The Beach Slum

  Uncle David's House      I woke up feeling like ass, and like I had to poop, which I hate, because every toilet here has such a low flush pressure. I can't wait to crack an American toilet bowl again. My poop was green  and liquid. I was still in my PJs, and Grandma doesn't like not getting dressed before breakfast, but there was only one person who could help me: Uncle Dirk.     Dude, can you believe this poor guy has to deal with his niece telling him all about her bowel movements? And everything else I tell him. A moment of silence and mad respect for my uncle.     I pulled him aside from his breakfast, and delicately asked for his Imodium. He gave me instructions, and that was that. Two Pepto Bismols later, and I thought I was good. We were leaving for the store anyway.     The store was... such  a culture shock. Eggs not refrigerated-- even though I knew they wouldn't be, and I knew why-- and produce verified before the ...

  Grandma's House     Okay. I had another bad spell today. I sequestered myself in my room, and watched Flash for six hours, drifting in and out of sleep. I have no explanation. I had a great morning, and then... my mind betrayed me. By all accounts, my morning was great. Lots of laughs; this new job seriously wants me, and I wasn't anxious for the fifth interview at all. Stephanie's friend said nothing but encouraging words, and I was absolutely vibing.     And then...     I'm not sure what the trigger was. I think the issue is that some of my triggers are so little that I don't even notice until I'm already spiraling. I don't know what it was. I wrote in my phone's notes, so here they are; my thought log:          You know, I think I always knew I was forgettable. I didn't think I was quite that easy to forget. Maybe I was wrong. I spend my life forcing my existence on people, in my mind, so I created this system of giving pe...

  Grandma's House     I had the best day today. Uncle Dirk and I went to some museums and hung around Lima for an entire day. We tried to see the changing of the guards, but they weren't doing them anymore cause of COVID. We found this cool looking building on our way there, at least. So instead we got lunch at this total hole in the wall. I was skeptical at first, but it turns out they made my FAVORITE dish that my mom always made, and I assumed she just slapped it together, but no!!  That's a legitimate dish. I was in love. Even though the bathroom was the size of a utility closet, and you had to wash your hands in the same sink as the kitchen, and the "water" wasn't water at all, but some kind of lukewarm tea.     The first course of ceviche practically melted in my mouth, and my second dish, my favorite, was split peas, rice, and fish. My whole life, I swear, I assumed Mom made that patchwork dish for maximum protein. I was wrong! Never had I been happi...

  Grandma's House, the Porch Swing     Sometimes I am so childish that I make myself mad, and no amount of practiced empathy-- because really, I don't have a naturally empathetic bone in my body-- can help. And so I just sit and stew and sulk, because for all the life lessons I got in the whole "my feelings don't really matter" front, I still, for the absolute life of me, make my negative emotions everyone else's problem. I have the self control of a child begging to be loved, in a very desperate sort of way.     Probably even less than that. As a baby I was probably the same-- selfish and desperate-- and why should that change? Christ. I keep forcing myself because I think I'm better than that, and I always wish I was, and man, I really thought I could be.     Someone take a shot for every comma, or every time I said "really." Don't think I'm not self aware. That's what keeps me so humble.     And still, a desperate child desperately...

  Grandma's House     Aunt Patty made it very clear she prefers Stephanie. I can't blame her, and it's a common theme, but everyone else has at least made an effort at trying to focus on me. Honestly, that whole thing really hurt my feelings. Like, you could've just FaceTimed her and had more fun, clearly. We went to a mad weird White but Hispanic Country Club, El Bosque. Its vibe is "I'm having an affair with my tennis instructor."     The whole time, I was a mouthpiece for Stephanie, Sierra, and David. I WAS RIGHT THERE!     And all she wanted to know about was Stephanie. Melanie turned out surprisingly cool, with equal levels of trauma. I had fun with her. We ditched Aunt Patty and Uncle Sergio and got tipsy instead. I love that energy. She reminded me of me.     This next part is going to make me sound shallow and materialistic. Originally Aunt Patty had said she was getting gifts for me and  Sierra. When I left her car, everything w...

  Surf House Chicama, 7:53am EST/4:53am PST     I leave today, and I woke up with a splitting headache. 3 ibuprofen should fix that. I hope.     Aunt Patty is being so weird that Stephanie's wondering if the tarot cards she read before I left were actually warning me about Aunt Patty. A betrayal I should've seen coming. Stephanie said I was letting Aunt Patty dominate my schedule, and that it had been like that from the very beginning-- Mom's side and Dad's side fighting for control of our trips-- but I don't care enough to tell her to lay off. I only care enough to actually do it.     Why the surprise, Patricia? Are you really so shocked that I'd hate your mother and mine?     God, her side of the family is dense as fuck.     Gotta finish packing.     J

  Surf House Chicama     I spent all day sleeping because I was hungry and couldn't find any food. Everything was closed. The drawback to being two hours out of a main city, and almost totally isolated. My hair has no conditioner because I forgot it, so I can't comb it. It's a mess. I leave tomorrow, and with the turn things took, I'm worried about the taxi for tomorrow.     I sent a message to the owner but have yet to receive a reply. I'm worried she's going to forget and there'll be no way for me to get to the Trujillo Airport on time, and I'll miss my flight. I don't want  to miss my flight. I want conditioner and good Wi-Fi and food that is open from an early hour.     Honestly, I want Canes.     Overall, I'm cranky.     Bye. PS: the lady answered, and she'll organize the taxi for tomorrow. Now just the small business of handling the Aunt Patty thing.

