Peru 4 -Toilet paper is Gold and Surfing Krishnas

Oct 8, 2011, 7:48pm, Eco Truly Park, Peru

Yesterday I asked Pancho to let me know where the toilet paper is stored, so I don't have to bother him every time we run out (which is often – double rolls don't exist here and Peruvian single rolls are about 7/11 the size of North American). He replies, no, for such paper is under lock and key and only I have the key. Yes, toilet paper is a hot commodity here (all over South America I'm told) – if it is attached with anything less than a Kryptonite bike lock then it will vanish. So isn't there a lot of wood in the Amazon rainforest for making toilet paper? ;) My honey-pushing dreams morph into ocean containers filled with toilet paper, landing them in the middle of Peruvian ports and opening the doors wide to watch the tide of humanity deprived of Charmin and Scott-o-so-Soft come screaming down the dirt roads to grab it. Forget yoga, bottled water and save-the-rain-forest NGOs – toilet paper is where its at.
Speaking of commodities in short supply, I notice fresh bars of soap in our composting toilet bathrooms - wow – better than Christmas – I feel suddenly rich and giddy with luxuries – for there never has been any soap anywhere. Why the soap? Well, its Saturday today, and there are many tourist groups coming thru for the tour of our little community, so the place is spruced up to impress the visitors will illusions of soap. What would Krishna say about this devious practice?
For a second day in a row, we paint the trulys at the ashram – the ashram is the building at the far end of the community, where the Krishnas sleep. Up a homemade wooden ladder with steps too far apart for anyone under 6' (ie anyone from South America) I apply black paint to round stones that outline spiritual symbols. The stones - about small melon in size - are half sunken in the walls and some of them look like Nubian breasts – I caress them gently with my 1” artist brush. Yes, I miss Annie – she is too far away so I have these odd fantasies in a Krishna centre. “Tu eres una surfista???” a little girl yells up at me and brings me back to another reality. I look down – a well-dressed Peruvian family that have finished the tour are exploring the grounds and their little girl is pointing to a surfboard resting on the bathroom wall behind us. ”Yo no, pero el otro Krishnas...” I fluently speak to them (haha – joke). But as they leave, the old guy says “Hare Krishna” to me. If only he knew..... :)