“Good morning, children. My name is Doctor Gaby and this is Doctor Shipley. We’re here to talk to you about how to take care of your teeth.”

I’m pretty sure that Monday morning was the third time I’ve actually set my alarm in the last two and a half months. Why would I impose such a heinous inconvenience on myself as to allow a clock to wake me up?

I’ve been pretending to be a doctor, lying to children, assisting in a national health program, and wearing clothes that aren’t my own. This is not the kind of thing you get a late start for.

My name is Doctor Shipley. I have a small dental practice in the United States and I also work for a university as a researcher. Ostensibly, I speak no Spanish, but for some unexplained reason have been sent to Peru to observe the national health system.

As much as I want to claim credit for coming up with this idea, it was Gaby’s. I developed my back-story, but she thought of the overall idea. As part of her job, the Ministry of Health requires that she participate in community programs to both educate children and check their teeth. She told me about it and said, “Hey, do you want to borrow some doctor’s clothes and come with me and Cesar to the schools? We’ll just tell them you’re a doctor visiting from the United States to observe the Peruvian health system.”

The results have been nothing short of outstanding. I’ve gone to several schools, spoken in front of classes, helped check the teeth of rooms of unruly public school second graders, pretended to not speak any Spanish in front of authority figures and Gaby’s co-workers, and left a general trail of complete distraction and chaos in my wake. I love it.

Day One

Monday was to be my first day of “work,” but actually ended up being somewhat of a bust in terms of working with kids. I woke up early and hopped a combi to Brena, where Gaby and Cesar’s office is located. After the 45-minute, frenetic, whiplash inducing, start-and-stop combi ride, I met them on the street where they gave me a bag containing my blue doctor’s shirt and white overcoat. I put on my clothes and we went to our first school.

Upon arrival, I was introduced to the school’s principal as “Dr. Shipley” and they explained what we were there to do: speak to classrooms, check teeth, and apply a fluoride treatment. None of this program seems to actually be scheduled, we just show up and tell people what we’re going to do. No one seems to mind.

I stood there saying nothing as I switched back and forth between smiling and feigning professional intrigue. When I was introduced to someone, I shook their hand and smiled broadly but remained mute, trying to look confused when they said things to me.

However, due to July being Peru’s Independence month, every school was on a weird schedule that day for the Brena parade — we were unable to see the children. Instead of heading back to the Health Center where their office is located, we went to a restaurant, had some sandwiches, and then spent the day watching the parade. It was fun. Despite the clouds, I got a sunburn.

Day Two: Dr. Shipley Speaks

If Monday was a bust, Tuesday was fantastic. Without Cesar, Gaby and I returned to the school to go to some classrooms to ask questions and talk about tooth-brushing. At random, we picked a classroom and walked in.

The volume level and amount of chatter immediately doubled with each room I walked in to. Upon seeing the white doctor, the kids immediately gasped, began pointing, and started yelling and screaming. Woe is the teacher attempting to control her classroom in my presence. Without prompting, however, the kids did manage to yell out in unison to the doctors, “BUENOS DIAS SENORITA DOCTORA Y SENOR DOCTOR.”

Gaby and I would then go to the front of the classroom. After telling them our names, she would begin talking to them about tooth-brushing and asking questions of the class. I would stand there while she spoke and try to maintain some air of knowledgeable doctor authority by not laughing or grinning stupidly. The first question she got after asking the students if they have any questions about their teeth was, “Why is Dr. Shipley so tall?”

The typical order of events after this would include the kids asking the odd dental care question along with more questions about me. “Does he speak Spanish?” “Does he speak English?” “What is his name?” “Where is he from?”

Once there were enough questions, I usually gave a speech in Spanish about myself, why I was here, and where I am from. The size of their grins and volume of their gasps got bigger and bigger with each part. There would be surprise when they first heard me speak and it went from there to giddy shock upon me telling them that I am from the United States.

We ended our Q&A sessions by taking a picture of me and the kids, which resulted in an instant mobbing.

It was all very awesome.

Day Three: Checkups Begin

I continued the routine on Wednesday: meet Gaby and Cesar, adorn doctor’s clothes, head to school. However, Gaby was actually checking teeth this day. My job was to call the names of the students for their checkup and write down how many extractions and fillings each needed. Gaby explained that appointments would later be scheduled for the children to come in and receive the noted treatment.

