March 29, 2010

"Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment"

So I got shocked trying to plug in the microwave at our new home. I can’t remember the last time I got shocked that badly. It went up my left arm to the left side of my face and brain. I guess I said “Whoa!” when it happened because afterwards Half-O kept saying “Mama whoa, Mama whoa.”

That was the first day in Lima. The Archaeologist had meetings; we were on our own. All the sorting, tossing, storing, packing, and re-packing was finished. We had left an empty apartment at 7am having not slept a wink – but it was empty; we had done it. Next: 17 hours of international travel with a toddler and excess baggage. Now that was done, and the never-ending list of things to do before we left the country had somehow ended. I was listless (and also very listless – I could have slept for a week if Half-O would have obliged), and in this listless state I thought: we’re living in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language and I don’t know a soul, and we’re going to continue to do so for a year. Please can I go back to sleep?

Why didn’t I ever question whether or not this was a good idea? I questioned if it was a good idea to bring Half-O down here, but never delved into my feelings on the subject, like – is this something I want to do?* What’s with this damn stoicism? It’s brought me nothing but trouble. And so on.

Half-O, on the other hand, was gleeful. She was running inside and outside without distinction, half-naked and getting grimier by the minute.

Then I got shocked. It was so jarring – shocking, really – that I couldn’t even get mad about it. I did decide we could do without the microwave until The Archaeologist got home. And as Half-O drank her milk cold, I also decided that I should view it as my own personal electro shock therapy. Snap out of it - we’re here; we’re fine; we’ll be fine. Plus the soda and bread are way yummier here.

I’ve had a few more issues with Peruvian electricity. None as severe as that first day, but I wish I had thought of another analogy.

Here's the culprit:

Both The Archaeologist and our landlady plugged it in with no ill effects.

Here's Half-O in all her grimy glory:






*The Archaeologist said he asked me, and I don’t doubt him. I must not have been listening. I must have been compiling that to do list.

2 comments:

Damaris said...

what a cutie pie. Hey, have you had chicha morada? is that how you spell it? I love that stuff, used to drink it whenever I found some Peruvians in Brazil.

Seymour Chase said...

i haven't - our fridge is full of inka cola, guarana, and 7up. i'll look for it next time we go to the store - thanks.