1. Away we go to Ghana

The plane ride to the layover in Atlanta was punctuated by the airplane dropping in mid-air. My passport, which was tucked into the pages of a book I was reading, disappeared and was found under a neighbor's seat. People screamed. I thought it was the end. The plane was from the 1950s- had all of us died, our souls might have become trapped in some sort of time warp. Arriving at the Atlanta airport, I was whisked away to zone E by the trains running throughout the airport, where I gorged myself on vegetable soup, fruit salad, and a tasty looking Caesar salad (which looked good in the display, covered in the Parm cheese, but when I got to it the lettuce was brown so I didn't eat it). Sitting at gate E2, a creeper came up and started talking to me. Even responding in one word syllables didn't stop his endless tirade about the slave trade and how interesting it was. While waiting for a flight. Full of Africans. Then he started talking loudly about Obama and how Africans love him, how he didn't vote for him, and he likes to visit old plantations in Georgia.

Side Note:
Creeper is mine and Katie's word for creepy old men. It can apply to younger men as well, but generally the older variety.

Texting to Katie during said conversation:
DANI: No first class :( at least I am on the aisle seat. This guy keeps talking to me and it's creepy.
KATIE: that is sad. make up a language and only speak in that, no english.
DANI: Haha KATIE: tell him you're an alien!!
DANI: I don't think that will work unless I pull out a laser gun and take first class by force.
KATIE: oh, well i meant to ward off the creepy guy, but i also think that is a good idea.
KATIE: do you have anything that looks like a laser gun?
KATIE: did you bite his hand?
DANI: I should have!
KATIE: stupid flight! maybe you can sleep
DANI: I hope so, the plane from dc to Atlanta was 100 years old, and there's a crying baby
KATIE: ew. i bet it'll be newer. smother the baby
DANI: heh
KATIE: i am full of this sort of practical advice

I hopped on the red eye(s) to Ghana, an 11 and 1/2 hour flight. I tried to bump myself up to first class, asking if it was possible to upgrade, but the woman at the desk told me it would be anywhere from $1,000 to $12,000. I told her I'd giver her $50. The ride in coach wasn't too bad for 11 hours- I actually ended up sleeping for quite a bit of it.

I gorged myself in Atlanta so I wouldn't have to eat the airplane food, but to my surprise there was a midnight snack bar with Milano cookies, small turkey sandwiches, yogurt, bananas, and orange juice. Also, there was no one sitting next to me, and sitting in a row of 3 seats, a really cool guy named Ed sat on the opposite end. His wife was supposed to be sitting there, but cancelled at the last minute. He works for a company called the Rafiki Foundation, and had been living in Africa for the past 10 years. Rafiki means 'friend' in Swahili.

http://www.rafiki-foundation.org/

When I arrived at the Ghana airport in Accra (pronounced acraw) the air was humid and hot, and there was a haze over everything, but a strong wind blowing in from the water. A bus picked us up and drove for about 29 feet where it dropped us off in a small open air room where I went through customs, and there was no one waiting for me with a sign as promised. I ended up taking a taxi (recommended by a guy at the airport who kept trying to take my bag, and when I finally let him carry it the last 5 feet to the car, he wanted a tip) to the Congress Hotel.

When I arrived, a guy walked in and told me he was he driver who was supposed to pick me up at the airport, He had a wide toothy grin. I said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. Were you there waiting for me?" He turned to look at me with the same toothy grin. "No" he said, and promptly began asking me if this was my first time in Africa. African time- what can you do.

As soon as I got unpacked, I took a taxi to the IFPRI office that is just down the street. I meet everyone, went over what was going to happen the rest of the week, and with evening creeping on, walked down the street to hail a cab. As soon as several kids from a small street stand saw me, the ran out to touch my arm and ran back grinning. Adam (who will be driving me around tomorrow to take some video) told me I would stand out being white, so in some spots he might have to take photos instead because it would be too conspicuous. Also, when I told the guy in charge of the IFPRI office I needed B-Roll of migrating birds, he told me there are bats that fly out near the hospital every night that look like birds.

