Camp La Mesa

Day Two of Summer Camp La Mesa was going pretty well. Maybe it was watching swathes of gold lights in the mountain villages last night. Or maybe it was Yali learning how to not throw anything in his hands across the room – kid’s got a decent arm on him though. Or maybe it was being able to listen to the Cards take down the Cubs at Wrigley, John Rooney style on the balcony. Whatever it was, I think I got my second wind.

For the morning, we walked the wrap-around balcony and open halls, confirming our suspicions that in every room a portrait of Charlie Chaplin hangs on the walls. I have no logical explanation for that one. Listening to the sounds of the city, the yakking from the police station across the street, all of them in olive uniforms, some carrying AK-47s on the street, crucifixes in their police cars (more like pick-ups and a big bus that just sits there in the street). And of course the occasional cock-a-doodle-do of one very confused rooster in the slums at the bottom of the hill.

Meanwhile, Puck was preparing to join a buddy from school at Sky Zone in the Valley. I could hear his excitement over Skype as he played with a large pile of Legos in Gloria’s living room.

Sometime after eleven o’clock, with a baby in fine spirits – seems to be his usual deal – we walked the streets again in search of lunch and anything else interesting.

Lunch ended up being an open-air restaurante on the other edge of town. Two fat bowls of soup (I think mine was beef-noodle with cilantro), large plates of beef, red beans, sweet rice, slaw, and fried plantain. And more cold freshly squeezed mild-tasting juice (something in the way of citrus, but much better). Yali is clearly already spoiled when it comes to juice; he turns up his nose to boxed and bottled versions, but he sucks down the good stuff without a thought.

Dessert was the bakery attached to the restaurant. I saw them on the way in: buñuelos warming under glass. I’d heard about them, these fried donuts (for lack of a better term), like a small cannonball sitting in your hand. They did not disappoint. Crunchy cover, soft thick inside.

I’ve impressed myself on this trip when it comes to gastronomy. I even tried fried yucca last week. Granted, I didn’t know I was eating fried yucca at first. It was the Fourth of July so I figured the B&B was just surprising us with abnormally large French fries. But turns out, fried yucca isn’t so bad.

The Andes are beautiful. In the middle of the adoption process you can almost forget to realize how stunning it is to just sit and watch them for awhile. Ancient beasts.