Tag: Peru

Adventures in Rabies and Tetanus in the 3rd World

The Dog Bite In the spring of 1962, 11-year-old Gary was settled in with his family to their new home in Lima, Peru. As the boy made his way to the American Society’s library to pick up a book, he encountered a few dogs congregated at the doorway. Having never met a dog he didn’t love,... Read more »

The Idiot's Guide to Foreign Language

  Foreign language always seemed so, well, foreign. Who needs it? No one in my world spoke a foreign language, no one except Ricky Ricardo on I Love Lucy whose linguistic errors were a running joke. Living in Houston, my middle school French teacher spoke an unintelligibly drawled version of French. When she left teaching to go... Read more »

The Mutiny on the 7-2-7

In the mid-1970s, Gary and I decided to go back to Lima, Peru to visit his parents before they moved back to America after over a dozen years abroad. Peru was pretty much the same. If anything, it seemed to be economically worse off. As I sat alone in a car, young women would approach... Read more »
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The Mother-in-Law (The Interview Oprah Missed)

You heard us before you saw us. With a jubilant scream, we’d run across rooms to embrace–startling bystanders and timid animals alike. At this point our heads would tilt together as we jabbered and finished each other’s sentences. So much to catch up from the last time we’d been together. My wonderful, BFF mother-in-law, Bea,... Read more »

Whatcha Sniffing, Peru?

Gary had told me the story of Huaraz, the town buried under a mudslide in 1970. So having some time and a bit of money for a weekend getaway, we decided to fly there from Lima, Peru in 1972. While his airline ticket said the flight was to leave at 8:00 a.m, mine said the very... Read more »

View from the Loo

“I’m off to the loo,” I announced to no one in particular one fine Mexican day. “The what?” questioned the curious new woman fresh off the airplane from America. “The loo,” I repeated. “The restroom,” I translated. Or the servicio, as it was called in Mexico. Or the toilet as it was called in much of... Read more »
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The Journey to Somewhere, Travel in Peru 1970s

In the Peru of 1972 long distance bus travel was an exercise in persistence, patience, luck and having a very large bladder. The day before traveling, my fluent-Spanish-speaking husband Gary, our 16-year-old niece and I walked down to the Hidalgo Bus Company to inquire about tickets, times and the cost of a trip to the... Read more »

The Cultural Perspective

Over the years living in Peru, Paraguay, Ecuador and Mexico, I learned that Latin Americans don’t want to disappoint. It’s a cultural thing. It’s also a thing that confounds expatriates, who come from a rather different cultural perspective. For example, there’s that word mañana. Though our well-thumbed dictionary defined it as tomorrow, I’d learned firsthand it... Read more »

If life doesn't come with a handbook; where does the advice come from?

There you are. Warm and fed,and cozy and—HOLY MERDE–someone turns on the high beams—and with a scream of surprise, you are born. Welcome to the world Ethan and Theo. It’s 2033 and you are my strapping six feet plus tall grandsons with a grandmother who has no advice for you. What a clueless Grandma C... Read more »
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One Regret I Regret: or, if only I'd known what I know now

           If Dr. Who parked his time-traveling, blue police box TARDIS outside of my door, I’d revisit the younger me. That 21-year-old who agonized whether to follow her gut instinct and go to Lima, Peru to live with her American boyfriend and his family in 1972.  As my younger self’s guardian angel, I’d whisper “Yes–take that... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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