Procrastination at its Finest

I've just one question: what did I do to procrastinate writing papers in college...before the blogging age? I can't remember. It was too long ago.

This post is brought to you by the letters P-R-O-C-R-A-S-T-I-N-A-T-I-O-N and the number 7 (remember that from Sesame Street? Why did they do that? Granted, they didn't spell out 5 syllable words...if they had, we might all be smarter for it!).

All right, here's the deal. I go to Harvard. Actually, Havahd. That's right, folks. I'm a student at one of the most prestigious Ivy League schools in America. What I am always quick to add is that I go to what is essentially Harvard Community College. That pretty much took all the prestige out of my Ivy League-ness, didn't it?

Harvard has what they call the Harvard Extension School. I like to think that they are the same professors, same classes, same difficulty...just offered to the Average Jane. There's no application, just enroll in the classes, pay tuition, and you can start earning undergrad or graduate credits with a Harvard sticker on it. Not too bad! I'm taking an Art History course on two American painters from the late 19th-century: James McNeill Whistler (Arrangement in Grey and Black: Portrait of the Painter's Mother, right) and John Singer Sargeant (The Daughters of Edward D. Boit, below) (apparently, back in the late-1800s it was en vogue to have three names...maybe I'll bring it back. Just call me Amy Rebecca B****). The course material has been fascinating. The field trip to the Museum of Fine Arts and the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (note the three names again) was spectacular. My professor is interesting and well-read. All good things.

It has been slightly over 5 years since I graduated from the BYU. I've matured, become more responsible, adopted adult behaviors, etc. I thought at the beginning of the semester, I would for sure get on top of writing the paper that is due at the last class. I would write an outline, seek peer review, talk the subject matter over with my professor, engage in serious study and research, discover hidden gems of knowledge, and basically write the most incredible paper of my academic career. After all, I am 5 years older and wiser and have most definitely kicked my procrastination habit of yesteryear.

Hmmm....maybe I should outline that procrastination habit. It's a term familiar with many of the 18-24 crowd: the all-nighter. Yes, friends, I was the queen of nocturnal genius. I would procrastinate and stress for 4 months and then, finally, when the fear of failure and (Heaven forbid!) a grade lower than a B- threatened to embarrass me and my GPA, I would set to work.

My wonderful boss at the ORCA office would let me stay late. I would gear up with a 16-0z. Cherry Coke (most definitely bought off-campus) and all the books I could possibly find from the library remotely related to my topic and head to the 2nd floor of the ASB. I would spread out all my sources and start scouring. Going through, roughly, 2 pads of sticky notes, I would mark all relevant passages in between swigs of Cherry Coke and a quick run to the basement vending machines (which--in the dark building, at night, and all by myself--totally creeped me out) for Peanut M&Ms. Sometime around midnight, my brother, Brian, would call me up and see how I was doing. He was always good like that.

I would work tirelessly, melding quotes and paraphrased ideas into workable thoughts. I delighted in using the thesaurus to find interesting words that, while still sounding like my own "voice," would make me also sound like a scholar (sure fooled them!). I'd experiment with various fonts and letter spacing to make 2 measly 3-sentence paragraphs (double-spaced) fill the entire page, along with strategically placed images that had been carefully resized to be as large as possible without looking fuzzy. Yes, I had mastered the art of all-night paper writing.

Sometime around 7am, my boss would show up. Bleary-eyed and haggard, I would smile at him and say good morning. He learned to not be surprised to find me there the next morning. My late-night paper writing became a normal thing because I repeated the process every semester for the 3 1/2 years I worked at ORCA.

I would then head off to class, hoping to make it on time to turn my paper in. And, I may be bragging a touch, but I don't recall ever getting a grade lower than an A- on my research papers. I was pretty good at pressure-writing.

But, a lot can change in 5 years. As we've already established: I still procrastinate. Now, my fear is that I a) won't have the stamina to pull an all-nighter and b) have lost the nocturnal research-paper-writing genius that carried me through college. What if part of growing up is losing that seemingly innate ability to wordsmith and compose intelligent-sounding phrases out of the thin, 3am air??

If so, I'm sunk.

The paper is due Monday evening. I'll almost definitely be consulting sources in a frenzy and prying my eyelids open around 2am that morning. Hmmm...after a five-year all-nighter hiatus, maybe I'd better make it a 2-liter Cherry Coke.

