From the longest flight to the slowest and boring-est CoP ever.
From 4 years of being a sleep-deprived pinky and to the comforts [and limitations] of a yellow badge.
The drums rolled when I walked into the grounds of the Cuartel General del Ejercito del Peru [aka Pentagonito], not because of my arrival, but to herald the sad reality that I have lost the the right to the informal informals, temporarily, and by choice.
That justified two shots of a Pisco Sour in the middle of the first day, until the Bearded One came and assured me that we were in fact two pinkies who have gone yellow.
Also temporarily.
Also by choice.
An accidental pansit [i.e. Thai salad with fried noodles, orange wedges, and sesame-coated chicken strips or something like that] from a restaurant along Avenida Diez Canseco made up for this lost week, and perhaps more when things pick up in the second week as negotiators jump from the tranquility of a wait-and-see into the tumult of a coffee-powered do-or-die last two days [why it it always like that?].
But then, there were walls torn down and the realization that colors don't really matter [only the work load] plus a team that stayed united and the company of friends who never left as a fusion dinner of adobo, kaldereta, chifa, salad green, and penne vanished with the wine and Cusquena Lager before the short sweet walk from Paseo de la Republica to the Hotel Los Girasoles.
From 4 years of being a sleep-deprived pinky and to the comforts [and limitations] of a yellow badge.
The drums rolled when I walked into the grounds of the Cuartel General del Ejercito del Peru [aka Pentagonito], not because of my arrival, but to herald the sad reality that I have lost the the right to the informal informals, temporarily, and by choice.
That justified two shots of a Pisco Sour in the middle of the first day, until the Bearded One came and assured me that we were in fact two pinkies who have gone yellow.
Also temporarily.
Also by choice.
An accidental pansit [i.e. Thai salad with fried noodles, orange wedges, and sesame-coated chicken strips or something like that] from a restaurant along Avenida Diez Canseco made up for this lost week, and perhaps more when things pick up in the second week as negotiators jump from the tranquility of a wait-and-see into the tumult of a coffee-powered do-or-die last two days [why it it always like that?].
But then, there were walls torn down and the realization that colors don't really matter [only the work load] plus a team that stayed united and the company of friends who never left as a fusion dinner of adobo, kaldereta, chifa, salad green, and penne vanished with the wine and Cusquena Lager before the short sweet walk from Paseo de la Republica to the Hotel Los Girasoles.
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