Time for a shower.

día nueve

as we had to get up at 230am, we'd gone to bed at 630pm after scarfing down some candy bars and packing our things. when the alarm went off, we rolled out of bed, grabbed our pre-packed bags, and caught a taxi to the airport. surprisingly, there were loads of people already inside. after yesterday, we were expecting the worst, but made it through check in and security with no problems.

after this follows a lot of boring-ness about our flight to bogota, and the harried dash to catch our connecting flight to dc (including another security check in which we were frisked - i guess the us isn't taking many chances when it comes to international flights, although really, it's getting to be a bit much).

6 long hours later, we arrived in dc. we were met by an enormous line to get through customs, but the second our passports were stamped, we made a break for it. we practically ran out of the airport and onto a shuttle bus, which took us to the focus (jym) who was patiently waiting in the green lot. dani called rod, who in turn ordered us a pizza, and we drove merrily away from dc - breathing in the fully oxygenated, crisp fall air, excited to be home.

el fin.

sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

día ocho

day of horrors (and whining).

we woke up just before six (am) to grab some breakfast and catch a ride to the aeropuerto with ronaldo. we had decided it was perhaps the coca tea that was making us feel slightly sick, so we opted for cafe con leche instead.

we were anxious to leave cusco and arrive in lima, as we were hoping to speak with the avianca counter and switch our flight to dc. we were currently scheduled to leave early sunday morning, but wanted to catch a flight saturday (today) instead, as dani had just found out she was to leave for ghana on tuesday for work.

as we had printed our boarding passes from the taca office in cusco the day before, ronaldo told us we could go straight upstairs to our gate, even though our flight was not yet being shown on any of the television monitors. just to be safe, we double checked with a security person, who told us the same thing. once upstairs and through security, we asked around to see which gate was the taca gate, but no one had any idea.

we settled down in front of the most beautiful alpaca ever:

after about an hour of waiting, with ten minutes before we were set to be boarding, we realized something had to be wrong - there was no one around, and no gate had yet been announced. we asked someone from the security checkpoint, who then got in touch with someone else, and we were instructed that the taca gate was downstairs. we looked at each other in disbelief: no one could have told us that an hour before?

but oh, it gets worse.

we then went downstairs and spoke with a woman who was posted at the door for the downstairs gates. she told us we were in the wrong place, and to go back upstairs. when we protested and told her we'd been upstairs for the last hour, and they'd sent us down here, she handed us off to a security guard, who consulted his walkie-talkie, and then told us to go to information. information hadn't the slightest idea what to do, and told us to get in the taca line. at this point, we were supposed to be boarding, and we hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. we asked someone who worked for taca, who informed us our flight was delayed until 1230, and put us in the 'ejecutivos' line, where we waited approximately forever only to be waited on by a horrid man who was completely unhelpful. by this point, we'd missed all other, earlier, flights we could have taken because no one had been able to tell us our flight had been delayed.

we then had to go back upstairs and back through security (where we'd already passed through with flying colors), only to have a man with a giant stick up his bum tell us that we could not take caribeeners through because we might take them off, put them on a fist, and punch someone in the face. we could only stare at him incredulously. we were also not allowed to take a gift for our brother through (to be fair, it was a flail - but we were pretty angry because we'd been allowed through with it the first time, so why not the second? way to be consistent, security).

we collapsed into seats near our supposed gate. katie had a cerveza (at 8am) out of sheer frustration. we passed the next five hours grumbling about peru and the creepy old men that went out of their way to sit next to us and try to impress us.

we were completely disgusted with the whole experience.

(this is for you, taca airlines)

we finally made it back to lima, where a woman from hotel espana had been waiting patiently for us for hours because ronaldo had neglected to call and tell them we were going to try and change our flight. we went on an adventure to find chinatown - and we did find it, after a long trek, only to discover there were absolutely no chinese people there. we were so pleased to be sitting down, however, and have some real food, we didn't even care it was the weirdest chinatown we've ever been in.

we shoveled down some vegetable fried rice


and hoofed it back to the hotel, where we packed up our things, stocked up on candy bars, and went to bed early.

sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

día siete

ah, our last day in cusco. we slept in, lazed about like worms, and met twan for lunch at a great place called 'the muse'.


the muse offered gorgeous fresh juices, properly sterilized fruits and veggies, and a whole array of vegetarian options. oh, and dominos, which was fun.

we spent the rest of the afternoon lurking in our room, packing our bags, drinking tea, and having yet another microwave popcorn/candy bar dinner, before going to bed early.

sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

día seis

we slept in this morning. dani woke up around 730, showered, and went downstairs to begin dos señorita-ing. katie woke up just after 9am, and joined the festivities after a shower. we went back to the small print shop where we´d uploaded our pictures to a usb stick previously - only this time, the owner was busy so we did it ourselves.

we then went back to ´comida vegetariana´and had another delicious breakfast of spaghetti bolognese (meat free!), garlic bread, freshly squeezed orange juice and coca tea.

we did some more blog work, then went upstairs for a nap. we emerged from our room round 3pm, and spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening señorita-ing.

at 8pm, we were supposed to meet gary, karen, and twan for dinner and drinks at a local restaurant called mr. bean. for whatever reason, we couldn´t remember the name - dani kept calling it mean bean, and katie referred to it as something else ... but we´re too tired to remember what now.


we arrived at the fountain in the main plaza just after 8, to find twan waiting for us. we waited around for gary and karen for the next 25 minutes, but they didn't show, so we headed off to find dinner. the restaurant was off an alley known as 'drug alley', and sure enough, we were offered both weed and 'la cocaina'. we managed to fend the drug dealers off and spent the next couple hours laughing over dinner with twan and having a drink or two. poor twan was hoping to go out drinking, but we were too exhausted to even consider the idea. we bid him a fond goodnight, and arranged to meet him for lunch the following day.



sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

día cinco

we got up at 338am. since gary and karen didn´t have an alarm, katie went downstairs with a flashlight to wake them up. poor twan, sharing a room with two ladies, didn´t get a chance in the bathroom until five minutes before we had to leave, mostly because a certain weasel (no names) decided to wait till the morning to take a shower. we started out, at four am, walking down a dark path outside agua calientes (good thing dani brought a flashlight) in the jungle. our only directions were to walk down the bus route and take a left at a bridge at some point. it was great fun. when then came to a giant group of other backpackers waiting at a gated bridge that wouldn´t open for another 45 minutes. the night before, the guide had provided little bagged breakfasts for everyone - twan decided it was a good time to eat his entire breakfast. once the bridge opened, we poured across and found ourselves at the bottom of the path that led up the mountain. we were a little worried about bottle-necking, but it soon became apparent that climbing a set of stone steps up the side of a moutain tends to thin the group out a bit. sadly, we had to leave gary and karen behind, and were subsequently abandoned by twan and his culca canyon legs. an hour later, we staggered up the last steps and found ourselves at the entrance to machu picchu. once inside, we met our guide and the rest of our tour group, and the whole of machu picchu was revealed in the sunrise that was just breaking over the tops of the surrounding moutains.

after machu picchu, we arrived back in agua calientes to get lunch ... twan´s choice of chinese/mexican.*

*chexican.

we were all so tired, we stopped by the previous night´s hostel with said mean woman and asked if we could stay for a couple of hours and sleep, but at the price of 50 sols, we left and went to an internet cafe, where we spent the remainder of our afternoon listening to twan dutch on skype and dos señorita-ing. the train ride back was festive. we´d accidentally booked a first class train, and it was filled with well-to-do americans and south american business (or rather, just one, who was creepy and decided to swtich seats and sit across from katie and try to make weird conversation). dani went to sleep and somehow slept through this:

and then woke up for the fashion show:

once arrived at the station, we shared a taxi back to cusco with a girl who is traveling for the next eight months, lucky dog. we were starving, but barely able to function and didn´t want to waste energy on going out to dinner.

Día Cuatro, Día Peligroso

a mini bus picked us up at our hostel for our two day machu picchu tour at 730. we then picked up the remainder of our tour group - another 9 people - around cusco. our last pickup was twan, who was running late because he´d been sitting on the wrong tour bus (the 4 day jungle trek bus) for half an hour before someone had asked him why he didn´t have more gear, as all he was carrying was a small man purse. we also met karen and gary, an irish couple who had quit their jobs to travel for a year. it started out innocently enough, even though our driver seemed to be 15 years old and didn´t speak a word of english (fair enough, except ronaldo (bastardo) had promised that our guide would answer any questions we had, as he hadn´t told us a single thing about the trip).

