Made it despite Delta Airlines...

I learned upon arriving at SFO that my Continental flight had "been delayed." I learned later that that meant the plane I was supposed to fly to Houston on at 7:30 a.m., and then onto Lima, would not arrive until 5 p.m. in San Francisco. They found me a seat on, god help me, Delta, which has long been fighting with United to be the worst airline in the world. Check in at SFO for Delta is incredibly and inexplicably frustrating, consisting of standing in a series of lines, eventually, ploddingly, moving from one to the other, but with no real progress in sight. Somehow I made the flight, only to Atlanta, not Houston. I begged for an aisle seat on the Lima leg...the clerk acted like he had done me a big favor. When I boarded, I found myself stuck in a tiny, windowless window seat for the very long 6 hour journey to Lima. What a jerk.
The best news is that Monica was there to greet me with my name held high amidst of sea of jockeying touts. Between my broken Spanish and Monica´s busted English we had a lovely conversation as we drove the 30 minutes to the Miraflores district (the nice, much less dodgy part of Lima, on the ocean). The hotel, while aspiring to a kind of atrium lobby, quasi deco grandness is a tad sad. My room is covered in orange...and while I like orange, there is a limit (the bedspread is that cheap kind of plasticky fabric that scratches)...and outside my bedroom window it sounds like a riot or a robot war (but when I look out, I see nothing). But it is clean and very well located I am told (I have no idea) and the bellhop just delivered my Cusquequena beer.
Tomorrow, Monica picks me up for a tour of Lima. Then off to the airport to retrieve the Hawaiians. It is in the 60s and wet here.
P.S. I confront once again the mysteries of the international computer keyboard! Forgive me for a misplaced or absent hyphen, or a loose exclamation point...things just aren´t where they are supposed to be.