Peru – December 2007

Christmas and I have an unconventional relationship. When I was very young, my parents and I had a traditional Christmas tree complete with ornaments, lights, and garland, with the requisite wrapped presents underneath. Over time, however, the tree was replaced with a stuffed penguin wearing antlers in a sleigh, and the presents were put inside a large trash can so that our dogs wouldn’t destroy them. An added benefit of the trash can was that, after all the presents were unwrapped, the wrapping paper and boxes could go back into it for easy cleanup.


As such, I don’t mind being away for the holidays. This Christmas, I’ve chosen to be in Cusco, Peru, on Christmas Day. I should point out that Christmas Eve in Peru, at least in Cusco, is like New Year’s Eve in the States, with lots of music, dancing, and alcohol. I didn’t realize this when booking the trip, but went out with a few in my group for dancing and drinks, and didn’t return until after 4 a.m., much to the chagrin of my roommate. This was also the night I learned I have a high tolerance for vodka (my Ukranian ancestors would be proud).


While the others I’d been out with are sleeping it off, I’m out and about early to enjoy Cusco on Christmas day, which is full of people and pageants. We’ve been in town for a few days, and I have become used to vendors approaching me to sell something, but I wasn’t prepared for Jimmy. Unlike other sellers who have a stall to display their wares, Jimmy is on foot with just two paintings he’s offering to sell. He paints them, he says, though they look exactly like all the other paintings being sold throughout the city.


I politely tell Jimmy I’m not interested. Still, he keeps insisting that the profits from his sales go to support his school supplies. Jimmy seems to be around sixteen and, being mobile, isn’t going to take no for an answer lightly. I again let him know I’m not interested, so he changes tactics, or at least product. Would I be interested in some knives? He can take me to a nearby shop with some lovely examples. I do love a good knife, but I can’t imagine getting one through US Customs. Besides, I thought Jimmy was an artist.


Clearly not deterred by my lack of interest in paintings or knives, Jimmy now offers some beautiful women only a few blocks from the Cathedral. Now I’m not Catholic, but offering up a prostitute only a few blocks from a Cathedral on Christmas Day seems like some sort of sin, and now I’m a sinner-by-association. I let Jimmy provide a few more details as we are heading toward the aforementioned Cathedral, which I duck into in an attempt to lose him, figuring pimps probably don’t attend Christmas mass. I typically don’t either, but needs must. I wait twenty minutes inside, hoping he’s found another mark in the meantime.


Jimmy isn’t there when I re-emerge, but I sense he’s out there somewhere. If you ever need paintings, knives, or beautiful women and you happen to find yourself in Cusco on Christmas Day, he’s your man.

This travel tale is included in my collection, Can’t Get Here from There: Fifty Tales of Travel. Buy it on Amazon.

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