Two months before I flew over the Amazon’s twisting tails and into Lima’s cloudy fortress, I watched Castaway. Had I not just written covering letter number 77 the night’s viewing schedule would have faded into obscurity. As it was, I was an English graduate earning £6.50 an hour 18 months after throwing a mortarboard into the air. Therefore, when Tom Hanks closed Castaway with the words; ‘And tomorrow the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide could bring’. I felt particularly moved.
Several days later I received the graduate’s equivalent to a golden ticket:
CONGRATULATIONS: You have been selected
(An email I expected about as much as Chuck expected a toilet screen).
Before this mutates into a ‘thegraduatejobmarketissotough‘ blog post, I’m fast forwarding two months: now i’m sat in a Peruvian apartment, i’ve just turned 25 twice in 7 hours. (The condition of my travelling companion, (Perdita- the stuffed Dalmatian) corroborates my sister’s assertion that this makes me ‘old’.) Outside my window is a city that is ringing with the fart of well used horns, coloured by the 24 hour stationary stores and peopled with Peruvian’s enough to avert a Kenedy Park cat takeover. And somewhere beyond the folds of Lima’s duvet; there’s a country as sprawling and diverse as the city that leads it. …
It seems apt that my second quarter century begins with my first ‘grown up’ job: that it’s located in a place where you can surf with Pelican’s promises that the forthcoming 25 years will be just as fun as the last.
Thank-you Paddington. Thank-you Plymouth.