My last day
It's a shame that I have to go home tomorrow - I'm feeling real comfortable with just being a guy who lives in Lima. On the other hand, it looks like I could be on a train heading straight for trouble: I have started dating civilians. Maybe it's good thing I'm leaving. I managed not to call Angie and besides, Lima's not going anywhere. I can come back whenever I want.
The day was supposed to be simple: Morning drink, lunch with Georgina, Watch the Hurricanes whomp Virginia at 3:30, do some final shopping, pack, get laid and gamble. Easy.
I don't get going until about 11, but I finally get showered and out of the apartment. Starbucks is located at Ovaldo Guitterez, along with a movie theater, a Chili's, a TGI Fridays and Supermercado Wong. I go to the supermarket to stock up for lunch, picking up a rotisserie chicken, some beef and vegetables, some rice, chocolates for dessert and some drinks. Wong has just started selling gift cards (they call them shopping cards), so I spent 50 Soles ($14.93) and got one of those, too. I also bought some Inca Kola to take home with me, so I head back to the apartment to drop off the sodas and heat up the food.
Georgina works close enough to walk, but I had hot food, so I grabbed a taxi and showed up at her tienda right at 1:00 pm.
She's happy to see me. She was all dressed up and had gotten her hair done. She looked good and I told her so. We spread out lunch all over the counter in her shop and went to town on lunch. Everything was good. We talked for a long while. She grilled me a bit about my personal life, religious beliefs, etc. I didn't do great, but I guess I did good enough, because she turned around and told me that she had a gift for me, and trotted out ceramic figures of an olden Peruvian couple.
These were really nice, and I didn't recall seeing anything similar in any of the tourist shops I had been to, so I believe that she brought this from home for me, rather than just grabbing something in the store. Also, there was some sort of story about their history that I didn't quite follow.
It was almost time to leave, and it was going well, so at this point I made a crucial error. I told her that I was really glad that we met, and that I was sorry that we wouldn't get to see each other until I came back in a few months. Also, I said, the Holidays were coming, and I wanted her to have this 'shopping card' so that she and her family could have dinner at home one night and she could think of me.
The girl immediately shut down, refusing the card and giving me a lecture that she was my friend because she liked me, and not because I had money and might be willing to give her a gift. I guess that there's a stigma in some circles about single women and American guys. She was doing whatever she could to prove both to herself and to me that this wasn't the case here.
After apologizing profusely (yes, I found myself so temporarily whipped that I had to apologize for offering this girl a gift), we got past it, and it was time to leave. We exchanged addresses and phone numbers, and then I leaned over, and kissed her goodbye. Kissed her good. Kissed her good and long. There was nothing more to do after that, so I told her that I would call when I got home to Florida and left.
I decided that I really wanted the bag for my computer, so I picked it up, after failing to get the salesman below 150 Soles ($44.78)
Just a quick stop at the apartment to drop off my gift and the bag. I also gave the shopping card to the woman who worked the door at my apartment building (apparently, she had no problem taking gifts from Americans), and I was back in the waiting cab and at the Corner Sports Bar five minutes before kickoff.
The FSU-UF game was being played at the same time as the Hurricanes' game. There were only a couple of 'Canes fans at the bar, but, sadly, the Gator lovers piled on in. They all sat in a corner together, so it wasn't that bad. I grabbed a seat and watched the game with some guy from Colorado who was just dying to find someone to talk to in English.
Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when one of the most beautiful girls ever walked into the bar and sat at the next table, ordered a drink, and then took out a cigarette and sat there, waiting for someone to offer to light it.
The guy was faster than me, and the two of them were then in deep conversation. When she went to the bathroom, he filled me in. Her story was that she was a massage therapist, and she would be happy to go with him to his hotel to, er, loosen his muscles. And if she wasn't enough, she said that she had a friend who could come over and help, if he wanted.
For some insane reason, he turned her down, and when he left the bar, she left a few minutes later. I guess that I didn't pose all that attractive prospect to her, what with me staring and drooling and all.
I have been in the Corner Bar over a dozen times, and this is the first time I have seen a working girl there. I'm surprised that management allowed it, but she was buying drinks, so maybe they figured what the hell.
So the Hurricanes take care of their business, and as I'm crossing the street to the casino, my cell rings. It's my waitress friend from last night, just checking on me (it was her day off). She was all tired from spending the day with her son, but she wanted to tell me to have a safe trip home, and that I should email her so that we can see each other when I get back.
I play blackjack for about an hour, then I go back to the apartment to shave, shower, pack, and figure out where I am going to find my last girl of the trip. I accomplish the first three, and put off worrying about girl chasing for a while. There are plenty, and it was the weekend. I shouldn't have any problems.
Back at Casino Miraflores, I am playing and chatting up the dealer who is unhappy with her married status. Her exact quote: "If someone asks me today if I am married, I would tell them no." If I was going to be there longer, this would have been a clear signal to proceed, but she was working until almost when I had to go to the airport, and I was already dating two civilians in Lima. If she's there next trip, I will continue the hunt.
