Lista en Lima

My bosses, Susana and George, are still doing their fundraising trip in Europe. While I would have loved to visit Europe again, I do not envy this particular trip.



Lima to Madrid.
Madrid to Bilbao.
Bilbao to Madrid.
Madrid to Finland.
Finland to Denmark.
Denmark to The Netherlands.
The Netherlands to Barcelona.
Barcelona to Madrid.
Madrid to Switzerland.
Switzerland to Madrid.
Madrid to Lima.

That's a 2.5 week trip. I was worried about under scheduling them when, in fact, I should have considered the opposite. However, I spoke with them via Skype on Thursday; and they told me that, so far, I've done a great job. That's certainly a relief for the 22-year-old who has no experience in fundraising (no experience really in the professional workplace). And exhale.

Friday afternoon Edrina and I decided to check out the famous Gamarra. Before yesterday, I had been told that Gamarra was a giant flea market where you could buy everything for half of the original price. That is only 1/4 true. Gamarra is a collection of stores and galleries full of stores and galleries full of galleries full of stores...and so on...that spans about 5 square blocks. Inside these stores are rack upon rack of cheaply made and cheaply sold clothes (an occasional rack upon rack of shoes). Anything and everything that can be worn can be found in Gamarra. The galleries are usually 5 or 6 floors. The bottom floors are reserved for retail while the retail sold on the bottom floors is made on the top floors. High above the streets are hundreds and hundreds of Peruvians cutting out cardboard patterns, running machines, and doing needlework by hand. Their best products are sold to high-end department stores in Lima's rich district. Others are sold below them in Gamarra.

Gamarra is in La Victoria, a district of Lima with an unusually high crime rate. When Edrina and I told a friend that we were going to take a taxi there, a matronly woman (eavesdropper) said, "No! No se vayas! Es muy peligroso!" (No! Don't go! It's dangerous!). We went anyway, but only because we were meeting our friend, Vicky, who is from Peru and already knows the ropes. We spoke Spanish the whole time so we didn't stick out like sore thumbs. Nothing eventful happened. We attracted about as much attention as usual, but we were generally left alone.

While the shops appeared to be bursting with merchandise, the streets were similarly hemorrhaging people. Men and women selling drapes, shirts, baby shoes, chicha morada, chorros...young people running from shop to shop in their knock-off Pumas...kids doing their homework on the floor while their mothers sewed. Me stepping gingerly over piles of trash and dodging stray dogs. My senses were so overstimulated that I couldn't even look at the clothes.