It was chaotic and really hilarious. The classroom has almost no order, but the kids were cute and energetic. The second graders would try to speak to me in either unintelligible English or unintelligible Spanish — usually running over to me in the middle of their lesson. Gaby left the classroom with three propositions for dates, numerous new crushes, and several requests to kiss her.

Video from our Checkup Room (“Whiskey!” is the Spanish version of saying “Cheese!” for a photo)

Peruvian Second Graders from Nathan Shipley on Vimeo.

Back at the Health Center: Land of Relaxation, Dick Jokes, and Free Tooth Extractions

Each day, when we were finished at the school, we would wander around, look through stores, eat more food, and eventually return to the Health Center to sit until it was time to check out. This sitting generally included talking, listening to the radio, playing cards, and Cesar babbling on with a constant stream of dirty jokes.

I asked if anyone cared that we weren’t seeing patients and they both seemed surprised that this would even be a concern. It’s fine – no problem. “This is our job.”

I’m quite impressed at the dental care prices. Pictured here is the official price sheet taped to the wall of the dental office. First consultation: 4 Soles ($1.35). Filling with resin: $2. Filling with metal: free. Etc.

Brief Reflections

I expected to being doing some odd and random things on my trip, but impersonating a doctor was not one of them. I’m not sure if I would have believed Doc Brown if he showed up in the Delorean before I left and told me this would be my future in Peru.

Additionally, if you think gringos get a lot of looks here just by walking down the street, watch what happens when they’re wearing doctor garb while they walk. Everybody looks.

I am delighted with all of this. Beyond being ridiculous and really funny, I am actually doing something productive when I’m not a complete distraction.

Link to Flickr set is here.

Oh, yes. You read that right. Eagles.

Life on the 17th floor is good. There’s a video walk-through further down in the post. Only five blocks from the ocean, I have started going for morning runs along the promenade / park area that runs along the cliffs next to the Pacific. (Read that as: I went on one run yesterday and “hope to continue doing so regularly.”)

I can also see down in to the area where they’re welding together all the floats for Sunday’s Independence Day parade sponsored by two of the city’s big grocery store chains: Metro and Wong. There’s a sweet whale covered in reflective blue mirror panels and a bunch of other strange-looking floats in various states of completion.

Restaurant Taste at My Place: Lomo Saltado

I’ve had it in restaurants, but on Thursday evening Gaby and I made an outing to the Metro grocery store and bought all the necessary ingredients for cooking lomo saltado ourselves at the apartment. The results were quite delicious, little thanks to me. I was more of a kitchen functionary and music DJ than a co-chef during the process, which is probably for the best considering that my cooking abilities go little beyond Mac & Cheese or Tombstone pizzas.

Tired, Has-Been Rock Lives in Peru (And is practiced woefully close to my apartment!)

My new neighbors are apparently in a band and a practicing a cover of something that sounds like a prog-rock informed Led Zeppelin ballad. I say Led Zeppelin because the English lyrics include something about a “piper” and “the siren’s cry.” I say prog-rock because they were rocking the synthesizer keyboard ELO style; only more of a stoned, probably drunk, and much slower rendition of what the Orchestra might kick out.

(update: I talked to two of the band members. Nice guys. They seem to be the Peruvian version of old Deadheads. And, as suspected, one was wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt.)

Peru Observations, Part 2: PDAs, Gringos, and Dairy Options

Peruvian Displays of Affection
As with public nose-picking, public making out is big here. I assume this is because everybody lives with their parents until they either move away to go to school or get married and until then they’ve got no private place to get they propa’ swerve on at home. Generally every park bench at night is occupied by hungry couples exploring what tonsil-licking is all about and what it can do for them.

It is also common to find hotels with hourly rates once things are ready to move from the park to the next level. There doesn’t seem to be a stigma attached to this, it’s more of a practicality for those in need of some privacy. I wonder how good they are about changing the sheets after each patron?

White People are Starting to Alarm Me
I think I’m starting to understand how Peruvians might feel when they see me. I find myself somewhat surprised when I see the out-of-place gringo walking down the street. I’m so used to seeing Latinos that white people seem strange.

