start of an affair with the mar

Today I woke up after a somewhat intense night. I had planned to meet a friend from France who is married to a Peruvian in the park from 6-7ish, but we ended up talking until about 8 on a bench near a mobile chicheria parked in the middle of Kennedy park. It was lovely. She invited me to run a 7.3 k race on the 12th. I think I may go for it. I walked her to her bus, and then set out to walk back through the park to the hostal to write and read. A group of people were congregated in a circle at the head of the park. Of course, I approached. All ages, and genders, seemed to be gathered. They were looking at a mobile cardboard display with the title, "Kiosk of Memory" (Kiosko de la Memoria). Displayed were the front pages of various newspapers from when Fujimori was president and suspended congress, among other things. His daughter, Keiko, is one of two major candidates for the presidency in Peru. The election is Sunday, and debates are heated. Various people spoke, about Keiko as a daughter of the mafia (Fujimori and Montesinos, found to be--shock--corrupt), as a bad daughter to her mother and thus bad for women, etc.Policemen came to make sure this wasn't a rowdy protest.  After the speakers were done speaking with people in the crowd about economic models, the media, etc, and had moved on to march to different areas (about 20 college students), a group stayed behind speaking to one another about what they had heard. I ended up in a circle of 8, and was one of two women. The other was a 50 year old market woman who sold without a permit in the park to tourists. She cannot currently afford a permit, and spoke about that. What am I supposed to do, then? Rob? apparently the police have taken her wares a few times. She said, okay, fine take my things, but what about the mami's de las provincias (rural provinces) that sell bread? Why take their bread? What are they going to do? It's a sin.

They debated. Words flew between a very white, well-off, student from La Catolica (MA Economics), an older carpenter who can't find work who migrated to the city from the Andes, this market woman, and students. It was polite. It was open. Everyone listened to everyone. Everyone waited their turn. Conversation topics were impressively broad. The Chileans bought the port in Callao. They are going to raise taxes there so they can force companies to use Chilean ports. That's because Chile has a problem with natural resources. They are hedging. Did you know they also bought this supermarket chain? That's why I'm out of a job, selling on the street. In Europe and the USA there is welfare, too? and they protect their markets?and then don't let us? Keiko will sell us entirely out to other countries. We will own nothing. We who own this land, our heart is here, we will own nothing of it. Chileans have already bought so much of the rainforest. So much of our land is owned by others to grow food for export. Foreigners get the best of our food. People hardly know that. And they forget Fujimori, or aren't old enough to remember.  NO to neoliberailsm, said the marketwoman. Ollanta should win. He will win. Nobody knew each other. They were strangers. I did not interrupt at all save to dismiss myself and ask about the rally that marks the closing of the campaign today. The conversation was a seemingly equal plane, no need to interrupt and introduce questions. ruin that moment. I will be at that rally.

Even when the young economist mentioned the Pishtaco (a tall white monster who kills people and sucks out their fat in the Andes) as a political invention to control the poor Andean populations, and the two Andean participants protested-- saying, yes the media highlights the Pishtaco to draw attention to something other than politics during elections and continues to, but you are wrong. it exists. we have seen it.  Now, sometimes it kills for money, takes the fat of those it kills to grease machines in the USA. The economist replied, oh, okay-- sorry. clearly not believing them but respecting their stories. Their beliefs. I was blown away.

I walked back to the hostal, where travelers were complaining about the ley seco-- it's not permitted to sell alchohol during election weekends to decrease violence and encourage "smart voting." Don't worry, we will have beer at the hostal anyways. Well, that's a relief.

I thought of this as I got my running shoes on. Determined to start my day with a few miles of the malecon (where are the damn accents on PC's? help!). I left the hostal and helped a lost traveler find the park, then I turned right and walked towards lover's park. A woman, about 60, stopped me and asked, "are you going to walk?" Yep!. Me too! Let's go.

Okay.
I'm going to the clinic, you?
I'm going to run by the sea.
That's the best thing. I wish I can run, I can't. My feet. They hurt. I am old. I can't even vote this weekend, so I will haveto pay a fine. did you know voting is obligatory?
Yes, they make you pay a fine? and you are disabled somehow?
Yes. It's crazy. It's wrong.
How interesting. I am sorry to hear that.
Will you walk me to the clinic? it is on the way to the sea?
Sure.

We chat. She lives in San Isidrio. A very nice neighborhood. She realizes I am interested in migration. Starts to tell me all about Peru and migration. Peruvians are everywhere. Oh, you're more interested in migration within Peru? Well people from the highlands come to the city often and they need to stop.

Why?
Well, it's not good for them here. It's polluted.
You live here. Why, then?
Well, I can get a good job. I speak Spanish. I went to university. The contamination is worth it for that. It's not for them. They sacrifice it all. Living in filth, in crime, without anything...leaving their fields and families...just so their children will be able to be Limenos (damn accent keys? Where are they?!). It's wrong.
I think it's brave.
It is brave, yes, it is.

We arrive at the Adventist clinic. She was born there. Has been going ever since. She gives me her information. I'm going to have dinner with her some night. She's lovely.

I start to run, then, after I tuck her note into my socks. I reach lover's park. Two huge, brown figures entwined. Clearly in love. in lust, all of it. Some tourists are around. There are runners, too. I run to the right, along the water. Cliffs straight down. It's beautiful.

about 2k into the run I see two men in one of the nicer parks with about 25 dogs.
French Bulldogs
Pekinese
Poodles
mostly pure bread.

I walk into this park, obviously, and talk to them. They live in Rimac (a less affulent neighborhood) and pick up these dogs daily to socialize them. They are often so cooped up, it's unfair. Yes, yes I say. And, even then...their owners don't love them the right way. They are people, kind of, too. Here that's not really known.

I have a corgi, do you watch those at all?
Not yet.
If you do, find me. I will want to play with it.
They laugh.

I pick up the poodle. an 11 year old, and snuggle it. hoping those little cuddles make it back to my bartleby somehow. I could totally bring him here one day. I will, maybe.

I try to leave, but the Pekinese is by the gate. I'm afraid he will get out.
"He's deaf! watch!"
The man signs to the amazingly buck-toothed pekinese. he runs right over.

I love all of this.
I love the sea.
I love how chilly it is.

I ran back to shower and head to breakfast to write notes after another few km.
Everyone was still asleep.

I got dressed. grabbed my stuff. bought a paper.  The leftist paper. La Republica. Clearly not for Keiko.

front page: THOUSANDS OF WOMEN WERE STERILIZED AGAINST THEIR WILL UNDER FUJMORI. STERILIZATIONS WERE A CRIME!

Keiko is not only a bad daughter, but she was there...and seemingly okay with these sterilizations. Pictured: women who look like they are from the highlands. Funny how people care now in this way. Ammo against Keiko.  Academics and activists have known this and written about it extensively already. EXPOSE TOMORROW WITH THE PAPER! News.

I am meeting a friend (an art historian who is visiting) from Gainesville in the park, but headed to that rally tonight. Maybe she'll come-- who knows!

Love all of you.
They are now playing Belle and Sebastian in this cafe.
Can't wait to be in the apartment rather than the hostel.
not editing for typos and misspellings, because...already have too much of that to do with field notes! need to get used to this tiny computer.