Returning from Huancayo

Why is it when you are trying to find a beer in a city it can not be found?

I don’t get it. I’m in a country that calls the Quarter Ponders “Royals” and apparently know less about Mexicans then we do because their “Mexicana” burger is a burger with nacho cheese Doritos on it.
You can buy beer from a Bembo’s, which is the Peruvian equivalent of McDonalds, though they are here too.
You can buy beer at KFC, and Pizza Hut, and if you really want to go big you can get wine there too. They have liquor mixed in with their ice cream, you can also get a shot on the side or many, if you so desire. Grandpa has his morning oatmeal with a glass of pineapple juice and rum.,,

But there are three of us mindlessly wondering the streets of Huancayo in search of a nice frothy beer, and non to be found. Why is that?
Well it might have been just as well because I was stepping on another seven hour bus ride to Huanta. Yes the same unpaved road. Oh the joy of this bus trip.

What a delightful bus ride it was too. I took the 8:30pm bus to Huanta because I wanted to get there as late in the morning as possible. But about three hours into the rid my bus pass the 8:00pm bus.
There I was in the middle of a bus race, on the edge of a cliff with the other bus honking it’s horn and flashing it’s lights for the next four hours.
I was sitting there trying to drown out the sound of the high revving motor of the bus I was in listening to Neil Young’s Harvest album as I looked out the window and saw a valley and river about a thousand feet below and had those thoughts once again.
“I’m going to plummet to my death tonight on some remote cliff in Peru”

I pulled into Huanta at 4:30 in the morning as I was listening to Curtis Mayfield’s “Pusher Man.” It was one of those stops were the bus stops for two minutes and if you are not off in that time you are riding another hour to the next town.
The bus was already in motion as I stepped off of it.

Walking through Huanta at four thirty in the morning is very interesting. As I walk through the town with a duffle bag full of a weeks worth of smelly clothes, that I was so looking forward of wash them by had that afternoon. And my backpack, containing my lap top.
Good morning six foot gravel pile blocking the road. Good morning prison. Good morning prison guard in the tower above me with his gun following my every move. Good morning, two guys in a pick up and the four others in the back that is now coming to a stop in front of me.
I throw on that sense that I so well developed during my stay in Lima. It’s kind of like the Spider Sense of Spiderman but instead of receiving bad vibes, it sends them. I began sending out vibes like, but not limited too; I’m going to gouge your eyes out, and break all your limbs in one swift move. Or the look of; don’t fuck with me look, that I think I might have perfected during my stay here in Peru. Because those guys decided that they would be better off driving away then messing with this very agitated Green-go.

Once I got to my room I hit my bed with a thud.