Can it be?? A post?!

Oh friends...I wish I could say, "For all of you who still check my blog with some frequency (because you haven't discovered Google Reader yet), I'm going to reward you with a juicy post full of exciting adventures!"

Yep. I *wish* I could say that.

So, here's the latest: It's almost April. The last time I posted was in November. Early-November. Yikes. I think it is high time I catch you all up on the adventures of a Bostonian-in-the-making.

Shortly after my last post in November, I took a position working for Fidelity Investments in their Real Estate division. I am [sigh] a peon. I work for the Design and Architecture group and it seemed kinda cushy and easy.

Until recently.

I am now working a TON, always busy, and slowly going crazy. I guess in a good way...if that's possible! I work with nice people and am busy. Though I feel that I am smarter than my job, it pays the bills and there are definitely opportunities to progress within Fidelity if I so choose. That is a nice thought.

Throughout the past 6 months, I have made a number of fabulous friends. It's difficult to put into words how incredible the people are here. I have met genuine friends who are wonderful, fun, down-to-Earth and really exceptional. And probably more amazing is that I continue to meet stellar people on a weekly basis! Just this weekend I have gotten to know more fantastic friends and I couldn't feel more blessed. I don't mean to offend Mom and Dad, but I haven't been homesick for even a moment here in Boston.

The holidays were very fun. My fantastic sister and brother-in-law, Jen and Mike, drove from Detroit, MI to Boston with my adorable niece, Taryn to spend Thanksgiving with me. My dear friend, Neal, came in from Washington DC, too. It was a blast to have family and close friends to share my *first* Thanksgiving dinner! It was a real rite of passage for me. I cooked the turkey and everything! My dear mother coached me through every step and made sure to have her phone on her at all times should any turkey-crisis arise.

December was spent surviving the cold in Boston and then off to Utah for a very short (I had no vacation time accrued yet) and very sick (we all got the stomach flu) Christmas holiday. It was absolutely miserable to travel from Boston to Utah and back. I was so happy to be with my family, but next year, I'm going to Bermuda!

The New Year came in with a bang! I had a visit from my good friend, Luke, and started 2008 off right by celebrating my birthday with so many of my amazing friends! 27 is looking to be an extremely good year.

A week later, off to NYC for a weekend adventure with my amazing and forever-friend, Tiffany! Friends since high school, folks! And still going strong! She was wonderful and did a number of "touristy" things with me, fed me, let me sleep in her roommates bed (don't tell the roommate!) and introduced me to a number of her good friends! This woman is definitely the hostess with the mostess! I adore her.

I still have so much to say. Considering the frequency with which I post, however, you can expect that one to come sometime around 2010.

The Fake Money Fiasco (April 23, 2007)

Continuing my promised recap of my travels, we're back in Peru! Enjoy!

Monday morning we got up and found that the guarantee of 24-hour hot water was untrue. As we left, I paid the desk 100 soles and they gave me 50 soles back. Since no one takes big bills, I asked for sencillo (smaller bills) and was given two 20s and a 10.

We headed out to see Qoricancha and the Templo del Sol. We got a guide, Raul, and he took us through. We asked a lot of questions and were amazed at what we learned about the Inca religion. They believed in different different levels of the world, a trinity of sorts, consisting of the Father (thunder), the Son (lightning bolt), and the Brother (the lightning). We thought that was a pretty fascinating parallel to what we believe. There were temples to the sun, the moon, and stars...and a great veneration for the dead. Extremely interesting.

At the end of our tour, we had to pay Raul 15 soles for our tour. I gave him a 20 and, of course, he doesn't have 5 soles change and probably expected us to pay the 20 soles and call it good. But I was determined to only give him 15. He was good, but not that good! So we went to the desk at the entrance and asked the girl for smaller bills. Unable to conceal a smile, she barely glances as the 20 I had put down on the counter and says "Es falso" Fake?! What?! Raul said it wasn't and he'd take it anyway. I was so upset. I felt like it was all part of a big ploy to get our money...he doesn't have change, she won't exchange it because it's "fake." Aughhhh! Finally we gave him a 10 and 6 soles in coins. I asked for one back and got it (yes, I was being very tight-fisted). I was just completely floored by this supposed fake bill.

