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I went on a semi-cheesy tour bus to the ruins that neighbor Cusco. Qenko, Pucapucara, Tambo Machay, Sacsayhuaman (which sounds very much like "sexy woman," and seems to be the running joke in these parts). At Tambo Machay, where the Inca kings sat in their thrones, there is a special stream whose source is yet undiscovered. This is the stream of eternal youth and to drink from it and splash it onto your face is to live longer. The dilemma is, you are not supposed to drink the water in Peru, and dammed if I haven't been brushing my teeth with bottled water and shutting my eyes and mouth when I take a shower. But eternal youth? Ponce De Leon risked his life for such a find. I can certainly risk a little gas and diarrhea. So drink I did. I am now 27 years old. The tour took us to the Spanish cathedral in La Plaza. I mean, this shit was built centuries ago, some as old as 800 years. Macchu Picchu, the most spectacular of the ruins which is either a four day hike down the Inca trail, a two day hike, or a one day train trip, still lies ahead; as well as a trek into the Manu rain forest, and La Paz, Copacabana, and Lake Titicaca of Bolivia. Until then, basking in La Plaza, dancing in discotecas, visiting museums, meeting people from all over the world, and drinking Mate' de Coca ( a coca-leaf tea that is very good for altitude conflicts, and a tonic for most other things, and is dangerously close in construction to that forwhich Peru is well known - cocaine). I adore Peruana women with their thick lashes, large noses and solid frames. It ain't no Cosmo, but I'll take these natural beauties over airbrushed plasti-woman any day. It seems as though Cusquenians have less hang-ups about their sexuality. There is a pheromone vibe here that has me at a disadvantage since I am still logged onto my westerner sensibilities; not to mention that I have a hard enough time saying "hello" in their gorgeous native tongues, much less, "May I buy you a drink you Peruana princess, you." I did manage a semi-date with a classic Peruana beauty named Antoinette, a waitress/student (I always go for the waitresses) who took me to Discoteca Ukukus last night. The place was feverish. She brought another waitress friend named Marta and I brought Andrew. Well the four of us hit the dance floor. I felt like I was 18 again; dancing to all those silly tunes and throwing my hands up in the air like I just didn't care. I tell you, it is not something I would do back home. My self-actualization has not evolved enough to let you see the way I was behaving. But here, on another continent, well . . . Andrew has a girlfriend, so naturally Marta was all over him. It was amazing, at dinner, when she served us, she was coy. In Ukukus, she was a disco tramp, grabbing his ass and pulling him close. When he wanted to leave, she begged him to take her home. He declined. Naturally, because I'd love a Peruana romance, Antoinette was chilly. Though this may be related to the fact that I can't speak Spanish (our conversations were limited to "Uno mas Pina Colada" and "bueno musica, eh?") I am more inclined to believe that my attentiveness was seen as a weakness. Nonetheless, her beauty was astounding. She had dark lips, jungle eyebrows, long black hair, and a padded, though firm, derriere. In Antoinette, I saw the womb of Macchu Picchu, the Inca temple of the sun, and the teeth of the Puma. All I have to offer is french fry wisdom and a Budweiser mentality.
PERU GIRL -
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