My cell phone rings again. It's the waitress. Her son is asleep, she isn't, and do I want to meet up? Sure, I say, meet me at the casino. Around 10:30, there she is, cute as a button. She really doesn't like to gamble (or to watch me, it turns out), so we leave and go to LacoMar mall again.
It's earlier this time, so everything is still open. We walk around the mall and window shop for a while, before we sit in one of the places overlooking the ocean for a bite. I may not have mentioned it, but this mall is on the side of the mountain, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. In the day, it's a marvelous view. At night, not much to look at. Here's a picture I took back during my May trip:
After dinner, we taxied to her house, where the kiss at her building's door was friendlier than last night's. She stopped me after a bit, telling me, "next time." Just like a real date with a real girl. The trip to her house and then back to Kennedy Park was 15 Soles, so the guy did indeed rip me off last night.
The pickings were surprisingly slim, considering that it was around 1 am on Saturday night, so I bit the bullet and headed to Tequila Rock.
Tequila Rock
Diez Canseco #146
Miraflores - 427-7128
12° 07.335' S, 77° 01.771 W
Tequila Rock is a great place (think the Blue Marlin in san Jose, only smaller, and no gambling, but with music and a dance floor). A bunch of very attractive girls mill about in a very favorable chica to hombre ratio. Yes, every one of them is a hooker, and they're there to have a good time and to make money, not necessarily in that order. The 'list' price for the girls is a uniform $100, but short time can be negotiated down to $60, and I have never paid more than $100 for todo la noche (all night).
The only down side to the club is that it is where I met Angie. Angie's cousin (and for all I knew, Angie) still worked there, so I was taking a chance. My plane left in nine hours, so I figured that this was a chance I could get away with.
I used a coupon that I got out of a tourist magazine to avoid the 20 Sol cover charge. The security girl took my camera away from me and gave me a receipt, presumably to keep me from taking pictures of the girls. You can imagine my surprise when I got the camera back, and there was a picture of some girl showing up at the club. I guess the staff can take pictures of hookers, but the customers can't. Here's the photo that was on the camera:
Photo: Random Hooker 20
The admission coupon also gave me a free drink, so I got my water and scanned the club. The coast was clear. I didn't want to take any chances, so I took a seat at a table on the far left of the entrance, where I could watch the girls show up for work. Angie would have to make a right to drop off her coat, so I had an escape route planned.
I'm sitting there taking in the sights and enjoying the music. I wind up talking to Paola. Paola is 27 years old with long black hair, a beautiful smile, and a prestigious rack. We try to talk over the music, and make do pretty well.
All of a sudden, I felt daggers. At the bar was Angie's cousin, looking at me like I was a dead man walking. She was talking to one of her friends and pointing at me. I felt like a marked man.
I tell Paola that she seems really nice, but it's getting kind of late for me, so if she wants to leave with me, we would have to go now. I wasn't in the most favorable bargaining position, so we settled on $70, with the agreement that I could take some (clothed) pictures. Paola went to get her coat and do whatever it is these girls do before they leave.
And in the nick of time. The friend of the cousin walks up to me and starts saying in rapid Spanish, "blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Angie, blah blah blah blah Angie, blah blah." I make like I can't hear her because of the music, so she says again, "blah blah blah blah blah blah Angie. Angie blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Angie."
Paola is heading back towards me, so I get up and say to the girl, "I don't know what you're talking about, I can't understand Spanish." I walk away past the cousin, grab Paola's arm, and we go upstairs and leave.
MONEY SAVING TIP: The taxi drivers that sit outside Tequila Rock (and Pizza Alley, for that matter), prey on unsuspecting tourists. They all tried to charge 10 Soles to my apartment. Just walk two steps away and flag a taxi - there's a million of them and the girls respect you for not getting ripped off. The fare to the apartment is 4 Soles at 2 in the morning and only 3 during the day.
We get to the apartment and she lets me shoot some photos.
Photos: Paola 21 22 23
It's a shame that she wouldn't agree to any nude photos. She's a natural model, and she has a smoking body. But no was no, so I put the camera down.
In bed, she was wonderful. She was clean, warm, kissable, accommodating and just about any other positive adjective you can think of. Did I mention that she had a great rack, too? We probably spent 45 minutes together in the bedroom. When she left ($70 plus a 20 Sol tip), she said that she was going back to Tequila. I tried to talk her out of going back, as I knew that she would be grilled by Angie's cousin, but I really couldn't control that.
Gentlemen, if you're ever in Tequila Rock and have a chance to spend some time with Paola, do it. It wasn't a wild ride, per se, but a real good time. Keeping her all night and waking up with her in the morning would have been a pleasure.
It was about 3 in the morning; too late to go to sleep because I had to leave for the airport at 7. So I turned on the TV, set the alarm, just in case, and sat down to review the day and the trip.
At the end of yesterday's report, I teased today as 'action-packed'. Was it? Well, if you describe action-packed as wild group sex with half a dozen hotties where I busted six or eight nuts, no.
However, for me, any day where I make out with two civilians, watch the 'Canes win a football game, avoid a possible ass kicking from my ex-girlfriend's cousin, and wind it up with a great hour in bed with a beautiful, warm, stacked girl is action-packed enough.