  Surf House Chicama     Well, I just figured out why I'm sick. I have food poisoning from the lettuce in the burger. Just from the bottom, and general weakness, but I have sprite, water, and Gatorade. I got Chips Ahoy too, as close to crackers as I could find in this little town. I've exhausted half my Pepto supply, and I think  the diarrhea is slowing down. My stomach is still angry.     So I'm relaxing now. I went to the beach for a few hours, came back, and the wild rumpus started. I managed to get the provisions, came back, pooped, slept, pooped, drank Sprite, pooped, ate another Pepto, slept. Rinse and repeat.     I watched Enola Holmes in the middle of all of this-- I love that movie-- and, while moving is still a discomfort, via either the food poisoning or the surfing, all else seems to be well. I'm watching my sick movies: romcoms and old DCOMs.      Gotta go.

  Surf House Chicama, 7:42am EST/4:42am PST     The weather is cloudy, and will continue to be cloudy, but it still looks incredible. I hope wetsuits counteract the cold.     (Also my wet hair stained the pillowcase. I cannot with the red.)     see ya after my surfing lesson!

  Surf House Chicama, La Libertad, Peru     Holy. Shit. I'm writing from my balcony. I can hear the waves, and I can see the sea. Ha.     Okay, so Uncle Dirk and Grandma's driver took me to the airport for my flight, and I was really nervous. Lima's got an international airport, so English, while uncommon, is still possible, but Trujillo-- and by extension, Chicama-- is smaller, and domestic. Since it was domestic, there wasn't as much to worry about as if it was international. I even had three conversations with my Rs rolling and everything!     The taxi here was almost two hours, and I was worried about being kidnapped. But I was delivered safe and sound, and the woman who runs this place seems very nice. My security fears were assuaged.     The room is incredibly spacious. I have a balcony, two beds-- I needed the sea view, and the only room open with one was a two-bed-- an expansive shower, and large windows that fully open to the sound a...

  Grandma's House, 11:23pm EST/8:23pm PST     I had so much fun today! Uncle Dirk, Jenny, and I went to explore the catacombs, and then we did some shopping at the nearby markets, got tipsy on Pisco Sours-- a Peru Libre aka a rum and coke, for my favorite uncle-- and had to wait for the driver at Uncle David's house, and I had. So much fun. After we were tipsy, we traipsed around Peru on these closed streets to better reach good photo backgrounds, and pretended we didn't speak Spanish when cops told us to leave. After some grumbling, they chalked us up to gringos, and didn't cause a fuss. As soon as we were clear, I burst into giggles.      Uncle David hadn't seen me in seventeen years.  And originally thought I was Catherine. Based on his wedding pictures, I see where he got that idea. I look so different from six year old me, but Catherine back then looked like I do now. But still. Ugh. Uncle Dirk quickly explained, sotto voce, that we don't get alon...

  Grandma Ysabel's, 2:18am EST/11:18pm PST     Well. I think Stephanie might've had a point. Right off the bat, it was a conversation about Dad, and how she wanted to call to let him know I was safe, despite me saying multiple times: WE. DON'T. TALK. She was saying over and over that she felt obligated, and she tried to make Uncle Dirk call, but not even he wanted to, and that's his brother.     Also, the water shuts off at a certain time sometimes-- ah, country living! How I don't miss you!-- and I can't shower. 24 hours, three states, and two countries, in these sweats, and I can't shower. Oh my god. And there's no AC. I'm sweaty, despite an opened window, and stinky.     It's 2am here, but only 11pm Vegas. I miss my room and Tomato. I miss having to turn a space heater on because it's so cold.     Good night (I hope)!

  Detroit Airport, 6:45am EST/3:45am PST     I am good in this airport! Even though the Zzzs to be had were majorly disappointing. The guy next to me on my flight from LAS → DTW? Took up two seats of leg space. My poor back.     The only dislike about the Detroit Airport is that I'm so close to Canada that Verizon geolocated me there, but I can't watch Flash, because I'm "roaming." Except texts, calls, data (up to .5gb/day) is free in Canada (and Mexico), so...     Anyway, I was happy with this because my connection was only two gates down and I managed to resist both the blankets and hot coffee for sale. First of all, I have plenty of blankets, and I'm an iced coffee girl. But it's 22 degrees and snowing.  Get me to the Southern Hemisphere ASAP.     This is a friendly reminder that I would have frozen in my East Coast life dreams.     Ooh! We're about to board.     TTYL

    I only did two things prior to going to the airport: packing, and taking pictures for CNN in the event I get lost. Missing White Woman Syndrome is real , and I wanted to have every advantage. If I was cute, maybe they'd give me more coverage. Or... if I was a turnip... Anyway, I'm digressing to the actual journal now. She remembers it best.