Amanda is standing in line at the domestic departures gate of the Lima airport. Our flight leaves in an hour.
I’m sitting in a shiny black Toyota taxi, worming my way through the traffic-clogged streets of Lima, choking on clouds of unfiltered exhaust. I’ve got another two hours (at least) of traffic and fumes (for a total of three this morning) before I get to the airport.
Or, rather, before I get BACK to the airport. Because after twelve years of international travel, I’ve done the unmentionable: I’ve left my passport at the hostel. On the first day of the trip!
It was a horrible feeling to be asked for my passport and not to find it; even worse to have to call Amanda back to tell her the news.
We shared a grim moment of reality, and then our pioneer/traveler pragmatism kicked in. We called the hostel to confirm that the errant document was, in fact, there (it was). Then I jumped in the taxi and Amanda jumped in line. Rendez-vous in two hours at the airport entrance.
Thus begins unplanned adventure number one.

Mucho trafico