A few posts ago I mentioned that I may be becoming a minimalist. I'm really enjoying not having to worry about what I wear or how my make up looks. The girls here don't look like they wear as much makeup as the ones in the States, and they are still beautiful. The backpackers rarely even wear clean clothes so all the dressing up and selfie crap is nonexistent. I worry only about the plans for the day and who we are going to spend it with.
In Lima, my parents took my sister and I to a hostel before they left. My mom made a huge deal about how gross the place was. We ended up not staying there because we hopped on an overnight bus to Trujillo, but she drove me insane with the fact that a hostel was not up to par with her Marriott. Michelle and I made fun of it at every new place we stayed, thinking how much my mom would cringe at the thought of sleeping on a mattress on the floor or in a place that needed a little sweeping.
One of the girls I met in Huanchaco, a Dutch chica named Flor, invited us over for breakfast one morning. A random door on one of the streets opens into a courtyard-type space. In one corner is a sink surrounded by a little counter space, an old fridge, and a plastic table. Random baskets hang from the sides of the building for storage. Inside another door goes into the bedrooms and a bathroom. All of it is old and not kept up due the constant change of residency. At first, my thoughts were very negative. I was slightly grossed out at the condition of the sink and I noticed that the fridge was rusting. But after some thought and another delicious meal, I had a totally different mindset.
The French chef, Audrey, makes the best food I've had my entire life, no joke. Her kitchen is tiny. It's literally smaller than the size of my bathroom in Georgia. There's pots and pans everywhere and a fly trapper hanging right by the entrance. I was so surprised to see that the huge portions of artistic food I ate came from such a cramped space.
Last night we were walking on the beach and saw the most hippy looking VW bus parked. It's ends up that this Argentinian guy named Fernando has lived in it for five years straight, driving all over Central and South America. He makes these little instruments to sell as he travels and is completely content with this way if living. We drank mate tea with him and learned about his life and heard some incredible stories.
Living where I am from is a blessing. We have a huge house, people we hire to clean it, and Mom makes sure everything is spotless. It's great. But it takes some travelling to see that having all that does not mean as much as we, in the States, are raised to think. So many people live with so much less, and they might actually be happier than we are.
As an almost twenty year old, the last thing I want to be held down by is stupid things like nice, new clothes and a table clothe that matches the curtains. My sister and I were just talking about how much fun we have had and how much we've done the past few days. I love the small, Latin lifestyle of markets and simple houses. These people live to surf, to hike, to party, and to make good food without all the extra glamour that the world I live in at home is obsessed with.
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