At check-out, we stored our bags and went shopping for a last minute souvenirs. On our way down the hill from the fair trade store, where some of us hit the souvenir payload, we passed by a festival of children (or as some would think, a market where children were for sale)...
The kids were dancing and had no clue as to the steps. They all had that blank stare of "What the hell are these adults making us do?" You had to admit that the traditional dress and their faces were captivating.
Around 2, the taxi for the Juliaca airport picked us all up from the hostal. For Ryan and me, this was the start of our goodbye to Peru. On our way to the airport, we passed another fabulous contributor to the area's impeccable air quality:
Turns out that was my last photo in Peru, but fortunately, not my last impression.
Our flight to Lima lasted all of an hour and a half. Everyone got their bags upon arrival. Ryan and I hugged Amanda, Larry, and Tami goodbye. We wouldn't see them again until they returned to the States. After Ryan and I saw off the others, we did some reconnaissance of the Lima airport. It was 6 PM on Friday and our first of 3 flights home didn't take off until 5:35 AM the next morning. We were in for a long night...Where would we like to set up camp?
There is no carpeting and there are no quiet corners in the Lima airport. It is tile, open spaces, and major thoroughfares. Ryan didn't go for my suggestion of camping out in the chapel. What?? Its a legitimate suggestion in my eyes!! Its quiet, set out of the way, and there is no fluorescent lighting...Its got a soothing ambiance - perfect for sleeping!!
After scoping out some food, which for some reason my stomach wasn't interested in more than crackers, Ryan and I sat down on the bridge leading from the second floor of the airport to the airport hotel. We weren't alone - there were two other travelers already camped out - and the area would gather a crowd as the night went on.
I tried to sleep laying on the floor with my head propped on my bag. I was partially successful. I would sleep for about 45 minutes at a time, despite the flight announcements going off over the loud speaker every 15 minutes. "Ding dong. TACA flight number two, six, five to Bogota is now boarding in departure lounge number 18." I also found moments of sleep through the sounds of pipes dropping, hand saws, and other plumbing construction going on mere feet from where we lay. Other sounds filling the airport: babies crying, crowds yammering, and people walking by. However, by midnight, I was cold and uncomfortable on the tile floor, and hungry. The myriad sounds were hammering into my head and I couldn't shut them out. So, I got up and went to Starbucks. Even in Lima, there is Stabucks. I find that a little nauseating, but man, they make a mean hot chocolate (I did say the floor made me cold). Plus, I was able to get a muffin de manzana with cinnamon. They warmed that up for me without me even having to ask!
As I ate my muffin and drank my hot chocolate, I watched all the people waiting on the bridge (I think they were waiting to pick up passengers arriving on flights). I would also stare down the people walking past that stared at Ryan and me like we were on display. Yeah, we're sleeping in the airport...What of it, foo'?
It was amazing that this airport NEVER quieted down. Flights continued to arrive past midnight, past 1 AM. And the construction on the pipes continued past 1 AM. Ryan was able to sleep through the din a little longer than me - how? I don't know...
I finished my fluff paperpack, which I started on the flight to Peru, but didn't crack open since I arrived. ["The Undomestic Goddess," by Sophie Kinsella. Ladies, I recommend this as a great beach read.] Around 3 AM, Ryan and I noticed a line of people down near the Copa Airlines counter and we figured that was our flight. We scuttled downstairs to hurry up and wait. No less than two Copa Airlines employees asked us if we needed tags for our luggage. I had three tags on my bag. Simple observation would let you know that I'm good to go, but hey, maybe that's just me...
We checked in. Then we paid our departure tax of 100 soles. It makes you slightly glad that the US folds all those fees and taxes into the final cost of your airfare. Notice I only said "slightly" glad...Then, we sat at the terminal. I shopped at duty free and bought the perfume I'd been wanting for years: L'eau d'Issey Miake. Our gate would not open until boarding time. I was slightly confused when I went through customs, then noticed that our gate was on the OTHER side of customs. This airport is weird...
I think I slept on the flight to Panama City. I also remember feeling nauseous. I'm not really sure what my body was trying to tell me. I am going home already!! Panama City airport was warm and muggy. Already I felt happy about returning to a place where I didn't have to figure out how many layers I needed to wear for the day. I felt better on the flight to Miami and for a lack of anything better to do, I watched the in-flight film, "Definitely, Maybe," for the second time. I already watched it on the Panama City flight en route to Lima almost 2 weeks before. Maybe I watched it for nostalgia's sake...or I was bored and not sleepy.
We landed in Miami and my nausea was gone. Maybe my intestines were celebrating my return to my homeland? Regardless, I was so excited to be so close to home. It was 1:45 PM. Lima is an hour behind Eastern Daylight Savings Time. We had been in transit for nearly 24 hours. Ryan and I miraculously breezed through baggage and customs. YAY! I checked into our flight to Tampa, we grabbed some food, and we headed down to our commuter terminal on the ground floor of the Miami airport.
Ryan and I had minor heart attacks when it was announced that our scheduled 4 PM flight was delayed for 2 hours, but the desk agent offered up 2 seats on the flight preceeding that one (Allelujah!! Can I get a witness??? Can I get a witness??...). We would leave almost immediately...at 4 PM. ??? I guess some thunderstorms were mucking up all the works for scheduled small aircraft flights.
I nearly ran onto our puddle jumper. In an hour, through gathering stormclouds, we arrived at my favorite airport - Tampa International. Get me in a cab and get me HOME!! Bags? Check! Cab? Check check. Crossing the bridge from Tampa to St. Pete never felt so good, or so exhausting. My shower and my bed felt closer than ever. What hour of transit were we on? 27??
The cab dropped us off at Ryan's car, which was parked in a friend's driveway. Then Ryan dropped me off at my doorstep. I unlocked my apartment door and gratefully stepped over the threshold. I was home. I just had the adventure of a lifetime and now, I could rest...until the next one.
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