Gloves, loves and Amanda Lepore.

Trying to speak a new language is like trying on a glove you find in the gutter. The reluctance, the disgust, the potential comfort of a gooey new dialect all seem to be possibilities. Secretly you want to try it but you´re afraid you´ll contract something embarassing or maybe slip your hand inside only to find it fits, it´s warm, and you like it.

I´m practicing Spanish everyday. The lovely Piña is helping me a lot, when we´re not making out. It´s just frustrating because I know I sound like an idiot. It would be nice to be oblivious, but unfortunately it´s not my style. I´ve grown accustomed to sounding eloquent and anything less is compromise.

Aside from sounding intelligent, I miss my friends, red licorice, and Tim Horton´s coffee, whose marketing engine would be pleased to find is consistently nostalgiac among the few Canadians I meet. Not because it´s particularly good, only because it´s one of the few symbols we have left to cling to.

Machu Picchu has been moved to the middle of next week. Instead, here´s something completely different.

Trippity Serendipity.

It´s funny how blondes stick together.

I´ve been making a serious effort to avoid the cynical expats living down here (they fan themselves in their linen and complain about a lack of balsamic vinegar,) but it seems unavoidable to strike up conversations with other gringos. Right now I can have noun conversations with my Chileans. ¨Glass?¨ ¨Yes, glass.¨ ¨Table?¨ ...and so on. It gets a little old. Anyway, it´s refreshing to be found somewhat interesting, and not just a linguistic charity case. But I digress.

Buying a cactus in Providencia, I was caught on some hidden camera show. Sensing a ruse, I toyed with this faux police officer who demanded my passport and to search my bag. Taking an exaggerated whiff of my backpack, he quizzically asked ¨Drugs?¨ to which I responded ¨I´ve got plenty, just take what you want.¨ Fortunately the sweet gremlin of a Señora who sold me the cactus interceded on my behalf and whacked him over the head with a palm leaf.

Who am I?

Anyway, some lovely blonde girls had seen this bizarre scene from afar, and offered to translate the release form I had to sign afterward. They invited me to a vegan barbeque. What, pray tell, does one eat at a VEGAN barbeque? Anyway. The recommended an organic restaurant near my apartment that has the sexiest serving staff I´ve ever seen. I´ve decided to become a regular.

Eating brunch there this morning some adorable German girls invited me to go to Machu Picchu. I leave on Thursday.



Jordan.