Being Peruvian-American, arriving in Peru for the first time in twelve years was a powerful experience.

When I arrived here during spring break in October, seeing the landscape from the airplane, a fullness entered my chest, the same feeling I�ve experienced upon returning home after weeks at college.

It�s crazy that I felt that sense of homecoming, because Peru has never been my home. All I knew of the country at the time were photos, a long past family vacation, fragments of memories that my parents told me, and whatever else I could piece together from my relatives� experiences in the States. I also had whatever my family had been able to bring to rural Pennsylvania, whether that was food, music or whatever else, but I�d never been able to touch Peru itself.

So to drive by the oil refinery on the outskirts of Lima, seeing people living in abject poverty in shacks among the dirt, was to experience a sobering shock I�d never expected. Peru had before been an amorphous concept, but there I could plainly see a veritable face of the country. And it disgusted me.

Although the barrios of Miraflores and Barranco in Lima are beautiful (among the more developed areas of the city), I also saw other parts of Lima that existed in depressing disrepair: Ramshackle affairs of houses thrown together in a hell of urban sprawl. Life-threatening traffic on every street. Kids selling candy and doing cartwheels at traffic lights to earn money.

Since arriving here in late November, now my third visit to Peru, I�ve had the opportunity to visit Cusco, Lake Titicaca, Puno, Arequipa, Ica and Huacachina, and my perspective has developed substantially.

To be honest, I was shaken by Cusco and the floating islands of Lake Titicaca. The rampant tourism there — seeing suppliant Peruvians practically begging to sell their wares at every possible moment — made me feel embarrassed.

Was this really Peru? I didn�t want to believe it. I saw nothing of the self-sufficiency of Buenos Aires. It seemed Peruvians were a somehow a subservient people that went about perpetually on their knees. I know it�s terrible to think so demeaningly, but the number of citizens with this sort of foreigner-centered mentality far outnumbered those of any other disposition. The people of the floating islands even sang a song and danced about, like circus clowns, for us tourists.

But arriving in the city of Puno, I finally saw a different face of Peru.

Sam and I were just two annoying backpackers taking up too much sidewalk space in the crowded city. People hardly looked at as they went about their daily business. If anything, they cautioned us, “There are thieves around here, be careful.” But that was all. We weren`t the center of attention, and it was wonderful.

It was the same in Arequipa. I saw Peru existing of its own accord. The rest of the world seemed so far away, and I was really here.

Of course, Machu Picchu and the ruins were amazing, but that�s the Peru of the past. And if all foreigners leave Peru knowing only those ruins, some parts of Lima and the touristed areas of Cusco and Lake Titicaca, that constitutes an image of the country that in no way does it justice.

Location: La Avenida del Arco 189, Lima, Peru