Dairy Down South:
Buying dairy products is a bit different here. Milk does not come in jugs or bottles and yogurt usually does. For milk, there are several options:

• UHT Milk (Ultra High Temperature)
  This is milk in a box. Popular in Europe, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. It requires no refrigeration and has a shelf life of six to nine months. Wikipedia says: “[the milk is heated] for a short time, around 1-2 seconds, at a temperature exceeding 135°C (275°F), which is the temperature required to kill spores in milk.” Mmm. Functional and spore free!

• Soy Milk
  Also comes in boxes; same stuff we’ve got in The States. Thanks to Renee, I like it.

• Evaporated Milk
  Milk in a can. You add water to the milk to give it the propa’ consistency. It seems to be very popular and cheap here.

• Fresh Milk
  It does not come in a jug: this is milk in a plastic bag (pictured on right), and has been what I’ve been buying for my apartment. It seems a little perilous to carry home from the grocery store and it doesn’t taste the same as milk back home, but it’s good.

• Yogurt
  Most yogurt in The States comes in small plastic cups and is the consistency you expect, know, and love from yogurt. While this thicker yogurt is available here, most yogurt comes in a chuggable container and is in a less viscous, drinkable form here. It’s just as tasty and good for the digestive system as the alternative and there are a myriad of flavors.

The Fruitless English Conversation Club Search Continues

I have not had much luck finding a conversation club. I have now walked in to 7 different schools – 3 of them specifically language schools – to inquire about groups I can join to help. No dice yet.

I did go to what was supposed to be a scheduled meeting yesterday with Ms. Caldas at the CIVIME Language Institute. Instead of speaking with Ms. Caldas, the head of the English langauge department at CIVIME, I sat for an hour or so talking in Spanish to the secretary and a (probably gay) Peruvian English teacher while I awaited Ms. Caldas’ availability. In the end, Ms. Caldas was unable to meet with me despite the fact that I could see her sitting at her desk in the next room. I gave them my phone number and was told to move along. The probably gay guy followed me out practiced his English some more until I made my graceful exit.

An Apartment Walk-Around

Curious to see a bit more of where I lay my head at night? Here’s a quick tour:

An apartment tour hosted by Nathan. from Nathan Shipley on Vimeo.

Additionally, it’s not entirely clear in the video, but here is a detail view of my JCTV Savior-Edition Video Vision Wall Mount:

More on the Peruvian-Chilean Divide
(or, “Peruvians are crunk ass mofos who wont stand for it.”)

Over lomo saltado dinner, I asked Gaby to tell me more about why “Peruvians hate Chileans,” as referenced in the comments about Peruvian wine in the previous post. Before she listed the following reasons, she interjected that she would buy wine “from France, Italy, or anywhere else. But not Chile.”

- Chileans claim many things that are actually Peruvian for themselves. For example:

The national drink, “Pisco.” Chileans claim that they, not Peruvians, were the first to make Pisco despite the fact that there is a city in Peru called Pisco. Gaby says that Chile started it’s own city of the same name to steal credit for Pisco. If you travel to Chile, they will serve you greatly inferior Pisco and wrongly tell you that it is a Chilean alcohol.

You can even find this debate spreading to the Urban Dictionary entry for Pisco if you search on Google for “peruvians hate chileans” as the third result. As Urban Dictionary user “hkfdlf” astutely points out:

A grape brandy first made in Pisco, Peru. No matter what any Chilean may tell you, Pisco is one hundred percent Peruvian. The Chileans are jealous of Peru’s awesomeness because their country is lame and they don’t have incredible incan ruins or the largest lake in south america or great beaches or the nazca lines or their own language or the amazon rainforest. basically they thought they could steal the Peruvian drink and hell no because Peruvians are crunk ass mofos who wont stand for it.

… which is retorted by “Enrique II”:

Strong alcoholic drink from northern Chile.
Peruvians try to get credit for it and are pissed of at Chile because we are always better than them at everything.. and we also kick there butts in all the wars! They are just jealous because Chile has the best Democracy in South America, while Peru has problems with trusting even there own President (Toledo) with a trust poll of 7%. So the only way to free there own problems is always blaming Chile… hahahaha.. so true and sad..

It even makes news headlines when a Chilean beauty queen requests a Pisco sour “Peruvian style” and prompts presidential comments that Chile’s Pisco is “watered down.”

