Armando and Planes
Author’s note: Armando and Planes is the second chapter of my book ‘From dementia to adventure, which explains my reasons for travelling to Peru in 2001. Here is the first chapter, Dementing in London. You can take a look at the full index of chapters or dive straight into the jungle chapter called By boat to Iquitos.
He takes his seat with a flurry of Spanish abuse at the air stewardess following an incident with his camcorder, which he is clutching like a newborn. After much sweating and the throwing of aeroplane cushions he settles and festers and is obviously not happy. My first Peruvian encounter. I ask for a Spanish newspaper when the air stewardess eventually plucks up the courage to come past us. This surprises Armando. I learnt a little Spanish at night classes in the run-up to my dream trip to Peru but my Spanish is far from fluent.
“Hola, hablas Espanol?” ( hi, do you speak Spanish?) he asks, still not looking happy.
“Un pocito,” (a little), I am trying to learn I tell him and we proceed to spend the rest of our conversation in English interspersed with the odd Spanish word and phrase. I feel good, knowing some lingo. At least I am making the effort and Armando appears to appreciate it.
“You have to try Ceviche with Pisco Sour,” he advises me with a twinkle in his eye and a wag of his finger but the thought of raw fish with alcohol has my stomach-turning. It’s a chance encounter that brings Armando and me together but feels like something more than that. I first read The Celestine Prophecy on my Australian adventure after being given it by a much-loved friend. It is a story based in Peru so had I re-read it in the preparations for my journey. The Celestine Prophecy places importance on things normally taken for granted, namely coincidences and chance encounters. I hope that Armando’s presence bodes well for my single-handed tour of Peru.
On the New York-bound flight, I found myself being the English ham between two bagels as I got chatting to two New Yorkers. They had either had enough of each other on their European holiday or had some other good reason for not sitting next to each other. My guardian angels were watching over me that day as they kindly accompanied me into the centre of New York and ensured I safely reached my hostel. I am now sitting next to Armando who too has been holidaying in London and is now my personal guide, dispensing invaluable advice to the wonderful country that is his homeland. In a Celestine way perhaps Armando is sitting next to me because I need to learn something from him.
“Be very careful in Lima…it is very dangerous for you in Lima!” Now I don’t normally worry but the look on Armando’s face has turned from friendly joy to deadly serious and I am scared. I repeat under my breath my journeying mantra: I will have a good trip, I will have a safe trip and I will have an enlightening trip.
The conversation with Armando lasts virtually all flight. Like a child after a late night at a relative’s house awaking after a nap in the car, I find that night has fallen and stars hang like a ministry of angels from some distant universe. The last time I had seen such a sky at night I was sitting at a picnic table in Australia eating cheese and vegemite triangle sandwiches and sipping piping coffee served from a flask. Jeannie and Tim, my friendly strangers, had picked me up at the airport and were taking me back to their Rochester home three hours north of Melbourne. The picnic area was unsurprisingly deserted at 1 am and the air was crisp and peaceful. I remember how vividly vegemite signified to me being in Oz. I had that tune in my head by Men down Under and smiled to myself as I gazed up in awe at the night sky.
I am not sure if the sky in the Southern Hemisphere is bigger than that in the Northern hemisphere, perhaps a cosmologist or an astronomer could tell me. It just looks, well, bigger. The global sky may take the form of a giant weeble shape (like those inflatable toys in the early 80’s that you couldn’t knock over and always righted themselves). There must be more sky in the South. Then again it probably is my sense of insignificance that comes with arriving in such a vast land that is South America. My wanderings are brought to a halt when the plane banks and brings Lima into full view beneath the clinging low cloud. Night lights sprawl for miles like some giant spider’s web. I remember the advice in my handbook …avoid arriving in Lima at night!
Join me as I navigate the jungle with the locals in the chapter called By boat to Iquitos. Or click one of the links below for another story.
More writing from Neil
Read three of my most viewed stories on Medium
Subscribe to receive my next article by email and become a Medium member by clicking the links below:
https://neilmapes.medium.com/subscribe
https://neilmapes.medium.com/membership
Copyright © 2021 Neil Mapes. All Rights Reserved.