Peru

1989 -- The first time that we went to Peru it was a joyous occasion, and my brother and I made many friends. The second time … it was not so joyous. My mother's sister had died, and we were there to tidy up legal matters and the like, though I don't know anything about them. They were taken into hand by my mother, who didn't take me into confidence, nor have I asked to this day.

Meeting our extended family for the first time was … interesting. There was all of the usual little feuds that we had to bear in mind, but, as children, they didn't affect us as much as they did our parents. We instead made friends with the other children in the street of my mother's house and our younger cousins. I had a crush on my older cousin Manuel for a while, mainly because he was one of the few who paid attention to myself and my brother, and played with us sometimes.

My aunt Julia was crippled, which was responsible in a way for her death. I never was told how she became crippled—asking got me the answer that she "fell down the stairs". A little detective-work gave me the accurate information that she jumped off the roof—not enough to do her damage except cripple her for the while that she healed. She died in a hit-and-run while we were in Venezuela, related to her political ideologies, which were not all that popular with certain groups.

There was a food shortage while we were there, and had to queue up for bread and other staples very early in the morning. I did that a few times; getting up at ridiculous hours of the morning to stand in the cold for an hour or more. It was only curiosity that prompted me to do it the first time. I was asked to do shopping—it was in Peru that for the first time I bought something. I remember being deathly scared of doing it, but I managed and ran home, triumphant.