4. Javier, the opportunist

In El parque de la amistad, Friendship Park in the Surco district of Lima, I learned just how friendly the limeños can be.

There is a huge arch in the center of the park, covered in colorful mosaic tiles, around which wind a small river, a steam engine track and grassy areas you are not to step on as many little signs plainly state (No pisar el cesped).

School children from throughout the city visit this park, as do young lovers and perhaps the occasional tourist.

As for other gringos, I was the only I happened to see that day.

A trainful of fifth grade school children, all in uniforms, chugged by and waved, smiling.

I walked over to the Arch to take a look and try to get a picture. I noticed crosses on the top of both sides, and a police guard was standing nearby so I walked over, greeted him and asked a few questions about the arch.

I clearly had him stumped.

Instead, I was answered with, "You are French, ¿no?"

Why on Earth am I always asked that? Ecuador, Thailand, Japan...everyone thinks I'm French. "No, I am from the United States."

"But you speak Spanish so well." This conversation was, of course, in Spanish.

"Muchas gracias. Soy profesora de español."

"Ah, wow. You're a profa."

"Yes."

"Your eyes are green. So green."

I smiled. "Sometimes they change to blue. We United States girls can be that way."

His eyes grew very big. "Really?"

"Sure." I was ready to play a little with this cutie. I would place him at about mid 20's in age. A mere baby, really...ah, but oh so yummy.

"The arch opens at noon, in an hour."

"You can climb it?"

"Sure. How about I take you up there now."

So I followed him in, past the ticket booth and up the stairs. He insisted I go first. "Do you have children?"

"Yes, I have two, actually."

"YOU? No! Really? You do NOT look like it."

Okay, baby, keep it coming, I'm loving the attention. I did happen to be wearing my good jeans and my shorter t-shirt that showed that my jeans actually fit a bit too big at the hips and leaves my piko ring in plain view.

"Yep." Hmmm...didn't ask about my husband. Not that a wedding ring matters, but I always wear it when in South America.

"What's your name?" I told him mine. "And yours?"

"Javier."

Ajá. Just in the name so much was explained. I have known more than one very suave Javier in my life.

"You are so white. Your skin is beautiful."

I laughed. "In my country, it's summer and most would consider me tan now." Javier is extremely dark, a very beautiful mestizo heavy on indigenous color. And I am a sucker for dark eyes.

His hand gently guiding my lower back, a view I am most certain he greatly relished, we reached the top of the Arch when a fifth-grader ran to him and told him that one of the other students had descended down a blocked staircase. So Javier immediately turned all-business and, in a very police guard-like manner went down the stairs and fulfilled his duties by bringing the delinquent touring students back up the stairs.

I took advantage to get some photos from the top of the Arch then asked Javier to be in a photo with me.

An invitation he gladly accepted.

I was well aware of his left thumb caressing my skin on my waist as we posed atop the Arch of Friendship for the picture.

The children ended up providing my escape; they all wanted photos with the policeman as well, so I had them all gather round and got a picture of them with one of their cameras.

I approached to say goodbye and to thank Javier again for the private tour. He pulled me close and gave me a slow kiss on the cheek and embraced me before the sea of fifth graders in maroon uniforms took over his attentions.

At which point I managed to slip back down the stairs and away. Although a rendezvous in the stairway of the Arch would have made quite a story...well, it is the Arch of, um, Just Friends.