Nasty Follow-Ups
Developments to old stories sometimes get left out of this blog. This post sums up the most interesting developments regarding hazing, basketball, racism, sex, work and Peruvian culture in the following sections (click to jump): From Hazed to Hazer, San Jose Basketball, Cholo Cholin, AQP Gringo Tours, Anita, Milagros, and Scrawny Anorexic.
From Hazed to Hazer – a follow-up to Hazing in Peru
A week after the team put Icy Hot in my ass, I met Sebastián – a new addition to the team who wasn’t at our initiation. Coach said Sebastián must adhere to tradition. I was in the back of the locker room but Flaco singled me out – probably due to my performance when the team subdued me. He addressed me in English while pointing at Sebastián, “Kah-lahn, fetch.”
I didn’t hesitate. Sebastián can’t be more than 18 years old. He weighs 140 – 150 pounds and still has baby fat on his cheeks. It’s not fair. I wrapped my right arm around his right side and bent his entire upper body under my right arm. I turned him around so he was bent over in front of the entire team.
The team pounced. They ripped his pants down and started spanking him. Either the force of the mob pounce or Sebastián’s knees buckling sent him and me to the ground, his entire upper body still completely subdued under my right arm. The team spanked and spanked and started to punch his young ass until the cheeks turned red. I assumed this is what they do when they don’t have Icy Hot and considered myself fortunate they had Icy Hot for me. I started to feel bad for the kid and wanted to let him up. Then Payaso came to the front, his hand in a plastic bag caked with Icy Hot. Fuck’s sake!
My application was a quick wipe – deep but not penetrating. For Sebastián, Payaso went deep. He spent several moments in there wiggling his hand. It wasn’t quick. There are only TWO people who know whether Sebastián was penetrated, and I’m not one of them. I felt sorry for the kid. I’ve been nice to him since. Hazing is kind of stupid.
San Jose Basketball – a follow-up to the entire category
I saw a Facebook event last week for the city basketball championships. I called Coach, who asked where I’d been. He told me to come to practice Wednesday.
I’d been working to earn a spot on the starting five and also to achieve a lifelong dream: to dunk on a ten-foot rim. I ceased weight training to play basketball five times a week and follow a plyometrics program to increase my vertical. I quit when I sprained my ankle in October. Click here for a picture.
I missed the team so I went to practice. Everyone greeted me enthusiastically (¡HOLA, HUEVÓN!). In the second-half finals of this season, we play against Internacional, as opposed to La Salle in the first-half championship. After warming up, Flaco sat us down and went into a tirade about the first of the three-game series, which we won by four points. My translation is not literal, but you get the idea:
‘We go out there and fuck them up. We build a lead by ten or twenty. Then you turn into lazy asses! You play defense like girls. They catch up. They close the lead or even tie the game. Then we go up again so you can be sissies for a while. Why can’t we kill them? Why can’t we fucking kill them? I want to fucking kill them!’
Fifteen minutes of that reminded me that I didn’t miss basketball. I don’t like all the drama. I just want to play. We practiced jump shots for thirty minutes. Then I sat down while the guys ran plays and defenses. There are two new plays I hadn’t seen before. I don’t miss running plays either. I just want to play.
After practice we went to Domino’s for a team dinner and I was reminded of the constant teasing and antagonizing in Peru, especially from these guys. I heard this when walking past the other end of our table:
Paolo: “Huevón mahdair-fahkair,” (huevón motherfucker).
José: “La comida de tu país es una mierda,” (your country’s food tastes like shit).
Lorenzo: “Un país de basura,” (a shit country).
It wasn’t my choice to come here. It’s actually my first time.
José: “Se sabe como la chucha de tu mamá,” (it tastes like your mom’s pussy).
I wouldn’t know.
Lorenzo: “El negro Obama está cachando tu mamá ahorita,” (the black Obama is fucking your mom right now).
I missed you guys too.
We won Game 2 Friday night (I sat out). We went up 16 – 2 in the first quarter. We led by 9 at the half. Inter tied the game and went up by 3 in the fourth quarter with six minutes left. We went on a run for a 12-point lead with two minutes left and won by 8. This was San Jose’s fourth city championship in the last five years.
