JC and I have been wandering around the downtown part of Lima for about a couple of hours at this point. We have explored the colonial quarters and have taken great pleasure in meandering around the narrow cobblestoned alleyways. We have gaped in wonder at the old Spanish style buildings peppered all over the neighborhood, taken more photos than humanly possible, and practiced our horrible Spanish at the poor unsuspecting locals. As this was a Sunday night, the parks were filled with families out for an early evening stroll. It was by all accounts a lovely way to spend the day.
A little past eight, we decided to start looking for a place to have dinner. We initially went to Chinatown in hopes of finding a good Chinese meal, but as luck would have it, that particular Chinatown was nothing but a little street surrounded by mom and pop Chinese stores. We tried looking for restaurants by Plaza de las Armas, but for some inexplicable reason, all restaurants were closed already. We eventually decided to just return to Miraflores, where we know for sure that the bars and restaurants will be open until the wee hours of the night.
On our way back to the Metrobus station, two college aged kids approached us armed with a small digital video camera and notebooks. They were doing a school project and needed to interview tourists for said project. I pushed JC over to them and told the kids that he would be more than happy to be the star of their video. (He wasn’t.) But I figured, between JC and me, they would prefer the adorable, tall, blonde, and blue-eyed American.
They handed him a notebook filled with interview questions, and without any preamble, proceeded to roll tape. God bless JC for being such a sport. He went through the interview like a seasoned pro, despite the fact that he was both nervous and uncomfortable at the same time. He couldn’t keep his arms still, he would be moving his hands from his sides, then to his pockets, then he would cross it across his chest before putting them back in his pockets. He was bouncing up and down on his heels. All these was in between bouts of nervous laughter and desperately trying to figure out what the interviewer was saying. I never really understood the phrase “deer caught in headlights” until I saw JC’s face during the interview. Half the time his eyes were pleading for help and an escape, the other half, I could have sworn he was plotting my imminent murder and death. Not that I blame him though, I did push him, literally, to do the interview.
A couple of minutes later the interview wraps up, and the kids thank him for helping out. I think they gave him a pen or something as a thank you present. We said goodbye to the kids and continued our way back to the Metrobus station. As we were walking, he asked how the interview looked. I told him it looked great and that he looked smashing in his debut as a Peruvian heartthrob.
“Really?” he asks.
“Yes!!”, I answered back, and that was the honest truth.
I just wish I remembered to take a photo of him doing the interview, but truth be told, I was having way too much fun enjoying the surrealism of the whole experience to remember anything else.