Destination: ____________?
 Este gitano vuele a "Home Sweet Home" 5:30AM wake-up. 6AM Taxi. 6:30AM Bus. Ugh. I did not like getting up early but it was a pact I had made with myself to no longer take night buses. With several days left in my journey, I was in no hurry to get anywhere quickly. If I was really wanting to be crazy, I could have taken a bus all the way to Paracas in one day. Since this is K-Run’s Journey and not The Amazing Race, there is no prize for stupidity. Plus, I was not 100% better yet. At the bus station. I paid my departure tax, dropped off my bags, and grabbed a coffee with my usual efficiency. An Aussie dude who was traveling with his wife that looked old enough to be his mother tried to keep breaking my grove at each step. Where did you pay the tax? Who did you give your bags to? Where did you get your coffee? I thought, hmmmm, should I charge him one Sole for each question I answer? I was kind and helpfully answered his many questions. Him and his elderly looking travel companion also nabbed the other shotgun seats. The man complained about those who get these prime seats and sleep the entire time. Within 20 minutes into our ride, I took a breather in my last “50 Shades” book to see that he was passed out cold. Well, it was early and there was at least 9 more hours of scenery to take in later. The scenery was similar to the ride from Puno to Cusco. Seven hours later I realized way, we took the same route stopping in dusty Juliaca for my third time. Still, even though the landscape remained “unchanged” the people’s activities along the roadside villages always amuses me. I noticed there were signs that you would not see in The States, signs with a picture most resembling a vicuña (to my eye) to notify drivers that llama(s), alpaca(s) or vincuña(s) may be wandering, darting or standing in the road. Lo and behold, we encountered many along our ride. I was glad I had picked up my warty-looking mandarins, bottle of yogurt and king-sized water since we did not have many vendors popping on and off the bus. I tried to buy 2 small queso empanadas from a lady but she would not break my S.5 coin. As we were rolling into Arequipa, Shakira’s song “Gypsy” was playing. I thought about my friend Shauna, whom I had met in El Salvador. She said she referred to herself as a gypsy based on all the places she has lived in her life. I had agreed with her due to the same reasons and my need to roam. Ironically, I was pining for home. This has been a sweet-ass journey but I was longing for my sweet spot in SF. I am happy to travel but I am also happy to have a home that I am content to be in, inbetween. Tonight, I would have to settle for my return to Home Sweet Home where I met my dear friends: Denise, Muriel and Tamara. Of course getting off the bus the Aussie asked, "Do you know where your staying?" Yes, Home Sweet Home but said, "Flying Dog." Research dude. Research. Plus, I will only share my sweet spots with certain selected people. The Home is a sacred place!
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