- Chileans claim Peruvian foods are their own so they can export the foods to gain a monetary advantage as well as force Peru to pay taxes on their own products. (I was not clear on this, but chose to allow her to continue rather than break her flow.)

- Chileans illegally fish Peruvian waters.

- During the war, Chileans tried to destroy Peru’s cultural history by burning art and libraries.

- There is nothing to see or do in Chile. All they have are “some big stone heads. Oooh.”

- Chileans “have no culture.”

Thus, we should not buy Chilean wine despite the fact that it is actually good. I will ask some more Peruvians for their thoughts on Chile as I meet them. If I find a Chilean, I will ask about their thoughts on Peru.

My initial reaction as she went through this list of grievances was to smile and chuckle a little bit, but it was quickly obvious that (for the most part) she wasn’t laughing. At least for Gaby (who reads the blog, FYI), things that seem relatively unimportant to me are a minor sore spot. That said, she does have some Chilean friends, so perhaps “hate” is a strong word. Interesting.

Another School on Avenida Arequipa

I don’t know how I missed this the first time. To my delight, immediately next to the Norb Weiner Institute lies the “Bhoner Academy of Sciences.”

That’s all for now. Stay fly ’till ya die.

Riding around town all day on your motorcycle and need a place for a siesta? No problem:

After your nap, maybe you’ll have a walk past some of the local schools:

Then, head back to your new apartment to unwind with wine and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches:

Latest Flickr set is here.

Quick Highlights:

• Both myself and Lima were unaffected by the 5.8 magnitude earthquake in Peru early this morning and, in fact, I didn’t even realize it happened.
• Thanks to Peru’s Black Market Mall, Polvos Azules (Blue Dust), my laptop is fixed.
• I move in to my apartment in two days.
• I will most likely be impersonating an American dentist visiting Peru under the guise of observing the nation’s dental health system next week. This is a ploy to allow me to go visit elementary schools to participate in the preventative oral hygiene education outreach program. I will wear a lab coat and pretend to not speak Spanish. Details pending.

Laptop Crisis Averted

My laptop problem is solved. Despite the fact that the power adapter for my laptop showed voltage at the multimeter at Radio Shack, it is actually broken. This means the laptop itself is not the problem, which is good because there is not a single service center for this brand in all of South America. It would have to be shipped to the States (expensive), fixed (time consuming), and then shipped back (also expensive). Apparently I would also have to pay a tax on 30% of the value of the goods shipped in to Peru (said value is set arbitrarily by the dude in customs) AND packages also have a way of disappearing.

So how did I solve the problem? Why with:

The Wild Goose Chase of Aught Eight through The Computer Underground and a Lima Black Market

It took more than five hours and talking to a million people, but I finally found a charger for my laptop. It’s made for something completely different than my actual laptop, but, by God, it works.

After ascertaining that the charger was indeed the problem, the guy at Radio Shack said I should go to “Avenue Wilson” to look for a charger. I was given no more instructions than this. I met up with Gaby and away we went to Avenue Wilson where we found and wandered the hallowed and very casual halls of what I call “The Computer Underground.”

The Computer Underground is actually a dizzyingly large building with 4 or 5 floors and thousands of small booths selling computer stuff. While quite awesome, it is not organized; you just have to go from booth to booth to ask for what you need. The building houses vendors that sell almost everything PC-related – computers, accessories, monitors, printers, ink, etc. etc. Most booths have a barker that rattles off what they’re selling as you walk past them.

The reason I said they sell “almost” everything, is because NO ONE there sells the specific, 9.5 volt, 2.5 amp power adapter my laptop requires. We asked hundreds of people, and no one had what I needed. What was interesting about it, though, was that rarely will anyone tell you, “No, I don’t have that and I don’t know where you can find it.” We got offers to buy other incorrect chargers and, most of all, sent on a wild goose chase from booth to booth with false suggestions of where we could find what we need. Almost everyone would send us on our way with some sort of generic suggestion like, “Oh, go to the second floor – there’s a guy that sells them there.” or “The booth behind you sells them. Check there.” I stopped believing anyone after an hour or so and decided that Peruvians just don’t like to say, “I don’t know.”

