Where's the Airbnb?
After two flight delays, I was worried about missing my connecting flight in LA. I left work early + raced to the airport to try to jump on an earlier flight. Gotta get to Cusco + reunited with my soul-friend, STAT. After a series of unfortunate Uber pool passengers, a minor episode of tears, permission to skip all of security, and then a little sprint to my gate, I made it onto the flight and onto LA and finally to Lima.From Lima to Cusco, I found my Spanish *extremely* lacking. Case in point: My driver from the airport to my Airbnb began peppering me with questions. In my race to keep up with his Spanish, I responded "yes, I have a son." Hermano and hijo are NOT the same thing. Duh, I know this. I should've recognized my mistake a beat quicker when the driver asked about my husband, and then my boyfriend. "Nope, I don't have either."
He finally dropped me off at Plaza San Blas, and I climbed step after step, one long hill that rivaled San Francisco, until I found my Airbnb and my soul-friend on Calle Kiskapata. I have arrived.