Thursday, June 30, 2011  Respiro la Niebla  I said I didn't want
to float through my life. I came to South America, and now I'm
running to keep up with it. It's a marathon that I have all the
enthusiasm and motivation for, but I'm starting to lose my
breath and the soles of my shoes are wearing thin. I can see the
finish line and I'm called to it, and at the same time, I wish
this last stretch would never end.  I had the very good fortune
to fly home at the end of last month for my best friend's
wedding. I had been looking forward to it as homesickness
started hitting me a couple of weeks before. I was expecting a
much needed water break, a few days of recuperation to finish
strong. But it turned out to be a race in and of itself. It
started with an interrogation at the airport in Lima. Laden down
with the weight of a 45 liter backpack and equally large duffle
bag plus my personal carry-on, I excitedly waddled up to the
door of the airport. However, I was accosted by two apparently
very bored airport employee