It is one of those days when your face won't wake up. Your hair which hasn't been washed for two weeks is falling out all over the sweater that is too big for you, which you are wearing to hide the fact that you can't zip up your skirt. You round a corner, when you hear a passion-clogged voice murmur, preciosa, linda, guapa! You look back, expecting to see a beautiful Peruana, but you are the only thing in sight that is female. And then you realize that they are talking to you. You are in the throes of culture shock. You have been accused of being a US government spy. Your English class is disappointed because you have never met Paul Anka. Groups of small children follow you around chanting "money". You are on your way to your room, determined to lock yourself up with TIME Magazine and a can of insect repellent. Suddenly, you spot a suave, sun-glassed acquaintance coming to meet you. "Lucho" you cry. And then you try to pour out your pathetic little story. But all he says is "you have the eyes of the Agrarian Reform".