after we left the crowded streets of cusco, it became apparent our driver was either a) was on la cocaina or b) the accelerator was permanently broken, stuck on 130km per hour (much like the broken speedometer, which hovered around 0km per hour ... and the seatbelts, which were not only broken, but non-existent).

at least for the first two hours, we were on paved roads, at least until we passed a major accident. a mini bus had collided into a larger tour bus, and the mini bus was demolished in the front, and there was blood everywhere. we later found out two peruvian tourists (a 16 and a 17 year old) had died in the collision. the driver slowed down for a little bit afterwards, but after about 15 minutes, we realized it was short lived. he was flying down the road so fast, he wasn´t able to stay in his own lane, and we were rounding sharp curves in the oncoming traffic lane with no visibility and no guard rail. even that was okay, until ...

we suddenly stopped, with no explanation, behind a huge line of traffic where people were milling around, and peruvian women were selling drinks and snacks.

since our driver had just disappared, we found out (by asking around) that this particular road was being worked on, and was only open for one hour every day. we figured this explained why he had driven so fast, so he wouldn´t miss the opening, otherwise we would have had to wait until the next day to get through. when it opened, twenty minute later, there were construction workers holding ´slow´ signs, so we expected, as in the states, once you pass the last one, you merge back onto paved roads. stupid gringos. the roads were all dirt, with curves so sharp they were almost u-turns, indispersed with short stretches of straightaway. not to mention - we were high up in the andes, and in the places there were guardrails, they were only placed on the very sharpest part of the curve. usually, the guardrails were only several feet long (and crumpled, which was reassuring), and




in many parts, only stones marked the edge, as parts of the road had collapsed due to landslides. speaking of landslides, we were actually stopped at the edge of one for many minutes, while construction workers removed the rubble from the most recent one. it was horrifying getting to the next stretch of road on the adjacent mountain, as you could see the road you were on, indeed, the entire mountain, was one giant landslide waiting to happen.
side note: it seems the incas were very smart, as they built machu picchu on a mountain of solid rock, as opposed to these sand hills that are 3000 feet above sea level.

we started counting landslides after a giant rock bounced off the roof of the bus, and passed through the remains at least ten - and in places, the road was still thick with rubble left over from previous slides. we thought the terror was over as we entered a small town, but as we exited the town, we realized the real road to machu picchu was beginning.

the horrors.

we careened around sharp turns, literally on the edge of the cliff, overlooking a giant valley thousands of feet below. at one point, the bus in front of us began spinning wheels, not able to make it around a hairpin turn with a steep incline.

there was a momentary silence in the van as we tried to figure out what was going on, then our driver threw the van into reverse. the bus shifted from side to side, bouncing up and down, as the tires tried to grip the dusty, pebbly path. the bus slid from its relative safety of three inches from the edge of the cliff to a mere one. the passengers erupted into screams and shouts in spanish. the brazilian group in the back shouted in spanish to be let off the bus so they could walk. everyone instinctively threw their weight to the right side of the bus, grabbing onto any sort of handhold they could find, even preparing to throw open the door.

we arrived in santa theresa for our promised lunch, where our driver (for the first time) turned and addressed us in spanish. we figured out he was telling us we had 40 minutes for lunch, and then we would drive for an additional 40 minutes to arrive at the hydroelectric, which we would catch to the town of agua calientes. we were all starving, as it was approximately 3pm, so it was a welcome break. as we attempted to step out of the bus, a man (apparently a friend of the driver, as he was another 15 year old wielding a cell phone) shoved his way into the bus, slammed the door, and we began moving again. lunch?

as we veered off onto another road, it began raining. while we were excited about this, because the roads thus far had been extremely dusty, forcing us to keep our windows closed, it created a new problem: mud and the possibility of a flash flood, as we were now following alongside a giant river filled with giant, smooth stones, and most likely, pirhanas. luckily, we were much closer to the bottom of the valley, and were therefore much less likely to tumble off the side of the cliff.

we finally arrived at a tiny train station, where a man (our guide for the remainder of our stay in machu picchu, although we didn´t yet know it) met us. we had two options - hike two hours to agua calientes, or take the hydroelectric. as our legs were still jelly from the hideous bus ride, we all opted to take the train. unfortunately, only twan and ourselves had train tickets, although the other people on our tour had purchased them. everything was mixed up, everyone was confused, and the guide refused to answer any questions. if someone asked him something, he would turn away. we finally got our tickets - although dated for the next day - and found seats on the train. our guide had promised us there would be food on the train, but 15 minutes later, it became apparent he´d lied. dani was bitter and contemplated eating the seat.