Alison had gotten a tutorial from a store owner the day before on fake money and compared the bill to another that we had and informed me that it was indeed fake. It was missing a watermark number, the security strip was on the wrong side...dang it! I had gotten that bill from the hotel that morning and was upset that they'd slipped me a fake bill!

We went to the Qorikancha museum that is under the grounds of Qorikancha (which is also a Dominican monastery) and it looked like a seventh grade fair exhibit. A number of the timelines and informative displays were made with construction paper and glue sticks! There were some items, pottery, replicas, photos and drawings, but nothing too fabulous. We followed the museum through to the end and the exit, which was up some stairs. The exit, however, did not lead back to the street. Rather, it opened to the middle of the fenced-off grounds. We popped our heads out and I asked Alison if she felt a bit like a gopher :)

We went back to the hotel to get our bags and I told the woman at the front desk, as non-confrontational as I could possibly be, that I had been given fake money when we checked out that morning. I showed her and I really didn't expect her to do anything about it. I mean, we had already left and could have gotten the bill somewhere else (which we hadn't). But, surprisingly, she called the girl who'd given me the wrong bill and the guy who had checked people in the night before. Apparently one of them accepted a false bill and that is how it got to me. After 20 to 25 minutes, the owner gave me a new 20 soles bill and I thanked her profusely for making it right. So good of her.

While we had been waiting for the other employees to show up, she gave me a lesson in fake money and how to recognize it. It made me all skeptical, so I checked all my bills. One suggestion was to "snap" the bill by tugging on it, to check if it was paper (fake) or cotton (real). As I was snapping one of the bills, I ripped the corner off a 20 soles bill! [Underestimated my own strength!] Alison was probably thinking, "Way to go, Amy!" It was kind of funny, after the whole issue we'd just gone through! The ripped corner automatically made it undesirable/unusable. Good grief!

I'm not dead yet...

Due to my inability to regularly blog, few people even know I'm on the North American continent. SO, this is for all of you who have checked my blog within the last six months and been annoyed that there is nothing new!

When I returned to Kansas City from my fantastic trip to Chile and Peru (April 2007), I went back to my recruiting job in Overland Park. I was living with Mom and Dad--ultra-comfortable--and trying, desperately, to figure out where I wanted to be. I was too comfortable. And if you ever get to the point where you're too comfortable and it's starting to bug you, you know you need to seriously shake up your life.

I worked through the summer and tried to avoid being offered a permanent job as a recruiter. I worked with nice people, however, 50-60 hours a week recruiting and interviewing and doing all that jazz really got old fast. I was planning on moving somewhere but wanted to keep my job until the moving actually was a reality. So, I worked hard and a lot of hours, but did my best to avoid any talk about hiring me on permanently.

The plan all along had been to move to Washington DC. I know people there, love the city, and just needed to be around other young professionals. I was tired of feeling "old" in my social circles. I am, for the record, not old and was getting tired of the wide-eyed looks I occasionally received from the 20 and under crowd when I told them that not only had I graduated from college, but I'd also served a mission and worked for over two years!! With those quick high school math skills they hadn't had time to lose, they realized very fast that all that means Amy=old.

So, plunging myself into a young professionals atmosphere seemed like the right thing! Of course, being an adept waffler, I wasn't sure what to do. Jen put a little bug in my ear for Boston. I remember saying, "Sure, Jen. Right!" But, as I thought more and more on it, I thought why not. I definitely knew fewer people in Boston and was excited for an opportunity to spread my wings a little further. There's safety and comfort in going where you know people. I needed to get uncomfortable!

As I thought more on Boston, it seemed like a good option. And I am SO glad that I chose it! It has been one of the best changes of my life. Growing up, I hated changed. Loathed it. Now, I kind of relish it! I love meeting new people and having new experiences. I will try to be better about posting and let you know how my adventures in Boston go. Again, most of you know me...and well, let's just say "Don't hold your breath." :)

She's alive!!!

Hello friends and family...anyone who still looks at this blog every now and then. I'm so sorry that I haven't done a good job of posting. I can't guarantee that I will be better in the future, but maybe when thing settle down a bit...just maybe.

Well, the latest news. I'm a Bostonian! Toward the latter half of August, I packed up my car with all my belongings (all that would fit in a Camry, at least) and headed East. It was an adventure!! I love a good adventure!

