Ceviche de la Noche

It’s a weird thing for someone to call you brave for doing something you have never thought twice about. For the last few months though, this was the most common response I received when telling people about my travel plans. “Wow, two months in South America? And you’re going... alone? And you’re not scared?”  

And the reality was, I wasn't scared. Ready for an adventure? Oh yeah. Excited about meeting new people? For sure. Scared? Hell-to-tha-nah. But did the absence of fear really make me brave? I'm not sure. I mean, I wasn’t even scared when a good friend of mine reassured me that crying the first few days and sincerely wondering what the actual fuck I was thinking was a completely normal response. The universe has an incredible sense of humor, and it likes to double (sometimes triple and quadruple) check if what we say, think, and feel is in alignment with what we do. So, it was only fitting that on my first day of solo travel the universe tapped his buddy on the shoulder and was like, “this bitch says she ain’t scared.” And his buddy was all “Pfffffff man, prove it.” To which the universe smirked, nodded, and replied, “Bro, watch this.” *passes blunt*  

As I sit in the airport in Lima, Peru, reflecting on the events leading up to this moment, I can appreciate the Universe's banter. However, about 6 hours ago, shit got real… REAL quick. I had just landed in Lima, and after 21 hours of travel I was not looking forward to the 8 hour layover I had before my final flight to Cusco, where I believed my journey would start. Little did I know that the moment I landed in Lima was when my journey would actually begin. I debated booking a room at a hostel beforehand, but my best friend convinced me this would not be necessary, and we decided I would just tough it out in the airport to avoid any unnecessary complications. Idiot fish. So, I made it through customs, grabbed my bag, and was feeling pretty good about my trip so far. I had only used English when absolutely necessary, and the excitement for my adventure was building with each hour that I got closer to Cusco. With the classic Natalie-bounce in my step, I made my way to the ticketing counter to check back in for my flight. Along the way I ran into a gentleman who asked where I was headed and what airline I was flying on. I proceeded to tell him the details of my trip, hoping he could point me in the right direction, but instead he gave me some rather unsettling news. “You can’t check in until tomorrow morning, 3am at the earliest,” he said to me in Spanish. “The fuck do you mean I can’t check in until tomorrow morning” I thought. Pan over to Señor Universe and his hombre and they’re having a good little chuckle right about now. Oh-ho, but just wait... there’s more. The gentlemen proceeds to tell me about a hotel nearby I can stay at, and that he can drop me off there and pick me up en la mañana. Right here red flags start going off for Natalie. I checked with another airport employee to verify this information, and unfortunately it all checked out. I was at a cross-roads. It was already dark out. I had no idea what direction the city center was or how much it would cost for me to get there. Plus, even if I did head that way, I didn't want to walk around solo-dolo searching for a hostel.  

“Te sientes segura?” The gentleman asked me.  

Uh.. no bro. I don’t feel safe. I am alone, at night, in a foreign country, without wifi or any way of contacting anyone. I have no idea where to go or what to do, and honestly all I can think to do right now is cry. It’s pretty safe to say my root chakra was absolutely f’d in the b-hole (and not in a good way). In other words, I was scared, and the last thing I felt in that moment was brave. This was a whole new level of vulnerability, and I knew the Universe’s buddy was up there going “See dude, I told you she was scared.” Yet, at the same time, I knew the Universe was the homie - he would always have my back. Sure, he might test me every now and then, but like any good teacher, he wants to see me succeed. Remembering this I was certain the Universe’s response was, “give our girl a chance.” 

With the Universe on my side, I remembered that no matter how alone I felt in that moment I was never truly alone. I called all of the love and support of my tribe back home into my heart and gave myself a little “you can do it” pep-talk.

The safety and security I was searching for could be found within me, I just had to remember that. I went with the gentleman to his taxi. I placed my bag in his trunk alongside a very large firearm (reassuring), and I continued to remind myself that I was okay. We got into the car and headed to the hotel. Orlando (I had learned his name now) looked to be about 40 and had a kind smile. He told me about his wife and his daughter - who is 4 and wants to be a doctor when she grows up. I was able to keep up with the small talk, but my focus was on my surroundings and what the F I would do if this turned out to be… less than ideal.  

After mas o menos cinco minutos, we arrived at Hotel Las Vegas. How charming. The hotel’s location was, in Orlando’s words “solamente para dormir, no para caminar.” Looking around, I could see why. I definitely was not in a destination sought out by many travelers. He assured me I was at a hotel and not a “hostal”… those weren’t for touristas, but rather for the ladies who were hanging out nearby and their noble suitors. Orlando grabbed my bag out of his trunk and we made our way inside. Just before entering the door he looked back and me and said “vas a llorar?” (are you going to cry?). Apparently I wasn’t hiding my fear as much as I thought. “No”, I lied.  

The inside of the hotel did little to reassure me, but the woman at the front desk was friendly and my room was clean. Orlando helped me get my bag upstairs, and asked if I was hungry. I had already thrown caution to the wind, so I thought “why not?”, and said yes. We hopped back into the car to go find “ceviche de la noche”. Yes, vegan Natalie got into a car with Orlando to go find ceviche, and not just any ceviche… night ceviche. According to Orlando eating ceviche at night was a whole other ballgame. You couldn’t go just anywhere, you had to be careful and make sure it was “fresca” or else it was sketch as fuck. We drove around for quite a while, and it was anything but relaxing. I thought Miami drivers were horrific, but they have nothing on Peruvians who seem to think honking their horn and aggression equate to safe driving. We made a turn off of the main road and headed into a neighborhood. Once again I felt my safety and security diminishing. Orlando explained to me that he lived nearby. “Greatttttt” I said to myself. I took a deep breath and turned my attention to the multitude of people hanging out in the streets. There were boys playing soccer in a park while an older group of men drank and laughed nearby. Children were out playing some game that I was unfamiliar with, but undoubtedly had been played by kids for generations. Their innocence and laughter brought me comfort and helped ground me. “Todo los Domingos son carnaval”, Orlando explained as we parked the car. And in that moment I was so grateful to be there during their celebration. 

The “restaurant” was essentially a street cart outside someone’s home with three sets of plastic tables and chairs all covered by a shade tent. Outside was a sign that said “Pescado Fresca”, which given the location was hard to believe, but I was trusting Orlando. He ordered us ceviche and we waited. We didn’t talk much, but that was okay with me because I was captivated by all of the life happening around me. When our food arrived Orlando asked for some peppers (I’m not sure what kind) and encouraged me to try them. I did, and tried to hide how spicy I found them which apparently was amusing. The food was absolutely delicious, and my anxiety was subsiding. I was reminded of something I say often in my yoga class - “find the comfort in the discomfort”. I knew this made the Universe smile. *Universe hits blunt again.*  

Orlando dropped me back at my hotel and assured me he would be back to take me to the airport in the morning. I suggested 3:00am, but he insisted on 3:30 so that I could sleep longer. I compromised at 3:15 which made him laugh, and he agreed. I headed upstairs for the night feeling a cocktail of emotions that no words could adequately describe. I had learned so much in one day. My romantic idea of solo travel had been completely crushed, but the realness of my journey was so much more satisfying. Although I was feeling a lot of discomfort, fear, and loneliness, I was also excited to have the opportunity to be brave, find comfort within myself, and trust in the universe. I had learned that fear can help keep us safe so long as we don’t let it paralyze us. I had learned that even when you feel completely alone, you never really are. And most importantly, I had learned to always be cautious when eating ceviche de la noche.