawl Day according to my Spanish teacher. Also, while Peru stops short of declaring election day a holiday, it is on a day when most people don't work anyways, Sunday. Plus, since voting is compulsory in Peru, most stuff ends up shutting in a de facto holiday, and you see people roaming about eating street food with purple fingers (indicating that they have voted already). If you don't vote, you are fined, and you can't get official documents like car titles or passports, and you can't conduct legal business like getting a loan from a bank. From what I've been told, the fine for not voting ranges from $3 to $22, depending on where you live - since polling is done in the cities, if you live there you have little excuse, so the fine is bigger. But for people that live in remote rural areas, it's cheaper to not vote than it is to make your way to the city to do so, so many rural people don't vote. What kind of democray this makes is up to debate I suppose, but the turn-out here is in the 90th percentile.

I'm heading to Copacabana, Bolivia on Tuesday. Before I went to the terminal to buy my ticket, I read in my book that they had 'received numerous reports of robbery on night trains on the Cusco-Puno-La Paz route, take a day bus if possible,' which of course implies that there are day buses to take, but I asked at 6 different companies (there are probably 50 companies, although most of them ply the main routes of Lima-Arequipa-Cusco) and none of them had daytime service. So maybe say a little prayer to the diety or higher power of your choice for me!

Especially after my close call the other night, I fear my luck might be running out: I awoke the other morning to find a young man creeping across my floor. I sat up and gave an extremely groggy 'hola?' I was sleeping pretty hard, and it was light out so I didn't know what time it was, and I knew that a girl in my house was leaving for the Inca Trail that morning, and that the sons of my host mom were about this guys age, and they and their friends were always coming over... in other words, I was still half asleep and thought that there had been some mistake. But in hindsight, this guy acted totally caught, and started explaining that he lived in the other square (there is a square of apartments coming into my house, and then an internal square to my house itself with rooms off of it), and that this square was unfamiliar to him, and I wasn't catching everything he was saying but he seemed really concerned that I was convinced, and I just told him to get out. Then when he left I noticed the lock pop on the door - he had come in and locked the door behind him. And after that I noticed my videocamera sitting on the nightstand next to me. I got out of bed and followed him out of the house and saw him prattling around in the kitchen of the outer square; upon later inquisitions I found out that he was dating one of the gringo girls in the outer apartments. I have no idea how he got in my house, or why he came into my room, but the thought occured to me that he didn't know there were any men in my house (I being the first and only recently), so I figure he was definately after me (until he saw my beard) or after my camera. So I learned, very painlessly, another lesson I knew but didn't follow: always, always lock your door.

If you ever come to Peru and wonder why there's electrical tape on the shower handle, it's because without it you would receive an electrical current of unspecified strength through your body without it. Most places in Peru have hot showers, but the electricity to heat the water is feed in just before the point of use (which is useful for determening the functionability of the system, since the lights dim if the juice is there). Usually this means you face a relationship of inverse proportions between water pressure and temperature - you can rinse your shampoo in frigid water, or you can stay warm under a slight trickle, but you can't do both. And try not to touch the handle in the meantime. Fortunately the currents I have experienced have been pretty mild.

I've been trying to find 3X5 cards to make myself flashcards of Spanish words, a task that has once again highlighted how easily things function back home, at least for me (maybe Peruvians don't have the problems I do, but based on my experience with the buses I have my doubts). If you want to buy paper, you can't just go to the store, because they don't have just generic stores here. If you want paper, you have to go to the paper store, or escritoria (escribir is Spanish for 'to write'), which sells pens, pencils, paper, notebooks, and other various tools of recording your thoughts. But the only escritoria I could find didn't seem to have what I wanted (although I admit I am lacking the proper Spanish words to describe 3X5 cards. What's 3 inches in millimeters?). When I asked where I should go to find what I want, the clerk said out on the street to the right. When I asked 'out to the street, to the right, and...?' she replied 'si, en la calle y derecha' which translates to 'get out of my store and quit bothering me.' In short, I am still without flashcards, which means I am still confusing pensar (to think) and poder (to be able to).

Since meals here don't really include much in the way of fresh anything, I've been walking up to a juice stand on the edge of town, way up on a hill, each day to have fresh orange juice and watch the sun set. It's a beautiful walk, and fresh orange juice is nice too. I realized on the way back from that walk today that I enjoy settling into little routines in new places a lot more than I enjoy rushing around to tourist sites; I enjoy sitting in the plaza all day to see when the light is best on the cathedral more than I enjoy being in the cathedral itself. If you doubt the importance of routine, read the essay "On Habit" by either William James or Leon Dumont. Both are good, although of course I prefer James as an American philosopher and the father of the philosophy we today call pragmatism.

Three weeks later and I'm finally beginning to enjoy Cusco. I guess I'm starting to get used to the touts and be able to appreciate the city some; the perfect Incan stonework that meets colonial architecture meets modern day Peru, starting to have favorite restaurants, etc. For dinner tonight I went to a thouroughly family place: bland, non-offensive pop music playing, checkered tablecloths, and, yes, families. It was a pollo a la brasa place (basically bar-b-q chicken), a Peruvian favorite although this was the first time I've been to one. I ordered the 1/4 chicken (1/2 chickens are also available), which includes super-size papas fritas (french fries, although not finger food here) and unlimited access to the salad bar (I did say 'family restaurant,' didn't I?). This place also had normal tasting ketchup and garlic mayo, which was nice.

There's a documentary playing in the internet cafe of Peter Hyams, a name I'm sure you recognize as director of such film milestones as Timecop (starring my hero, Jean-Claude Van Damme) and End of Days (Arnold Schwarzenegger). They've used the phrase 'tender age' three times in the past 10 minutes; if there's any question, this is a red flag for poor writing. Maybe it was produced by Hyams himself.

The air in Cusco the past few nights has had a warmth and stillness to it that, when combined with the close quarters of the narrow streets, gives the impression that you're in a large, outdoor room, especially when you're in one of the pedestrian-only streets of the center. It's nice.

p.s. I just lost a bunch of writing due to the stupid pop-up blocker, so this entry isn't spell checked.