Along the way I got to visit some wonderful friends and family. I stopped in on Becky Jo to see how she was doing. She had brain surgery (!) recently and I am SO happy to see that she's doing better!

Years and miles may pass, but things never really change with your best friend, huh? :)

This is a picture with Becky, her husband, Brett, and their latest addition, Spencer.



Unfortunately, it was a short visit. I made a quick trip into Omaha to see my friend, Sheri. She was approximately 10 months pregnant at the time. However, I was unable to get any photos of her and Bryce, her little boy, because my batteries were dead. I'm not sure she would have let me take a picture of her anyway!

I drove across Iowa...dark and stormy-like. It was an overcast day and the drive was long. But it was beautiful. My friend, Jenny, was so sweet to put me up for the evening. It was fun to see my "nieces," Addy and Brinley. They're adorable!

I arrived in Detroit the next night to the open arms of my sister, Jenn. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to leave Detroit, really. The roads were awful and it was pretty hot and humid, but it was so much fun to spend time with Jenn and Taryn. Poor Mike had to work some pretty ridiculous hours which meant that Jenn and I had lots of time together. Taryn was the funnest. Yes, the funnest. She is such a doll.

I know this post is seriously lacking in substance and charm but it is after 2 a.m. Please forgive me and I hope to do some more updating soon-ish. Stay tuned!

I'm too Sacsay....(April 22, 2007 continued)

There was a sign for Sacsayhuaman (pronounced, and I'm not joking, "sexy woman") and we asked someone where those ruins were...he told us over the hill. So, we climbed and rested, climbed some more and couldn't find any ruins! At the top of the hill, we asked again, and some ladies said, "No! You need to go down the hill (yeah, the one on which we'd just exhausted ourselves to climb it) and take the bus." Alison, always humoring me, follows me on the "short cuts" that I find. They never are short cuts, though. But Alison continues to walk along with me anyway.

We finally got on a bus and were dropped off at the road leading to Sacsayhuaman. We passed a man weaving a brightly colored poncho on a loom (takes him 8 days to weave the fabric, he said). Along the way, there were canchas (soccer fields) surrounded by sunken ruins. Taxistas (taxi drivers), with their taxis parked along the canchas, were drinking beer--makes ya feel safe on the road, huh?

We arrived at the grassy expanse in front of the ruins and sat there, trying to avoid the hawkers and tour guide offerings. Alison pulled out a set of headphones attached to nothing and "listened to music" while I buried my nose in my book. The ruins at Sacsayhuaman were pretty incredible. Three tiers of rock walls zig-zag along the grass. The stones fit perfectly one into another. It was amazing. All done with out concrete or mortar. Just stone upon stone, fitted to perfection. Maybe a jigsaw puzzle of the gods.

We climbed up and took a good look at the sun calendar. It was high above Cusco and the view was incredible. We were exhausted, though. We had walked about seven hours that day. With that in mind, we considered taking a taxi back to town but I didn't want to pay eight soles so we walked. It turned out to be a very pleasant, downhill, 15 minute walk.

On our way down, in San Blas, we were solicited by two competing restaurants (literally across the street from each other). We opted for Tuco, the restaurant by which I had been solicited. Our goal that night was to eat traditional Peruvian cuisine. Peru has nothing on Chile for sophistication, however their cuisine is, without a doubt, superior to Chile's. I opted for the alpaca a la plancha (alpaca steak) and Alison, brave soul that she is, ordered cuy (guinea pig!).

The salads were amazing...we'd really been missing fresh vegetables. That was probably the highlight of the meal. I tried Inca Cola (the flavor of Peru) and it wasn't too bad. Finally the big moment arrived. The main course! The alpaca steak was a grayish rectangle accompanied with slightly soggy fries. Nothing too exciting or worth writing home about. Alison's cuy, though...well, a picture speaks 1000 words. Just take a look. It was one of the most disgusting things I had ever seen!! She ordered a half cuy...cut right down the middle from head to tail. It laid flat, de-haired...cooked with a brown glaze on it. There was a head (no eyese, no teeth) and a front paw WITH claws!!! Ugh! I still have fleeting, disgusting thoughts of that little clawed, cooked paw moving up and down, trying to lift its dead, cooked corpse off the plate. Mmmm!! Eat up!

