Doing her small part to shove the stupid needle on the Peru highways more toward the left,
and in case I'm arrested for driving in my pajamas (see previous entry), Paula also decided to obtain a Peruvian driver's license. This ranks up there with other easy undertakings, such as:
or that guy that had to roll the rock up the hill,
or maybe erasing the national debt.
However, ever the optimist, she set out to get it done. Off to License Land! Those bright signs hiding broken dreams, those smiling faces wanting to rent you a teeny car, those... oh, never mind.
By the end of the next four months, we could drive the road to License Land with our eyes closed, which, by the way, is how everyone else drives in Peru.
Remembering my struggles to pass the driving part of the test, she practiced at the 'driving school.'
We waited in what became known in the family as "The Pit of Despair" to take the test.
She practiced some more.
By now, License Land was getting kind of old.
After much frustration, and with the smiles on the nice 'driving school' instructors getting a little tired, she once more put down some cash and practiced again.
Somehow, and we're not sure how, and we really don't care how and maybe we don't want to know how,
In Paula's defense, on the third try, she didn't touch any lines, she remembered to turn on her flashers when backing up, just like every Peruvian driver never does, and honestly made no mistakes.
So, after four months, passing the written test twice, practicing for hours in back lot 'driving schools,' and after twenty trips of some sort to License Land, she is now a licensed driver in Peru!
She says the whole Middle East peace thing is going to be a cinch.
We hope that you never have to get a driver's license in Huancayo, Peru. Or drive there, for that matter.
Dave & Paula