The first night I was in Cusco, relieved to be done with a long and dramatic travel and eager to unwind, I sat down for dinner at a cozy restaurant. Having acclimated a bit, glad to know the altitude wasn’t going to affect me so much, I was confident that I would settle into a nice few days. Eager for a good meal after a couple of dreary days consisting of sleeping on the airport floor and eating solely from vending machines, I glanced at the woman to my left to get an idea of what I could expect from my eagerly anticipated dinner. Oop! I knew it was a thing, but I was just caught off guard, and must have gazed for just long enough for her to notice that I was surprised to see an entire roasted guinea pig on her plate. Seeing an opportunity to entertain herself at my expense, she turned to me, lifted upright the guinea pig, moved its jaw with her hand like a morbid puppet and croaked in an unsettling voice “hellloooo” as she and her dining companion burst into laughter at my unease. The absurdity of it all crashed into me as we laughed together, then largely avoided eye contact for the rest of the evening. I think I loved her. I think I always will.