12 DATE WITH THE GODScar to a halt in front of the Hotel de Turistas at
Huancayo Civic Center. As I walked into the front door
of the hotel, to my surprise I saw an old college classmate
friend of mine. We both said at the same time, "What a
small world" and "What in heavens name are you doing
here?"
"Richard, after not seeing you for five years, here I
find you at the top of the Andes Mountains," I said.
"Yes, I'm with the Peace Corps," he said.
"Peace Corps, uh; CIA is more like it."
"Oh, come on, Chacho, you're beginning to sound like
that History 102 teacher we used to have."
"Who cares, Richard. I want to get settled. I'm beat."
"Are you staying in the hotel?" Richard asked.
"Not yet, I've just come in. I'm about to check in; I came
to see the Sunday Fair."
"Oh, really? That's something well worth seeing," he
commented.
"So I've been told by the lady who was supposed to
come with me," I said, "but she chickened out at the last
minute."
"Listen," Richard said, "you can stay with me, but first
let's go and get a good meal."
At that point I didn't feel like eating anything, but it
was good to hear English spoken, so I accepted. I
followed him to the Restaurante Olympico, located in
the downtown area of the city. I watched Richard order a
full course meal. I was afraid my altitude sickness and
nausea might return, so I ordered only coffee and toast.
We sat for nearly an hour and recounted the past five
years of our lives. I told him about my adventures
getting through those mountains. And I complained
about the circumstances for which I was sleeping alone
this long weekend. I described the beautiful places I'd
seen driving to Huancayo. We both agreed this was
indeed an enchanting land. Richard told me about a