Between a rock and a hard place

About a month ago, 7 teachers and I went to Huaraz for Semana Santa Break.

One of the best parts about the trip was that after finding this book

many of us attempted to speak in cliches for the rest of the trip. I am as dull as dishwater when it comes to thinking of great lines on the spot, so I missed out on much cliche fun.

At one point in our travels on mountainous roads, our van screeched to a halt behind a row of cars.

Two friends and I jumped at the chance of a possible adventure and asked our driver if we could get out and see what all the fuss was about. He knuckled under and so we went on our merry way.

After a walk we heard manly yells in unison and then saw this:

It was a rock as big as a whale which had rolled out into the middle of the road. The guys did get it enough out of the way that cars could pass. But then that meant we would need to high tail it out of there because now cars were coming. My two friends with me went to the left side of the rock. "They are blocking traffic that way!" I thought, "and there's more than one way to skin a cuy"

(yes we did witness this)

So I decided I would need to walk around the rock. I went on the wrong side of the rock and sunk down all the way down to my knees. It was as clear as mud that I had made a mistake.

It looked worse in real life. But there was no point in crying over spilled milk. I decided to grin and bear it, rolling up half the mud into my capris and washing the other half the mud out at the side of the road.

As luck would have it, a huge truck transporting produce was sitting right next to me the whole time and on top of the truck were a ton of Peruvians who got a kick out of me. "Mira la gringa!/Look at the gringa!" they shouted, pointing and laughing till they cried.

Soon my van pulled up and I beat a hasty retreat.

Moral of the story: Rolling stones gather no moss but they might gather mud.