In Limbo in Lima (part 1)

When I arrived, I had to wait for Luciano for a couple of hours. I’d slept all the way so this gave me the opportunity to reflect for the first time out side of Mancora, whilst awake. I felt positive. I felt like the adventure had recommenced. I felt good because I’d got all the way to Lima on my own, without crying.

The last two months had been mentally and emotionally draining. I felt like I’d made a bad decision: stay in Mancora instead of going back to Argentina. I know, I know – chicks before dicks, bro’s before ho’s. But in all seriousness when you’ve got a gorgeous new boyfriend who wants you to stick around – what else are you going to do but try to make it work?

I always told Mario that I wasn’t staying in Mancora for him; it was because I loved Mancora, I was done with travelling around for a while and I was running out of money. And I believed it the first time I said it, but I knew I was playing it cool. I didn’t think Mario believed me – I’d assumed he’d think I was only staying for him, I assumed he was arrogant. I was wrong, he believed me. Maybe I made him feel insecure?

The odds were against us from the beginning: the age gap, the language gap. At first none of this seemed to matter – you can bridge a gap: we were falling in love and I loved my life in Mancora. But can you use the same bridge for two gaps? No. It would seem not.

Eventually my instinct kicked in. I had that fight or flight moment - my mind and body came together to fight against my weakened heart and told me to get away from the situation. It wasn’t just Mario though; it was Mancora. The cracks began to show, the romance had gone, I’d started to see it for what it really was...

The place has a strange energy to it. You don’t notice it at first because you just think: I like this place. And it makes sense: sunshine, sea, surfers. It’s not the most beautiful place in the world, but it has a quirky rustic charm that draws you in and you THINK you never want to leave. But once you’re involved – either because you’ve been there long enough so everyone knows who you are, you’ve got a bloke there and everyone knows him so they know who you are, you live there, you have a job there, or like some people (ahem) all of the above – you still love it, but you notice that there’s something wrong...

It’s full of dodgy but interesting characters. The girls that stay there – according to the boys who are from there – are all crazy “why do all the crazy gringas stay in Mancora?” - I can see why they think that. But all the guys that live there are nuts themselves. Maybe all the crazy girls like Mancora because it makes them feel normal by comparison? Or maybe it’s because the men there drive them crazy.

Peruvian men or at least Mancorian men, have a quirky charm about them too. They’re different, they’re exotic and they’re a little bit loopy. Unlike the mulleted metrosexuals of Argentina, generally they’re not a mix of European blood – they’re a mix of Spanish and Inca blood. They’ll get in to a fight to protect your honour… or just to have a fight. When they drink they can’t handle it – it’s an indigenous thing. They’re very sensitive as well as being macho alpha males. They’re the embodiment of contradiction. At first it’s exciting, then after a while – it’s tiring. Why? Because there’s one rule for them and another for you. Once you realise this - whether you try to contest it or not - the trouble starts.

It turns out the jealousy and possessiveness isn’t exclusive to Mario. Once you start talking to other long-term local gringas with Mancorian boyfriends, you notice a pattern forming and you end up swapping stories of their bizarre behaviour.

Then there’s the rumours – I like to call these: bullshit. First you hear a rumour about your friend that’s not true. You know it’s not true, because at the time and place when it was supposed to have happened; you were with them somewhere else. These rumours aren’t even interesting – it’ll just be something like: yeah I saw (so and so) drunk last night, she was out all night and she passed out on the table.

Then Fiorella heard a rumour about me.

When Mario and I had broken up the first time apparently it was a good thing because according to Mario’s cousin, I go out every night and take coke. This is absolute bollocks. I couldn’t afford to go out and even if I wanted to I definitely couldn’t afford to buy that. The ‘ironic’ thing is it’s him who does loads of coke, and I don’t. So this rumour pissed me off. Fortunately it pissed Fiorella off too and she went off on one at the accuser and told him The Truth.

It was things like this that made me start to feel like Mancora didn’t deserve a festival and Mario didn’t deserve me. I was giving him everything – my heart and soul – on a daily basis and all I was getting in return was accusations and pain... and some sushi.

No tengo nada
Not only this, I was losing weight rapidly through not eating much. Mario was feeding me the aforementioned sushi every day, but this was all I’d eat. I couldn’t afford to buy food, especially after my bank reduced the black hole that was my overdraft by £500.

After the bank thing happened I worked my arse off, it had given me the push I needed to start making some money. But it scared the shit out of me. If they could take away £500 just like that – they could easily take the whole thing away if they wanted to.

I’d saved up some Soles (Peruvian money) to pay the rent. Instead I used this money to get to Lima.

Victoria
Just before I got on the bus Victoria slipped something in to my hand. When I got on the bus I realised it was S/200. She said she wanted to give it to me on my birthday, but I needed then so it was an early birthday present.

She’s not rich and she really couldn’t afford to do that, but a gift is a gift and it was too late to tell her it was too much.

I don’t know what I would have done without that girl - died probably. She’s an absolute diamond with true team spirit. Yes we all look after each other, we’re all girls travelling South America alone – but she always goes way beyond what you expect of a friend. Especially a friend you’ve only known for a couple of months.
Somehow, when you’re travelling you get closer to people more quickly. You spend more time together in a short space of time so you can make a judgement on whether you like someone or not, almost instantly and after a bit more time, you work out whether they’re decent, or not.