It was divided in 3 parts (head, upper body, and lower body). Alison bravely peeled back the skin of the upper body and tried to find some meat. Let's just put it this way: half a guinea pig contain much meat. She cut a little piece off and tried it. I tasted a teeny bit. Ugh! It tasted like it'd been cooked in the same oil used to fry the trout they were advertising that night. Not at all to my liking.

I ate my alpaca and fries and Alison tried some of mine. When Javier, the guide/university student at Puca Pucara, cornered us out there, he told us he was also a chef! Talk about a Renaissance man! He told us he would give us a discount if we came to his restaurant that night. We asked what kind of food they prepared and specifically asked about cuy and alpaca. He assured us that they served cuy and real alpaca. He warned us about restaurants that dishonestly serve regular mea rather than alpaca. Alpaca meat, he informed us, should be different. He said, "It should be soft, like your own flesh." Alison, without missing a beat, responded, "Well, I've never tried my own flesh." It was hilarious. Javier didn't get it.

So, my alpaca was a little tough and chewy...maybe it wasn't alpaca, but it was different than anything else I'd tried. Alison couldn't finish her cuy...and I couldn't blame her! I tried another, larger piece, just to make sure...and yep. It still tasted gross. The thought of that half guinea pig on a plate still gives me the heebie jeebies!! We checked out the skull...flipped it over and morbidly checked out the brains. Ick. As we picked at the cuy, the waiter told us that you normally eat it like you would ribs or a chicken leg...just pick it up in your hands and dig in. Skin and all. Blech.

After "dessert" of fruit (I don't understand how South Americans think that fruit is dessert!!) for Alison and a panqueque con dulce de leche for me, we walked back to the hostel and got ready for bed. I felt like the walking dead!! I was bushed! Dinner had been so hilarious because we were tired...and because Alison had half a rodent on her plate.

As soon as we got back to the hotel, though, we crashed...and it was only 8:30. Good night!

Peru: Don't forget the time change! (April 22, 2007)

Sunday morning I woke up to darkness and the sound of rain trickling outside. It was so dark outside and my alarm clock said that we had at least two more hours. Good! I was too tired. So, the alarm went off at 6:00 and we got up. We had a lot to accomplish that morning before church at 8:00 a.m. After the shower fiasco (see the previous post), we got ready in the bedroom and it was pitch black outside. I asked Alison how much time I had and, glancing at my alarm clock, she told me it was 6:37. So, I had a little more than 20 minutes to pack up and get myself ready for an entire day of church and excursion. I grabbed my alarm clock and it slipped out of my hands. I asked Alison to check her watch and tell me the exact time to reset the clock. She said, "Quarter to six." Huh?! I had forgotten to change my alarm clock from Chile time to Peru time, so we had gotten up a WHOLE hour early!! Good grief! We had a good laugh about it, but I really could have used that extra hour of sleep.

In Cusco, you can barely go more than four steps in the Plaza de Armas without someone offering to sell you something...shoe shine, cheap reproduction paintings, dolls, their llama....It gets a little old.

First thing we needed to do that morning, at 7:30 and before 8:00 a.m. church, was go to the train station to buy our tickets to go to Aguas Calientes, otherwise known as Machu Picchu pueblo. We left Alison's debit card in my suitcase and decided that I would pay for the train tickets on my credit card. However, we learned that they don't take credit cards at the train station! Are you KIDDING me? I attempted to take money out of the ATM machine there, but it wouldn't recognize my card. 8:00 a.m. church was looking less and less likely.

We walked back up Avenida del Sol--the main drag--where the banks were. I finally found one, after numerous attempts, that would accept my debit card. Annoyed, we took a taxi back to the train station and had definitely missed the beginning of 8:00 a.m. church. Bummer. We bought our train tickets (which were rather expensive...they really suck everything they can out of the tourists) and the girl who sold us the tickets refused to give us change and NO ONE takes big bills! I was SO annoyed.

So, we decided to go to church at 10:00. In the mean time, we got our breakfast at a small family-run store. Alison asked the woman how she could identify fake money because it is a rampant problem in Peru and got a 15 minute lesson on how to recognize the falso. Meanwhile, not listening, I was trying to decide if the cheese they had in the "refrigerator case" ("refrigerator case" that was probably unplugged) was still edible. The bread wasn't as good as Chilean bread and the cheese tasted like dirty feet, but my mango juice was good...and I was carrying my trusty 2.5 liters of bottled water to drown my cold. So that helped.