I’d finally had enough and we went on a walk to a completely different building that had been suggested: Polvos Azules – Lima’s official black market. I thought The Computer Underground was big, but the Blue Market is MASSIVE. Chocked full of many thousands of small booths selling everything: cheap clothes, cheap electronics, cheap jewelry, pirate DVDs, etc. etc. I loved it.

We finally found a guy who had a power supply for a Phillips portable DVD player that is roughly the same as what my laptop uses. We tried it, and to my absolute delight, it worked. I had been instructed by expert-haggler Gaby to act like I was not excited about it to allow her to bargain better. She managed to knock about 20 Soles off the price the guy was asking and my problems were solved. Nice.

Gigantor Pirate DVD Market

The part of the Blue Market that impressed me the most, though, was the pirate DVD section. I thought the little pirate DVD carts in Cuzco were impressive, but the selection at the Blue Market is absolutely vast, organized, and ridiculous. There are countless booths of pirate DVDs, each containing thousands of titles. They have movies currently in theaters, old movies, anime, full TV series’ – anything. I asked how much it would cost to buy all five seasons of the HBO show “The Wire” and the girl told us it would be 50 Soles for 20 discs – A little less than $18. Crazy. Here’s a quick and cheesy walk through the aisles:

Pirate DVD Section of Polvos Azules in Lima from Nathan Shipley on Vimeo.

Washing Machine Shopping with Peruvian Dental Surgeons

I went shopping for a washing machine yesterday with Gaby and her co-worker Cesar, who is always laughing and quite awesome. I met Cesar last week when I got to walk through a Peruvian hospital with him and Gaby. At lunch on hospital tour day, Cesar introduced me to a tasty root juice that he said is the natural Peruvian Viagra and that I might need to cover myself as we walked down the street after leaving the restaurant. The results weren’t as dramatic as he made them out to be, but I knew I liked him when he said I was going to be a “tripod walking down the street” and that “women in front of me should be careful.”

This was in the afternoon – they finished with their patients and, rather than staying at the office, decided to go washing machine shopping instead. I tagged along and it was fun.

More Cheap Taste Delights!

Food here continues to be fantastic, filling, and stupidly cheap. Full menu lunch prices at small restaurants are in the $1.35 to $2.25 range. This includes a starter such as soup, calamari, or a potato concoction, followed by “segundos” which is your choice of a main dish, and a drink – which is usually a light fruit juice.

Here are some recent meals:

Fried fish, hot soup, rice, and lentils – $1.67.

Tasty steak and noodles with aji sauce and drink. Was about $1.83 and included the above-pictured really good calamari as a starter.

Biding My Time at Home Peru

I have been staying in a private room at a different hostel in Lima called “Home Peru.” It’s in an old, classic home in the Miraflores area. It’s been fun and I’ve continued to meet people from all around the world.

Peru Observations, Part 1: Traffic, Police, Poop, Prostitutes, and General Nose-Pickery

Traffic:
Car horns are for using. A lot. And not just your standard “Meep! Meep!” but car horns of many different varieties, most of which sound like frantic car alarms. Taxis honk to alert possible fares to their presence, combis honk for the same reason, all vehicles honk to warn pedestrians that they might get hit (whether or not they are moving towards the road), and, of course, cars honk at each other most of all.

Traffic lanes are merely a suggestion. Whichever vehicle is bigger or ballsier wins the right of way. Never assume that cars will slow down to give right of way to a pedestrian.

Caliente Traffic Cops:
I will not lie and tell you that there is not an allure to most of the female transit cops in Peru. They certainly have a mystique with their perfectly pulled back hair, uniforms, and stern-ish looks on their faces.

Dogs:
There are dogs running all over the place in every city I’ve been to. They are amazingly adept at not getting hit by cars. They don’t seem to bark either. They do seem to poop freely, often, and with reckless abandon.

Public Nose-Picking:
Nose-picking is big here. It seems to happen publicly, too. This guy was actually digging for gold nuggets for at least a minute and a half while he read the weekly specials at the grocery store.

Poop in Peru:
Maybe I’m immature, but I seem to notice more things about poop than I do back home.

Bathrooms are usually stinkier here because used toilet paper is to be thrown in the trash can next to the toilet rather than flushed to prevent blockages.

My leavings were unnervingly dark for a 4 day period last week. Things seem to be back to normal now, but trips to the stall had a rather sinister undercurrent for a while. The mystery remains unsolved.

