愛在天花蔓延時

Café Dos X 3 is a tiny little hole in the wall café in the winding streets of Cusco. It had two tables that held two people each and three diner booths surrounded by orange walls. Inside the only display cabinet were three framed caricatures of some old men. Jazz and classical music played at all times. It felt more like a jazz joint than a café. Right behind the cashier machine was a shelf with hundreds of figurines, from Picachu to tiny elephants, you name it.

  (Taken by Hank, during la fiesta of Virgen de Guadalupe, Sucre, Bolivia)

I thought that it was just going to be another parade.

(taken by Kris. in OUR car. hee hee.)

Since we started traveling in South America. Needless to say, we have been exposed to a total different kind of culture. The culture shock comes with the consumption of local food along with physical and mental adaptations to the subject.

I have a dream. Well, actually, I have many dreams. And none of them was/is related to South America. I dreamed about dancing on the street with Mexican mariachi once but that's as close as it gets to where I am now, which is about 9 hours away (don't quote me on this)by plane and 10 million miles from home(needless to say this is an exaggerated estimate).

But here I am, sitting in a coffee shop, two months and some odd days since I left, in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, observing and being observed. Asians are rare here. Mostly of them are Japanese backpackers and that's usually where they think that we are from. I'd smile and say, we are from Taiwan. Taiwan es una isla pequena, I'd say. - Taiwan is a small island. They'll nod their heads politely and ask: Korean? That's how much they know about my island.

Never had I said so much about my motherland nor being so proud of it. The pollution that used to bug me is now as minute as a mosquito bite compared to the diesel engine exhausts I had to endure in Peru and here. The crowded streets never bothered me that much since I rarely get out of the house in Taiwan. The traffic that seemed chaotic now seem orderly. I miss roaming the winding streets with my car and feeling free of all burdens once the speedometer points towards the sky.

He decided to live his life. I decided to halt my life. He went to Peru and I followed. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, we will never know. The point is, we are here, in South America(at the point of writing, we're located in Santa Cruz, Bolivia), living and halting our lives together.

Our first stop was L.A. I traced his steps from airport to airport, all 5 of them. First, CKS airport, LAX, El Salvador, Lima and then Cusco. It took me(and him on separate occasions) two days to get to where he was and it took him a month to get me to where he was. I suppose this is what relationship is all about. He goes, I follow.

Peru went through my mind and head like a blur. I didn't go to Macchu Picchu by choice. I didn't go on any of the hikes or the treks. I knew that I wouldn't survive very long without showering, well, that's not quite true. I just didn't want to climb up a mountain that has no particular interest to me. Call it how you want, that was my decision.

The only thing that I took with me was my alpaca sweater and scarf. Those will last a life time and as for the indignant payments of tourists and other unpleasant events are being forgotten with every second that passes by.