Another year, yet another South American country that begins with a 'P'. After a few hours suspended on sun + moon beams, we made it to the capital of the Incan nation. Rather than two years ago, our mission on this trip is to glorify God through playing volleyball and representing our country in maple leaf fashion.
Despite the promises that the Weather Network fed to us about sunshine and springtime, Lima is a cloud of grey and claustrophobia. Since we landed at night, our introduction was a taste of both fear and intrigue: street corners were riddled with features of both cacti and scantily clad women; police sirens were the streetlights of the night. During the day, however, Lima has a much cheerier side to her seemingly bipolar personality. The architecture is a mishmash of colonialism and nationalism, with Spanish flavours in the colours, semi-Parisian cafes, and Peruvian statues that line the streets with floating heroic heads.
Above the neighbourhood sits a thick cloud of smog that slowly chews away at the little nature left in the city. We are yet to see the ocean which is reportedly only 4 km from our hotel.
It's difficult to truly know Lima: right now she's a distant figure that we only meet through our car and hotel windows. Our volleyball quarters, however, are absolutely fantastic; complete with barbed wire fences and an unlimited number of turquoise courts. We cannot wait to step foot onto centre court and play beneath the flags of so many countries.