the ride into agua calientes took only half an hour, and once arrived, we decided we were going to take the train back to cusco rather than get into our deathtrap of a bus again. we were then taken to our hostel, where a mean woman tried shoving five of us into one room with only one bathroom. this was dani´s breaking point. she turned to the woman and incredulously asked ¨cinco personas? uno baño? no. no. no. no. no.¨ the woman finally got the message, and we were split into two groups - karen and gary in one room, ourselves and twan in another.

we then went downstairs for our promised dinner. we were ravenous, having missed our promised lunch, and couldn´t wait to eat. we were given a menu, and told we could choose one soup and one main course. as the woman (the same mean woman who´d delegated our rooms) came to take our orders, we realized that although we had been given an entire menu, we were only allowed to have one or two things off it. we realized later that it was because there weren´t many of us, and the kitchen didn´t want to prepare many different meals, it was hoping to prepare larger quantities of just a few.

side note (katie): i ordered corn soup. the woman came around with the chicken soup first, and it turns out she´d made an extra one, so she took it back to the kitchen. then the corn and vegetable soups came, all except for mine. after a few moments, i asked her where it was, and she went back to the kitchen and brought back the chicken soup she´d orginally come out with, the extra order. with the help of a brazilian woman in the group, we explained i was a vegetarian. the woman didn´t understand, and even told me the soup was okay ¨because it didn´t have any chicken pieces floating in it.¨ it was so ridiculous we had to laugh, and she took the soup away. ages later, she came back and placed a bowl of soup in front of me. it was hot, but ... still chicken.

still starving, we went foraging. dani and twan bought a pizza with championes (mushrooms, apparently the same word in dutch ... or so twan says, the dirty sletje). we then wandered to the main plaza where we sat on a stone ledge near a fountain and ate the pizza, which consisted of no tomato sauce and dirty tasting cheese. even twan, who we´ve realized eats just about anything, didn´t finish the pizza.

the guide was supposed to meet us at the hostel at 830 to explain the next day, and we had a couple hours left before that, so we found a nearby bar with a happy hour and balcony (four drinks for twenty sols!)


katie went back to the hostel at 830 to meet with the rest of the group, with promises to report back, while dani and twan stayed behind at the bar to take full advantage of the happy hour.*

*a decision dani would regret the next day, having to get up at 338am.


























back at the hostel, katie spoke with the remainder of the group. when the guide finally showed up, around 9pm, he told the group that this had been our bus driver´s first trip to machu picchu, and he had never driven the route before.

sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

Día Tres

There is nothing more enjoyable than sleeping late. We went to breakfast at Cafe Vegetariana where we consumed pancakes drizzled with honey, freshy squeezed orange juice, museli with fresh strawberries, grapes, and puffed grains, yogurt with honey, toast and jam, and Katie ate an omelette - said omelette from día uno.

We wandered around little shops, getting our pictures copied onto our hard drive for 8 sols pronounced (soul a´s), buying sunscreen and Alpaca postcards (for Katie) and wandering though the litle shops and markets in Cusco. We bargained a necklace down from 160 sols to 60 (30 USD), and picked up some earrings that were solid gold. Since they were only 12 USD, we were inclined to doubt it.























We stopped at a little chocolate shop to have their hot chocolate house special, and sample their small chocolates, including a spicy berry chocolate and creme de leche. It was delicious, and it was lunch.

We picked up some artwork from a little local shop, using our limited Spanish to buy several paintings from local artists. At that point, feeling sick from having a chocolate lunch and consuming unwashed fruit and potentially pathogen-infused water, we decided to find a nice place for dinner.

