Flights to Peru: The Longest Day:
Thirty Hours to Cusco

October 3, 2:30 a.m., preparing to embark on one of many daily flights to Peru: wake up for a 6 a.m. departure. We spent our first three-hour Miami layover having lunch with our local family, and then we were off to Peru around dinner time. Our second three-hour layover came about thirty minutes after take-off when a cracked airplane windshield sent us back to Miami. After the announcement, the captain paused, as if we weren’t already a little rattled, and said, “We are instructed to land on a shorter runway, so don’t worry about the standby fire crew. They are there just in case.” (Just in case of what?)

The landing was flawless, and after a brief cheer of relief, the crew and passengers, now somewhat bonded from our emergency landing, waited for nearly three hours for our new plane. The crew passed out $10 vouchers for snacks, and the passengers elbowed one another aside to be first, or second – anything but 150th or worse. Finally, we were off again, this time for real. We made it to Peru at 2 a.m. Would you say that it took two flights to Peru to finally get there?

After our flights to Peru, we landed safely in Lima. As Francisco, our limo driver dropped us off at our Victorian-style hotel at three in the morning, he said, “Be ready at 7 a.m.” He wasn’t joking! He showed up before 7, and we were off again. Unlike last night’s quiet drive through streets populated by low wage sweepers wearing sanitary masks, Lima’s hectic daytime streets were filled with hundreds of cars built in the 80’s, and taxi-buses. Overcrowded is an understatement. And the locals drive as if their lives depend on urgency! The trip back to the airport was an adventure. I lost count of how many cars we cut off. We were ready for the next leg in our series of flights to Peru to get to our final destination: Cuzco.

Arriving in the valley of Cuzco around 10:45 a.m., Jonathan greeted us with a big white sign that read, “Shawn Marshall, Terry, Ann.” He drove us over to the school, Maximo Nivel, where we immediately tested into our appropriate Spanish classes. We start tomorrow morning! We then received our itineraries and headed over to meet our host families.

My parents have an awesome private entry mini-suite with their own bath, separate from the main house. Their host mother, Sonja, greeted us like part of the family. We then met her husband Carlos and their sixteen year old son, Rafael, their maid Alicia, and their German Sheppard, Rocky. Oh, and did I mention Alle, a twenty-three year old from the Midwest studying Spanish and volunteering on local projects. She’s scheduled to move to the school’s hostel on Saturday.

By this point, the only two things on my mind were food and sleep. Sonja, a chef by trade, met my first need: our first real meal in two days, yeeees! Grilled pollo, rice, and hot soup, muy bien!! Before I left to meet my host family, Sonja offered me my own private-entry suite as well. I thanked her and said I will keep that in mind.

Jonathan carried my luggage the one block, which in Spanish is really three blocks, to my new home. Benita, the maid, greeted us. She walked me up to the second floor, glided across the hard wood floors on two pieces of cloth, so as not to leave tracks, past the four bedrooms, and up to the third floor, my suite.

A few minutes later, Catherine, my new “mother,” fresh out of the shower, greeted us, and said, “Mi casa es su casa.” I then met seven-year-old Manuel and eight-year-old Alexandra. By now, I had only one mission; SLEEP!!

I woke up to a quiet house in the early evening, and was greeted by the maid, Benita. She had freshly cooked pollo and rice, with a potato sauce. Muy bien!! I grabbed a llave from Benita and walked over to Sonja’s, just in time for another meal, though I opted only for the delicious Peruvian coffee. The whole family was there. We talked in English for the first thirty minutes, and then remembered why we were here: to learn Spanish.

We spent the rest of the evening in great conversation, in Spanish. My Spanish was the most basic, as was quickly evident. I listened more than I spoke. My focus was sharp, as it felt like I was driving 90 mph down a super highway, trying to read each billboard. As long as I didn’t contribute, I more or less understood the general theme of the conversation. But as soon as a question came my way, my comprehension dropped to about minus 10. And my responses were worse, like a toddler who can’t speak sentences yet, and only poorly forms single words.

I’m content though. I am having a blast, giving 100%, and there is no place I would rather be.

--Posted by Shawn, October 4


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