The most amazing thing happened today...I was finally able to take a guitar home! It seems like it has been years since I've had such an opportunity. Damn, I've missed the feeling. The first opportunity I had to play a guitar here in Peru was just last week in a music store in the provincial capital of Lambayeque (up in the northern part of the country). I was with a fellow volunteer, a percussionist. Him and I shared the release of our built up musical tensions. More so, the people working at the store didn't seem to mind our disturbances. In fact, a band of high school-aged students walked in and admired our noise. Within moments, we were having a threesome with a guitar, a djembe, and a twelve string mandolin-type thing as we broke out 'Hotel California' in all of its bi-lingual beauty.
This evening, with my new friend in hand, I went up onto my roof. I sat on the ledge and looked out upon the lights that disturb the darkness between the barren mountains. The scene seemed so out of context from the last time I was able to make some noise and bring the funk on some nylon. Ignoring the aching in my wrist and fragile fingertips, I played along to the barking of stray dogs on the faint bass rhythms of reggaeton. I couldn't help but break a smile as I noted that I was finally taking my turn in annoying the neighborhood. Suddenly, everything has changed.
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