We had a big team dinner afterward, paid for by the school. Then we went to Payaso’s house and got drunk. Twenty guys – coaches, players, and school faculty – crammed into a small living room. The party was both sentimental and raucous at times. We won’t train together until May or June. I got home around 5:30 am.
Cholo Cholin – a follow-up to Cholos, Cholas, Cholo Power and Cholita Brown
My nickname has become “Cholin,” a combination of “cholo” and “Colin” – pronounced choe-leen.
People say I have cholo tendencies of the lower social class. Examples include my abundant use of ají, the spicy Peruvian sauce served with virtually everything. I eat at some of the cheapest establishments in Arequipa. I work out at cholo gyms. I occasionally drink at cholo dives. But most of all, I got my nickname due to my enthusiasm for cumbia, reggaeton, and even folklorico.
I was known to enjoy Grupo 5 and Hermanos Yaipen, but everyone was shocked when I announced I had discovered a new singer, Sonia Morales, and played a few of her songs. The backlash in the office was similar to what would happen if you were to play Kenny Chesney or Billy Ray Cyrus in an urban office setting in America. Everybody complained to me to turn it off because it’s “fea.”
The nickname was completely cemented one day when a manager had a party disc burned by a friend. She didn’t know the songs but wanted to make a list for her future reference. She played the tracks while everybody in the office shouted out the title and artist of each song. I knew more than anybody. It was pretty easy stuff: Grupo 5, Daddy Yankee, Wisin y Yandel, etc. There was a big laugh and my nickname became permanent.
Great music often comes with negative connotations. If you look up Peruvian cumbia on Wikipedia, you’ll learn that “it is very popular with the lower social classes … The higher classes generally view the music with contempt, though this subgenre is starting to become accepted among them, which is a sign of its increasing popularity.” 100% accurate in my experience. And if cumbia is low, folklorico is the bottom. Click here for a photo gallery of a Peruvian folklorico group from New York.
An analogy: imagine a young man – Matt – was born, raised, and attended college in NYC before accepting a job at a good company in a small town like Columbia, MO. While his educated coworkers have a disdain for the culture of rural Missouri, Matt has no such disdain because he’s never been around these people or their ways. He finds that he likes eating chicken livers or biscuits and gravy. He starts listening to country music. He buys a big pickup truck and has a blast at roadhouse bars packed with rednecks. His coworkers nickname him “Yankneck,” a combination of “yankee” and “redneck.” He is obviously different than rednecks because of his accent, his look, etc. But he is kind of a redneck somehow. Yankneck. Cholin.
AQP Gringo Tours – a follow-up to Normalcy and Economics
Carlos had the idea of starting a tourism agency together. I can bring in the gringos, and he knows people all over the country who can take care of them. We never followed up until one day I saw an elderly gringo couple on a downtown street that was under construction. They panted, sweating in the sun, while walking through the dirt. They looked pathetic. I assume they were looking for a place to eat. They would find nothing good in the direction they were heading.
I decided to go for the agency idea. I would help these clueless tourists get the most out their adventure in Peru. I put a link on this blog. Aside from arrangements, I thought I could provide a valuable service in showing gringos the real Peru. I’d help them off the beaten path. I could take them to the country picanterias. I could take guys to brothels. Or wherever. I’d charge a percentage for arrangements and hourly for services.
Within a week of posting the link, I got an email from “Evan.” He was visiting Cusco in December and wanted specifics about my services. I Google-searched his email address, which yielded several results of sex-related websites. I assumed he was a sex tourist. I sent a subtle reply listing “examples” of my typical services. Taking tourists to brothels was the second example – listed in between touring indigenous pueblos and making arrangements to climb a mountain (porter, guide, bus, etc.).
Evan took the bait. In addition to help getting laid, he needed full arrangements: hostel, transportation, Machu Picchu, everything. I sent a proposal to take care of all his needs. He would get picked up at the airport, taken to the hostel, have his tickets arranged, and of course somebody to take him to a brothel if he should desire. VIP. All he had to figure out was where to eat and drink.
