I Love Lonely Planet

I am running. I should really look where I am going but I can`t keep my eyes off the winding shoreline below the cliffs of Lima. I think to myself, ¨I am jogging behind my lovely new friend from Scotland named Anne and I am in Lima, Peru and I came here by myself and I can´t believe I actually did this.¨ As I run I pass a greyhound with a leopard-print coat (an addition to the coat he was born with) and many many people walking tiny dogs and large dogs, except there are no leashes. I am frightened that these dogs might chase after me but they barely deign to notice as I rush by. I pass couples leaning against the winding wall overlooking the cliffs of Lima and couples sitting in the grass in the quaint little parks strewn throughout my route in Barranco, a bohemian-esque neighbourhood with high rises and the beach. I miss Kevin. But then again, I am running in a beautiful country that is not my own and I am seeing things that I know I am fortunate to be experiencing and I have not run in weeks and I feel like my body is buzzing with energy. I am definitely going to want to go out for drinks after this with my new friends. There is Anne and Maureen from Scotland and Emar from England and little do we know we are going to meet a fellow New Yorker named Dave who arrives around 11 pm and reminds me of friends back home. I love my hostal. I was apprehensive at first. My room stank of cat urine and smelly boys and so I switched only to find --laying in my bed hours later with earplugs to block out the incessant thumping of the attached bar-- this new rooms stinks as well. Oh well. I barely notice now.
Traveling alone is terrifying. I don´t care what anyone says. It´s exhilarating and you will undoubtedly make friends, but the first 30 minutes begin with panic. What if you don´t meet anyone you like? What if noone you meet likes you (in my mind a far worse scenario)? But 20 minutes after I have checked into the hostal I am sitting on a tattered couch pretending to watch a t.v. that is completely drowned out by the adjacent blasting techno music at the bar. There are people my age everywhere. I meet a couple from Australia and make nice with an Israeli boy sitting beside me named Sam. There are four Canadians staying in my room and one English girl I fall in love with who then leaves 24 hours later named Clare. She is traveling the world for a whole year alone and her one backpack is way smaller than mine. She lends me one of her two newly washed towels. HOw could I not bring towels?!! Stupid stupid stupid! My roommates come home at 3 a.m. my first night and shine flashlights in my face while I jokingly tell them I need my rest. I am recovering from a parasite, but I could not care less. This is fun. This morning in the common area my new friends from last night and I happen to awaken at the same time and Dave jokes that being in this hostal is like summer camp. I´ve never been, but now think I may have liked it. Lima is fun. Traveling is exhilarating. Emar and I have just (literally 30 seconds ago) decided that we are going to book a bus to Pisco today for tomorrow. Pisco is where the devastating earthquake hit last year, maybe we can find somewhere to volunteer. We can take day trips to a place to sand board and a day trip to a place that is a Galapagos Island knock-off (fine by me). Then on to Ayacucho. I am so glad I have come back.