Life is an ongoing process of choosing between safety (out of fear) and risk (for the sake of growth). Make the growth choice a dozen times a day.

- Abraham Maslow

Within seconds of jumping off the crowded bus, my eyes burned from the heavy smoke-filled air that engulfed revellers waiting to see in the new year. Thousands of people filled the beach front. Food carts and stalls lined both sides of the street, selling everything from yellow underwear to hamburgers. Fireworks and alcohol were for sale from the boots of peoples' cars. Not a police officer or security guard in sight, although I'm sure they were around …. somewhere. The beach itself was stacked with tents, at times 5 deep. There were multiple bonfires, made from wood purchased during the day at one of the many make shift convenience stores throughout town.

The music was loud and it was hard to breathe. My eyes were watering by now and my friend could tell by the look on my face, that I was struggling to manage the basics. He grabbed my hand and confidently weaved through the crowds like all this was completely normal, expertly guiding me to a food cart owned by friends from Venezuela. This little haven of safety became my home for the rest of the night.

Mum and daughter run the cart, selling fare Peruvians are used to like hamburgers and salchipapas (chips and chopped up sausage drowned in sauce - don't ask ), as well as introducing them to traditional Venezuelan delights, like Arepas (pockets made from white cornmeal and filled with all sorts of goodness). The daughter spoke some English, we could have a conversation, and she was really keen to learn about NZ food and culture. We talked about roast lamb, pavlova, pineapple lumps, hangi food, the haka, hongi greetings and mokos. She learned a lot!

The mum was an absolute delight and while she couldn't speak a word of English, she was excited to tell one and all about her new friend from New Zealand. By the end of the night we had bonded over teaching each other how to say 'Happy New Year' in our respective languages. Before long other Venezuelans joined the group and it became a reunion of old friends and new.

What a lovely welcoming people they are. Their country has been torn apart by corruption and political unrest and many have fled the land they love and all their worldly possessions, to survive. Food and medicine is scarce. You're only allowed to buy food on a set day of the week, determined by the last couple of digits on your national ID card. If you rock up on a Wednesday to buy flour and milk but your ID card number is only valid on a Friday, too bad for you. You are turned away. It's hard to comprehend. Food cart mum was a lawyer back in Venezuela. Her daughter has a degree in international business. Yet, here they are, selling hamburgers and fries on the side of the road .... with the biggest smiles on their faces, dancing to the music and openly grateful for all they have. It makes me reflect on; how proud I am of NZ, how much it would hurt to be forced to leave my country, how it would feel to know you may never return to the land you love, and how easily a country and the story of its people can change.

Feeling safe and content around this little food cart, but unable to get involved in much of the conversation, I decide to roll my sleeves up and help out, as only a true kiwi does right. I took over potato peeling duty for awhile and the girls had great pleasure in telling customers that the chips they were eating were prepared by a girl from 'Nueva Zelanda'. Most customers wanted to shake my hand and wish me a happy new year, which was very sweet. Some just looked at me like I was from Mars.

Midnight finally arrived but there was no countdown, just an eruption of fireworks …. that went on for over 27 minutes! Every man and his dog letting off their firework stash. The sound and chaos of it was another sensory overload. Peruvians LOVE their fireworks! Christmas eve was probably slightly bigger on the 'how many fireworks is too many' scale, but New Years certainly gave it a run for its money! (Note: video available on the 'videos' tab of this blog - don't worry, it's not 27 mins long!! )

Late the next day we plan to head back to Arequipa, thinking it would be as simple as going to the bus stops and buying a ticket. Should have known better. It was chaos.

People everywhere shouting and yelling in Spanish. The queues were insanely long and moving slower than a sloth (sorry sloths everywhere, I love you, but you are painfully slow). Thanks again to my friend's excellent Spanish skills (I really need to get the hang of this language thingy) we discover there are minivans down a couple of the side streets loading people up. It costs a little extra but at this point we are in the 'lets get the hell outta here' mentality … so we pay about 10 soles more and jump on. Boy am I glad we did - our driver is the best! Never again will I complain about Auckland traffic, never. If you guys hear me in a moment of weakness …. feel free to slap me and remind me of new year's day in Peru OK?

The queues coming into Arequipa were ridiculous. I'm talking kilometres and kilometres of traffic, not moving at all. As I'm explaining to my friend that the number one cause of road deaths in NZ is people crossing the centre line (OK, I'm not sure the accuracy of that stat … but it sounded good) our driver casually heads over to the wrong side of the road and passes about 300 cars! He sneaks into the line through a tiniest of gaps (much to the displeasure of the people directly behind) just before a cop appears. Initially my heart skipped a beat or three, but after he expertly repeated this manoeuvre about 5 times, I fell in love with him! What a legend. Based on the traffic, this should have been a six hour trip back to Arequipa. Done and dusted in three. Yah for dodgy side street vans with overpriced seating.

Happy 2018 everybody!! Feliz ano nuevo!! xx