I felt quite sad that this would be my last day in Lima. I'd gotten used to being back in the house, to hearing the baker on his bike beeping his horn to sell his wares, to breathing in the humid air that fills me with childhood memories, to looking out of the window at the statue of the Virgin in the park, to watching TV with my grandparents. I got dressed quickly and joined them for breakfast. Then Tia Silvia told me the plan: she and Annabelle would be going with Tio Mañuco to a market (not much like the market in Huancayo, this reminded me more of the Sunday market we have at home) for their last-minute shopping, then he'd drop them off at the artesans' market. Then we'd have lunch, and take a taxi to the airport. Would I like to join them in the morning?
So we went - it was great to be able to see Tio Mañuco and Maria Gracia before we went home. And it was quite nice walking around the artesans' market, I spent most of the time mentally comparing prices (50 soles in Lima for a jumper, 35 soles in Huancayo for the same thing etc). One of the vendors mentioned that Annabelle and I were foreign, Tia said that we'd be heading back to Texas that afternoon. She later said that she comes up with a different story each time, I tend to stick with the same story (Martha the student from Miami. On a related note, sometimes people say that Mum and Tia Silvia don't seem like they're from Lima - Mum now says she's from Arequipa, and Tia that she's from Cajamarca. I guess the longer you spend living away from a place, the less you're seen as a person from that place by strangers).
We got a taxi back to the house, then Tia went with Tio Alejandro and Yessica to buy pollo a la brasa (I felt slightly guilty to be eating meat on Good Friday, since I'm supposed to be fasting) while Annabelle and I set the table (since there're so many of us in the house, it's not fair on Veronica to do everything for us, so we help out). Abuelo was feeling ill so he stayed in bed, but the rest of us shared the pollo a la brasa meal together. That was lovely.
The afternoon was a mad rush of packing - I'd nearly finished packing, but there were still a few last-minute items that needed to be squeezed in, and the suitcases needed weighing. Thankfully there were no issues there, and everything was packed. Then we discussed how we'd get a taxi: after many suggestions and a few disagreements, Yessica went out with Tia Silvia and Tio Alejandro to the main road to hail two taxis. The first one would take me and Tio, since my flight left first (40 mins before Tia and Annabelle - I thought this a little odd) - this arrived not long after, so Tio helped me put my cases in the car.
Then it was time to say goodbye to Mamamama and Abuelo. That was hard - who knows when I'll next see them? There's a quotation I often think of, that I saw in a Pokemon game: "'Goodbye' is the beginning of 'Hello'". That gets me through when I have to say goodbye to somebody.
Tio and I got to the airport with no hassle (he spent the trip talking politics with the taxi driver, I watched out of the window at Lima), then we got in the queue for my airline, and soon I bade godspeed to my suitcases as they disappeared out of sight. Tio and I saw Annabelle and Tia in their queue (I was with AirEuropa, they were with Iberia, hence different flights), then we went with Yessica to McDonalds. Tia and Annabelle joined us there, we chatted until my flight was called. Tia, Annabelle and I went through together - we said our goodbyes to Tio Alejandro and Yessica, then went through to customs. Usually I pay airport tax (about $35 or $40) at this point, but Tia explained to the guard that her ticket included airport tax, so he waved her through. Annabelle went with her - and I admit, so did I. I wasn't called back, so we carried on straight to security.
Ten minutes later, there we were in the lounge. I said bye to Tia and Annabelle, then went to my gate - the board announced the 7.40pm flight. 7.40pm? My flight was at 7.05pm... had I somehow missed it? I panicked a bit then - my watch said 6.30, so I should be okay... I asked at the desk, they assured me that it was the same flight, but it was a bit late. So why they didn't just put a sign saying 'Delayed' is beyond me. I wandered around a bit and found Tia and Annabelle in a cafe - we chatted a bit, then I checked the gate again. Nothing, so I went back and chatted some more. Then I went back - this time they were doing the last call, and people were in the line. So I sprinted back to Tia and Annabelle (not the easiest thing when you've a large rucksack on your back and are trying to not knock over other travellers), said goodbye to them, then ran back. Some minutes later, I was on the plane, and not long after that we took off. I had nobody next to me, so I stretched out a bit with my book and flicked through the films. Tia had given me earphones, so I spent the rest of the night watching film after film after film.
During my last trip, I thought a lot about my experience, and what had happened. This time, I thought a lot about my experience and what could happen in the future. Strange thoughts have been coming to me since I spoke with Sonia about the kids she worked with, thoughts about what I wanted to do. The best way I can describe my thoughts is that it was similar to falling in love for the first time - an awful lot of denial, a lot of what-ifs, a lot of doubts and uncertainty and reluctance to do anything, just in case feelings turned out to be something else. This felt completely different to falling in love, but my thoughts went down pretty much the same lines. Having talked to Mum and Tia Silvia a bit about this, I'm now considering working with projects like these - not just in the holidays, but as a career. I felt more 'real' there than I've ever done - I felt the same in 2009, but didn't think much on that then. There're still a lot of confusing thoughts in my head about this - what about my psychology degree, what about the life I'd imagined for myself in the UK? While I was in bed with fever a few weeks ago, I wrote a few things down in a notebook - most of them are doodles of cats in honeypots or story-characters dancing (my mind does strange things when I'm ill), but one page has written on it "At home it's about what the country can do for me. Over here, it's what I can do for the country." I don't want to forget that. I want to do more to help, whether it's with Makikita or with another organisation. A few friends laughed when I described the children as 'my kids' - but they are, I feel that they are in a way that I can't explain. I still need to think and talk a lot more about this, but this is where my thoughts are now. And where my thoughts were as I failed to fall asleep on the flight back home.
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