Staying in hostels with unisex dorm-style bathrooms has proven to me that even pale, waifish, blonde Dutch girls can make sounds like truckers fueled by a day’s worth of Spicy Slim Jims, coffee, and diesel fumes at around 2 in the morning at a truck stop off of I-10 in Nowhere, Texas.

Prostitutes:
If you’re a gringo and you walk around the Calle de Pizzas at night in Miraflores, you will get hit up by prostitutes. They’re generally young, attractive in a slutty way – not like the wrinkled old bags blowing down the streets at home? – and will ask if you “want company.” Sorry, ladies.

Peruvian Beer:
It is good. Lighter but still quite full flavored. Actually not unlike High Life. Cusquena would be my favorite, but I’ve been drinking “Cristal” beer most of all because it shares a name with famous champagne and lends itself to quoting hiphop lines that no one laughs at (“some of that ol’ kris-staayl” or “money, hoes, cristal flows,” etc.). It is the self-dubbed “Cerveza de los Peruanos.”

Security Through Obscurity

I’ve decided that the best way to carry around money is not in a wallet, but rather, in a notebook that goes in my front pocket. The money goes in a flap in the notebook and nothing of value is even in my back pockets. Credit / ATM cards never even leave my hostel unless they’re going to be used.

Additionally, when I needed to take my laptop to the Wild Goose Chase, I opted to put it inside a common yellow plastic grocery bag rather than in a backpack or mjore substantial bag that looks worth stealing.

Stay tuned for more Lima dispatches!

Again, this posts Flickr set is here.

Maybe I was asking for it? Maybe God doesn’t want me to be so connected?

There was a power surge two nights ago which has left my trusty ASUS EeePC travel laptop in a state not so worthy of trust. In other words: It’s broken and won’t charge. There are no service centers for this particular brand anywhere in all of South America. I assume it will need to be sent to the States (and probably to Japan after that) for repair.

I had a blog post I’d been working on with some Lima observations, but until I can get this thing figured out, it’s a bit more complicated to upload pictures.

Bottom line: I’ll keep you posted.

In other news, I have spent the last two nights at a somewhat bizarre, somewhat crappy, but really awesome Peruvian karaoke bar. It is different from karaoke in the States and has proven to be quite hilarious on several different fronts. There is no stage. They just pass around a wireless microphone and you sit at your table and sing. I elected to stand while I sang Tone Loc’s “Funky Cold Medina” and the Guns ‘N Roses rendition of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Everyone seemed to enjoy my Axyl voice quite a bit. In fact, any American rendition of a song in English, in-key or not, seems to draw quite a bit of love from the crowd. Nice.

Okay, time for a bit to eat and some more laptop option research. Keep your powder dry, people.

We’re a movin’ on up! (Movin’ on up)
To the East Side. (Movin’ on up)
To a de-luxe apartment,
In the skyyyyyyy!

Well, after much searching, many phone calls, and numerous visits, I found an apartment in Lima. It’s a small penthouse suite on the 17th floor of a building smack dab in the middle of the business of Lima. It costs about $9 more per night than staying in a hostel. It has a panoramic view of the city and the ocean. It is furnished. There is a kitchen. There is a DVD player. Wi-fi. Microwave. Stove. Rooftop pool. Rooftop racquetball court. 18s in the trunk. 24-inch rims. And 70′s wood paneling like a roundhouse kick to the head.

When the sweet little old grandma who manages renters of the property was showing me the apartment, I said “Que chevere!” which is the same as saying “how cool” in Spanish here. She said, in Spanish, “Oh, so you know some Spanish words! Do you know ‘puta madre’?” She then went on to rattle off a string of swear words that I will not repeat here. Needless to say, I was immediately enamored to her and we laughed the whole time I was there.

I will not lie. This is pretty ridiculous. It is, as the kids might say, sick. Care to see some pictures? Czech it out:

The Couch (next to the kitchen)

The Kitchen

The Bed

Roof-top Hang-out Area (Pool is up and to the right, Racquetball and BBQ is to the left)

The View of the City

The View of the Ocean

Roof-top Pool (with weird-o colors that are not my doing.)

I finally got a piece of the pie?

My next mission is to look for a cheap Spanish class or instructor and to find an English class that wants a native speaker to come yammer at them for a while. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.