Day1

Within minutes of settling into the microcosm of Atlanta's International gate E-01, Barbara, John and I acknowledged that we had entered minority status. Yep, three English speaking, light skinned, light haired gringos stood out in the crowd of Spanish speaking, darker skinned, dark haired South Americans. We settled in our chairs to wait for our plane and ponder the challenges we would face from our lack of Spanish speaking skills.

The six hour flight to Lima was uneventful. Unfortunately we flew in darkness, unable to see the changing landscape below. We didn't however miss the thousands of bright lights that appeared as we descended toward Jorge Chavez International Airport. As city of almost 8-million residents, Lima sprawls across a wide swath of land and the city lights, as seen from the air, are quite spectacular.

Our flight was the only one being processed in immigrations at the time we passed through. Airport security divided us by residents and non residents and we stood in separate lines to show our passports, retrieve our luggage and pass through customs. John, Barbara and I held our breath as we reached the front of the last line and Barbara pushed the large button that would determine our fate...luggage inspection or the main terminal. GREEN! We were headed to the main terminal.

We anticipated a large, modern airport but were surprised to find a somewhat shabby airport under major renovation. Big sheets of black plastic hung from the ceiling, placed there to protect doorways and walkways. The building's inner workings, usually hidden by ceiling tiles, were exposed and the air conditioner, if there was one, did not work.

As we moved from the gate area into the main terminal, we were startled to see a pulsating mob of people waiting for deplaning passengers. We estimated several hundred people stood behind metal barricades that divided the main terminal with the waiting area. Scanning the crowd for a man holding a sign with our names, we stepped out of the stream of people when we spotted him. He handed over our internal plane tickets and took our $84.00 US still owed to our travel agency for a July 11th Lima tour. At this particular moment, we realized that we did not adequately grasp the tipping customs in Peru, a problem that would plague us throughout the trip. Tired and dazed, we were unable to mentally work through what we thought was correct and later we couldn't shake our discomfort with our decision.

Ready to unload our backpacks for the night, it took only a few minutes to find someone who spoke enough English to direct us to "Left Luggage," the hourly luggage check located just outside the main entrance to the terminal. Next we headed upstairs to the 24 hour cafe to pass the next 4.5-hours, a virtual eternity for three people who had been up for 18 hours and faced spending the next few hours trying to stay awake.

Lots of people in the airport were in our predicament, waiting for the long night to end and the ticket counters to open for early flight check-ins. We saw people on the floor in sleeping bags, uncomfortably curled up in chairs and in the cafe either trying to nap in the limited number of recliners (all were full when we arrived) or trying to stay awake by drinking coffee. We were part of the coffee group.

A fellow traveler from Texas joined us at our table about 1:00 am. She was on her way to join a photo tour in Cusco; she talked non stop about herself and her many doctor friends. Barbara listened patiently while John and I became restless and took a walk. We found a 24 hour Dunkin' Donuts, a mini market and a 24 hour internet cafe. I stopped in the cafe to dash off an email to our families while John continued to explore the airport. This was truly a long night for us. Whether we would have been better off in a hotel for the 4.5-5 hours between flights, we do not know.

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