Estoy en Peru!!

A little Peruvian girl sitting behind me on the plane squeaked "Peru!" in a tiny voice when the orange lights of Lima finally came into view from our windows. It was exactly what i was screaming in my head. Everyone clapped when all the plane´s wheels thudded to the ground.

After the long lines through customs we exchanged some money and headed outside. A taxi driver from our reserved hostel was to meet us at the airport, so we dutifully followed the guy with a sign saying Shay "Slifho". That drive was one of the scariest drives ever. As we floored down narrow, pot-hole-ridden, broken-down-car-lined streets, I looked out the window at the sprawling Lima ghetto and wondered "What in the hell am I doing here?"

For months, I have been telling strangers and friends alike that I've got a one-way ticket to Lima. Now, as we fly through Lima in a rattling taxi, I feel like a fraud. I'm not brave. I'm scared. I'm in LIma, clutching my mace, double checking the locks of the taxi doors and fearing that every vacant street we are tossed onto is the last street I will see before I am robbed blind.

But it all turned out fine.

We got to the hostel. It smells like cat pee and arm pit but it has a bar. It's all good.

* * * *

I'm trying to decide which is better, planning out everything and knowing our plan and destination or spending three days in dirty Lima deciding where to go next. Some people have everything planned and they seem really happy with that. "Two days in Lima. Four days in Cusco. One day for Machu Pichu." It is nice to have them around though. I've found myself using their regimented schedules as starting blocks for mine. It's kind of like they are planning my trip for me. Almost like a tour guide, except I don't have to follow them. I don't have to take their advice.