We wandered around the main square, and found a little wine bar in which the seats were all sofas and armchairs, candles were lit, and spicy music was playing. Here we met Eduardo, who worked there. Even though he hardly spoke a word of English, and we only possess broken Spanish, we were able to converse for hours. He told us about a project he is working on, how there are a lot of problems in Cusco and in most Peruvian cities. Apparently the native language, Ketchwa, is being lost, and there are problems with malnutrition. He would like to start an internship program so kids can have a better future. Really cool guy. Facebooked.

















sus amigas,

daniela y katerina

Dia Dos

When we bought our tickets to fly to Cusco, we asked for a 8:30 flight, so our hostel booked us a 5:40 AM flight. Half dead we dragged ourselves to the airport, where we then found ourselves next in line, only to be abandoned by the people working at the ticket counter. 30 minutes later (20 minutes before our flight) we found out the computers had crashed. We were given hand written boarding passes, where we then sprinted through the airport wearing our enormous backpacks, Katie running like a duck. There weren´t alot of foreigners in the airport, but there was another American* who gave us dead face when we attempted to be friendly. Oh well.

*Generally, you can always tell who the Americans are.




The muffin on the airplane tasted like fish. Apparently, the chickens in Peru are fed on fish guts, and all the eggs taste like fish.

Side Note: The next day an omlette was eaten and it tasted fine.

Arriving in Cusco, we were picked up by ´Ronaldo´. He bustled us to our hostel, sat us down with Coca tea for the altitude, and presented us with tour packages. It was 7 AM. Bewildered and sleep deprived, like asses, we accepted 2 tour packages - one tour package for the day, starting in 1 hour to hike around Inca ruins and market places, and another 4 day and 3 night jungle trek beginning at 7:30 AM the next day. We also pre-booked our hotel room until our flight back to Lima on Saturday.

Side Note:
As Ronaldo led Dani to the ATM to withdraw money for the tours, he told her that women walk on the right side of the men. Which was weird, until he said it was so he was closest to the traffic. The Peruvian men here are so polite.

After rushed cold showers, we picked up the bus where the same glassy eyed American we had seen in the airport was sitting in the backseat. This time he responded to our dialogue. His name is Ross, and he was traveling on leave from a military base in Lima. We became friends.

We stopped at several markets in little towns, where we found the locals willing to bargain over handmade goods. There were always at least 3 final prices, always at a special price for you my friend. We didn´t stop to go to the bathroom for hours, and finally the driver randomly stopped on the side of the road. Ross leaped from his seat to run off the bus exclaiming 'I have to take a piss', to which a Peruvian woman in the back commented, 'only a gringo'. Dani then tried to use her limted Spanish to tell the ladies how lucky they were to have such polite Peruvian men.

What was actually said: Mujeres fuentes tener hombres Peruvian.
Meaning: Women went to have Peruvian men.

We stopped for lunch and had a disgusting buffet. Everyone told us how good the food in Peru is, but so far we haven't seen it. There were only 2 or 3 things that were actually edible, and we were forced to stop for provisions at a local mini mart; provisions meaning dry crackers and water.

We then arrived at another Incan ruin up a stone street, where there was a little market at the base of the mountains. We had decided not to take the altitude sickness pills, so after we started up the side of the mountain embarking on a 2,000 stair walk, we became so out of breath after the first 20 steps we decided to head back down and have some tea at a little shop in the marketplace.


Side Note:
Apparently, the altitude sickness pills add acid to your blood. Probably not the best thing to consume.

We then embarked on another several hour bus ride that ended in another stop at an old church: it was freezing out. Ross bought a blanket from one of the vendors on the side of the street and wore it as a cape, and shared it with us in the church. He was very proud of his bargaining skills.

We finally arrived back in Cusco after 8 PM, exhausted, dirty, and thoroughly unable to trek for 4 days in the jungle, after not having any time to adjust to the altitude (as cool as that might have been). We went to our hostel, called Ronaldo, and asked if it would be possible to change to a 2 day 1 night tour instead. He then informed us we could, but we wouldn´t get any money back, even though the 2 day tour was much cheaper- the reason being the food was already bought for the trip. We knew it was garbage, but what could we do. Barfing in the jungle wasn't an option.

We met Ross for dinner at a local restaurant in the main plaza. Again, the food wasn´t stellar but we were too hungry to care- a familiar mantra to come. On the way back, we passed a restaurant that served Cuy (guinea pig), decorated with orange chiles where his ears should have been- a mini diablo. We asked the waiter why the cuy had horns, and he didn´t seem to know we were joking. He very calmy explained that they weren´t horns, they were peppers, and you eat them.

sus amigas, daniela y katerina