In the price of the proposal was a 20% commission for myself – about $40. $40 is a lot of money down here, especially for just posting a link and writing a few emails. Evan eagerly agreed to the proposal and I realized I could have charged 50%.
Carlos’ friend Billy was my contact in Cusco. He stood to do well from his own service fee ($10) in addition to his owning the hostel Evan would stay at. Everything was put in place as I left for St. Louis. Billy would meet Evan at the airport with a sign that read “EVAN.”
Evan and Billy never met. They both say the other was not at the airport. I believe Evan because I am all-too familiar with Peruvian time-orientation and work ethic. Evan said he waited twenty minutes before going with an agency located in the airport. I was pissed and pulled the plug on the whole idea.
On the bright side, Evan was pretty cool about everything and apparently found what we was looking for in Lima from some non-working girls.
Anita
I never explained to my regular readers what happened with Anita since the Irish were in town. Anita was very generous in bed, but I didn’t like her. I didn’t have a phone so she would just come over to the apartment unannounced. Sometimes I wouldn’t be there and Beto would call me to tell me she had come over. She would either wait for me or leave.
I moved in late September. In admittedly cowardly fashion of breaking up, I never told her where I moved to. I just moved. She never had my email and I didn’t have a phone. Now she had nothing. The breakup just worked itself out naturally.
(WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT)
Excerpt from an email about Anita I sent to some friends (“Nasty Whore” dated 9/21/08):
One night early on she was on her period. She sucked my dick for like an hour. When I finally came, she didn’t suck it out. She just used her hand and the cum went all over my dick and waist and whatnot. While I reached for the roll of toilet paper on my nightstand, she scooped all the cum up with her hand and rubbed it on my dick like lotion. She then stroked it for twenty more minutes (after I came). It felt really good, like a mouth. She stroked it until it was dry, having rubbed all the cum back into my skin.
She licks my chode every time she blows me. She has spent up to a full minute down there.
One time during doggystyle she told me she wanted me to come in her mouth (no problem). I told her when I was about to come to suck real hard. She sucked it out and swallowed it all. Then she told me it tastes good.
She always strokes, sucks, and plays with my penis for a long time after I cum. One time she asked me how to say it in English. After I told her, she took it out of her mouth and said in a thick accent “I love your dick,” and put it back in her mouth. (I loav jore deek)
Last night, she was sucking it while I played with her vagina. She took my hand away from her vagina and sucked the juices off of all my fingers.
She has bought me dinner both times we have gone out to eat something. She has done the dishes twice, done my laundry once, cleaned my room once, and ironed two of my workshirts.
Milagros
I met Milagros a few weeks before Christmas. We had anal sex on the first night. We hung out the next weekend because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
We hung out both of the last two nights before I left for the States. Just before I caught a taxi to the airport, she gave me a Christmas present and told me not to open it until Christmas. I stuffed it in my bag. I opened it as soon as I arrived at my dad’s house sixteen hours later. A card, a picture of Arequipa, and a black alpaca fleece scarf. The card featured an image of a puppy and kitten cuddled next to each other with their heads tilted and touching. Very cute. The message inside finished with “Muchos besitos. ¡Te quiero mucho!”
I gave the scarf to a friend who wears scarves. I meant to bring the card back to Peru and post it on this blog (just the image, not the writing inside because that would be heartless), but I seem to have lost the card.
Scrawny Anorexic – a follow-up to Natural Weight
I weighed 225 when I moved to Peru. My weight dropped as low as 185. Since the break from basketball, I’m back up to 200. Back in America, I was ridiculed by my workout partners: George and John. I was called “anorexic” and “scrawny.”
John was always bigger than me but now weighs in at a lean 240. My last night on my Christmas vacation in the States, I could barely stretch my long arms around him for our goodbye-hug. When I used to work out with George before moving to Peru, I consistently lifted heavier weight for more reps. He decisively turned the tables on me when we worked out together. In my defense, George conceded that I am still strong. But not swole.
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Always a good read hehe. I found the holy grail a few weeks ago in Cusco, a threesome in the land of the incas hehe, and nothing better than some “indigenas” to really work a white guys manhood a splendid way to greet the new year and thank the andean gods for its generous bounty.