All the close female friends I made whilst travelling are strong, interesting, intelligent, kind, wonderful women that deserve a good life and a happy future. Victoria is certainly one of these girls.

More lies
My first night in Lima I stayed at Inca Wasi, Fiorella’s brother’s hostel. It used to be their family home. It was her brother’s birthday and there was a small gathering going on – Jean, Mario’s boss, was there which took me by surprise. I said hello to him but not much more as I was catching up with Fiorella at the time, then he left before I had a chance to have a conversation with him.

After my initial but short lived positivity I plunged in to sadness on Tuesday afternoon. Mainly because I’d had time to think – and all I could think about was Mario. I even wrote a poem – a new personal low. And no, you can’t see it.

By Wednesday I was feeling a bit better, but I decided I needed to postpone the festival. I needed more time, so I moved it to June. I couldn’t quite admit to myself that I simply didn’t want to do it any more – I didn’t have the energy or the inclination. But I’d promised myself only a month before that I’d finish what I started and make it happen.

In the afternoon, I went on the internet. I’d received an email from Mario in reply to an email I’d sent him when I first arrived letting him know that I’d arrived OK. The email said that Jean (his boss) had told him that I’d said I was leaving Peru forever. Yet more bullshit. Mario asked if this was true. I was about to reply when I noticed he was on Facebook chat. I told him I didn’t say that and it wasn’t true – I didn’t know why Jean had said that. Mario said he believed me. He told me he missed me. We chatted for an hour before he had to go to work. It felt nice, I felt happier.

Later Luciano showed up. We went back to his house in Central Lima, hung out, smoked weed and talked shit.

To make matters a lil worse..
The next day – I got ill. My stomach was completely fucked. I could no longer digest food.

After only 24hours of being in Lima, I decided I definitely hated it. Luciano had made promises of me making money, getting Mancora Fest sorted and staying in his beautiful house in Asia (an area just outside Lima in the countryside). By Tuesday it became apparent that none of these things were possible for one reason or another. Instead I was haemorrhaging the very last of my money, I was ill, I was losing yet more weight due to said illness, I was exhausted and I was fucking miserable. A few days later it became apparent that being in Lima was worse than being in Mancora. Especially being in a big city without a mobile phone.

But there was hope, the reggae festival was coming up that weekend – the weekend before my birthday and I was looking forward to it. Andrea (Luciano’s wife) had contacts that would mean we could get in free and be VIP’s.

Thursday was the dullest day ever. Lucian, Andrea, Luciano’s uncle and my good self just drove around in a hot car all day, around a polluted dirty city in the middle of summer. I just intermittently passed out on the back seat.

Thank god for The Team
Luckily - Victoria and Liz showed up on Friday, it was to be Liz’s last night of her travels as she was flying back to England on Saturday. And she was dreading it. They were staying at Kokopelli Hostel in Miraflores, not far from Luciano’s house.

Victoria had arrived with a new man – Eric. After the last complete fuckwit Mancorian arsehole she’d convinced herself that she liked, I approved of Eric. He was older, from Lima and he seemed normal and nice. Good news for Victoria.

I spent most of the weekend really ill. Myself, Victoria, Liz, Emily, Sofia and 3:59 (don’t know her real name, but the girls call her 3:59 because all night she sits there trout-gobbed and miserable but at 3:59 the booze will kick in and she’ll get on the dance floor and go wild) hit the town. Sofia was Victoria and Liz’s friend that they met in Mancora, I didn’t know her (yet); she’s from Lima so she showed us around.

I really tried to stay out. I really did. It was Liz’s last night I couldn’t be lame. But my stomach beat me. I didn’t even drink – that’s how ill I was but eventually I puked up in the bathroom of a club and got sent home by the team. The shame.

Saturday was reggae festival day. Luciano had been busy all week – he hadn’t even stopped to eat or sleep and by Saturday he’d finished everything he needed to do, but he was too exhausted to go to the festival and I was very ill. So it didn’t happen. I was disappointed.

Liz had reluctantly gone home to England. I hung out with Victoria and Eric for the rest of the weekend, but couldn’t go out at night – I didn’t want a repeat of the Friday night vomiting extravaganza and it wasn’t worth it.

Victoria and I spoke a lot about what I should do and where I should go and everything that was going on in my head. She clarified everything for me: “The problem is you’re emotionally and financially fucked. You can handle one of those things but not both at the same time.”

She was almost 100% right.

Why ‘almost’?

Because politely, she’d missed out ‘physically fucked’.

So that was me in a nutshell. I’d gone from being a reasonably attractive, fairly successful, strong, confident woman – to a complete mess, in a month. My travels were going so well. But it couldn’t last. I wanted it too. Financially - it could only work in Mancora – and that would mean going back to everything I’d run away from: the bullshit, the lies and the emotional turmoil. But I could make money there, try to save up and carry on.

My cousin had offered me the option of going to Mexico – but that would be without any money and relying on someone else to look after me. Even though Bella's my cousin I didn’t feel completely comfortable with the idea, but it was an option that I was considering.

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