Peru 2014 Day 15: July 7- Airline Hands us a Lemon

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At around two in the morning, I realized that we never let the limo company know that my brother-in-law volunteered to pick us up at the airport.  (THANX DAVE!)  Luckily we were using the service my company’s sales reps depend on, meaning they were equipped to handle panicked middle of the night phone calls from foreign lands.

The previous night’s delayed settling, added to that panicked call caused me to sleep in a bit and wake up to find Rosa’s friend Mery visiting with her two sons, Ian and Gabriel. 

The boys were both sweet and apparently thrilled to see me, running up to bestow hugs and smiles.  I thought perhaps I had maintained my lifelong immediate connection with children.

That may have been part of it, but I learned later that the two of them were warned to behave before I woke up because, “Uncle Jeff is HUGE!”

Yet another culture hitting me with that epithet –

I’d start to develop a complex if I wasn’t so proud of being a large fur bearing mammal.

Concho stopped in to say her goodbyes as well. 

Once the nifty morning visit was completed; Rosa took her mom for a theoretical last market run and to stock up on Chaplin’s (Peruvian ‘Nilla Wafers with labels referencing the famous comedian) and other not available in the US snacks to smuggle home.

Anabelle and I sat together and rested.  With almost all of her stuff packed, boredom set in. Both of us having slightly upset stomachs didn’t help matters, leaving us in the middle of the Capital of South American cuisine, but only able to take in sports drinks, power bars and bread.

Reunited, we three took our final bus ride to the beach, where Rosa and Anabelle waded this time.  The waves were much more of a rolling calm, but some big ones at the end still got them.  I was not responsible for my family getting “gotten” unlike another member of my marriage that I could mention.

We made some more discoveries among the beach rocks brought up by the earlier storm surf.  There were sponges, pumice, and something my wife called “Meat Stone.”  (That probably loses a little gracefulness in the translation.)

We took our last Peruvian bus home, with me riding side saddle once again.  If the traffic was marginally less insane, I would have been tempted to ride on top of them for safety’s sake.

Anabelle spent some Abuelita snuggle time while Rosa went to recover the last of our clothes from the laundry before lunch.

We were stuck with the anti-rumbling duo of rice and macaroni, but Anabelle’s stomach had recovered afterwards.  This freed her up to share a final Donofrio Time with her Mother. 

She had her Frio Rico, the Peruvian version of a King Cone,

while Rosa had her Jet Lucuma, the Peruvian version of a Premium Ice Cream bar.  Instead of vanilla, Rosa’s had Lucuma. 

Lucuma is that orange Peruvian ice cream that tastes like…

Um…

That orange Peruvian ice cream.

Rosa had one final(ish) outing with her mom to change the last of our Soles back into homeward currency.

We had checked in for our flight a little after midnight the night before, and I thought it might be a good idea to use my daily brief internet access to check the status to determine how much rushing and panicking we’d need to employ to make the airport.

It turned out no rushing was needed, but that was balanced out by a considerable amount of extra panicking as the airline had sent us an e-mail about fifteen minutes after check in was confirmed stating our flight was cancelled.

Anabelle’s psychic tether to home had been stretched too far for too long, and the news broke something in her. I tried desperately to maintain my hysteria to levels that would allow me to calm her down.

I believe I succeeded, based on the fact I was able to get outside to let Conchito in (who came to stay with Abuelita when we theoretically left) and get us all back into the apartment without being locked out.

Rosa returned, and we freaked out at her for a bit before initiating a torrent of phone calls and e-mails to the people who would be expecting us in their hemisphere the next day.

There were also calls to our carrier, since we had trip insurance.  Since the flight was cancelled due to “lack of crew” they filed it under “they just didn’t want to fly” and the insurance didn’t count.  Yay.

Our finely weighed and sealed suitcases were burst open to dig out clothes, pills and toothbrushes for the extra day.  We didn’t bother trying to unpack the air mattress, as the inflator was dead.  For one night we found random other places around the apartment to sleep.  Rosa took the living room couch, and I crushed a small folding cushion into the permanent imprint of my shape.

We played some writing and drawing games and then talked for a long while as Anabelle’s adrenaline overdose kept her from sleeping.

I was certainly too mature and seasoned to let a little travel set back affect me enough to alter my nightly slumber patterns.

Once I finished the last four hundred pages of Illuminatus, I went right to bed.

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