Kolleggerium

is the one you have with you. The best subject is whatever is in front of you.

The train to Machu Pichu is washed out, which is such a relief. Free of the junky-like need for extraordinary sights, mine is the voyeurism of every crumbling wall, shuffling foot, honking horn, stumbling translation, smiling face, and pile of meat chewed down while enjoying a medley blending The Ramones, B-52s, a-ha, Cheap Trick and Bryan Adams, and oh wait, yes… Scorpions.

Mabel tells me that mostly Peruvians like to talk and eat. To that I’d add that they’re an affectionate bunch. It’s a highschool dance of making out. Winding taxi rides have exposed poverty that would motivate robbing a silly gringo, but the streets I’ve walked have been city streets like any other and I’ve yet to feel uneasy.