Rock n' Roll

So I confess, I spent more than a week in Lima and I wasn't my most productive, vague, nebulous ideas of trying to get a volunteering post involving the textile trade or Art were dreamt up along my many to-ings and fro-ings around Miraflores to my hostel, to parks, cafes, friends hostels, cinemas and tourist sights.

It was pleasant, but when night fell we would end up drinking too many Pisco Sours, Cusquenas, Vodkas. One particularly ambient night in a very classy hostel bar we started a game of cards. Unwittingly I was playing the dumb blonde and losing, seeking advice from the stranger next to me who had joined in. He bought me some drinks, we got talking and suddenly we were kissing in the toilets. I know I wasn't the one who engineered this situation, but apparently I offered no resistance either. Exceptional class, I don't know if this little trip isn't a homage to youth and freedom, as if it's my last chance to do silly things like this before I go back home and become a real adult with real responsibilities. The thing is - I've managed to avoid this teenage right of passage thus far and had the fortune of always making it home with the guy at the end of the night to have some proper privacy. Hostel dorm rooms don't exactly lend themselves to romantic hook-ups. Needless to say, the party hostels with bars are just asking for trouble and teenage kicks. I think everyone has a hostel sex story, they got lucky and had sex in a hostel or they feel foul of this wheel of fortune and happened to be sharing a dorm room where a couple where getting it on. Such is life.

I got carried away with the vodka and this seemingly nice gentleman who had been helping not lose at cards and buying me drinks. We got it on in the toilets. Fortunately they were spotlessly clean, I assure you. And we saved other tired and weary backpackers in need of a calm night's sleep from having to share our drunk moment of stolen intimacy. Unfortunately, the militant night-shift receptionist had clocked us and I got embarrassingly clapped around the ear, told off, and thrown out of the hostel (I wasn't a paying over-night guest, just a paying bar guest). Given an angry dressing down in front of sniggering bar staff and backpackers alike. We left together and found so very strong cocktails, had to soak them up with some chips and stumble back to our respective hostels.

I recounted the incident to my flatmate back in London - rock n' roll! Was her response.