We went to take some photos near the statue of Pachacutec, the Inka king and founder of Machu Picchu and the Sun god fountain on Avenida del Sol as we killed time waiting until we needed to go to church.

Typical to South America, the street signs are screwy. One side of the street has numbers completely unrelated to the ones on the opposite side. Despite the confusion, we were able to find the building where church was to start at 10 a.m. Strange, though, were the black tarps covering the inside of the gates and the newspaper covering the windows of the front doors. Hmmm....We waited, doubtfully, until 10:05 a.m. and not a soul had shown up to open the gates. Although, one man passing by did ask me to send someone from the church to see him. When I told him I wasn't a missionary, he apologized, shook my hand and walked away. You could still smell the alcohol a good 20 seconds after he left. We were both very bummed about missing church that day. We went back to our hotel, changed our clothes, had a little prayer and spiritual thought and headed out.

We were both pretty stressed out the day before because of unfamiliarity with the city and the fact that we hadn't really seen anything yet. The prices surprised us and the fact that we didn't know what to see stressed us out, too.

We took a taxi to the bus station and paid to go to Pisac to see some of the ruins. On the road to Pisac, it dawned on us that we didn't have enough time to go all the way to Pisac and really explore it and all the ruins outside Cusco. What do we do?? Should we squeeze past every person in the insanely crowded bus to get off in Tambomachay, the last ruins right before the long ride to Pisac, or just not make a big deal about it, save ourselves from having to displace half the bus as we crawl out, and go to Pisac? Next thing I know, Alison yells out (and loud, mind you) "BAJAMOS AQUI!" (We're getting off here!). It was hilarious to see this tall gringa yell that in the midst of a COMPLETELY packed Peruvian bus. We piled off the bus, permiso-ing as we squeezed past people. I nearly died laughing.

The ruins at Tambomachay have fountains/bathing places. We hiked around a bit with some other confused tourists who, like us, didn't know what there was to see. We hiked up a small hill and asked some local kids whose parents were planting on the hill if there was anything else to see. Not really. We shared our info with Michael, a nice German man who was with a group of three other friends. I talked to him a little about his travels. He's been to southeast Asia a lot. I love how well-traveled Europeans are. We walked to the next ruins, Puca Pucara, with the Germans and were quickly accosted by Javier.

Javier said he was a student at the university and wanted to help us understand the ruins better...so that they ended up being more than just rocks to us. He said he'd give us two minutes free and then we could tip him what "was born from [our] hearts." We listened, with the Germans, and tried to translate Javier's English into English the Germans could understand. After a couple minutes, we thanked Javier and decided to explore on our own. Javier kept bugging us and we kept telling him no. I hate being solicited. It makes me feel like I need to be on the defensive.

We sat on the grassy ruins, eating chocolate and drinking water, while gazing at the gorgeous, green Andes mountains (named for a tribe in the jungle, I learned from my guidebook that day). It was really beautiful.

We walked down the road, thinking we'd shortly come across more ruins. Not so! They were much farther apart than we realized. So, we walked and walked along the road. We were in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing around us...definitely NO bathrooms. So, Alison and I hunted for an ideal potty spot. I'll spare you all any more details. However, I found it pretty liberating to feel as though I wasn't controlled by whether or not there was a bathroom available. It truly is a man's world. I bet men rarely bring their own hand sanitizer, though. We definitely had that covered!

As we walked, we'd ask for directions of whomever we encountered how to get to Salumpunca, more ruins. With so much walking, we were grateful that the weather was nice. It was sunny and warm, however, it did threaten with saturated, dark grey clouds later in the afternoon. We ran into some cops on our way who tried to flirt with us a bit. It's nice to claim a boyfriend in those situations...makes it easy to get out of the awkwardness.

At Salumpunca, we saw the Temple of the Moon. Not much to say (and I don't even have a photo to show it!). We thought we weren't too far from Sacsayhuaman, the next set of ruins. We continued to walk and walk. It was pretty exhausting. We did try to stop at a small restaurant that said it served traditional Peruvian food (including cuy, guinea pig). We walked in and saw about six Peruvian men sitting in a semi-circle. Twelve eyes stared at us as if to say, "What are you two doing here?" but more in a curious way than a hostile way. We asked if they had cuy...but no, only trout. Nah.