Chapter 21: Around the World in Seven Days

On Sunday evening, I started to apply online for the necessary visas. I wanted to use the ten hours we would have to spend in New York to see the city of my dreams, as I had never been to the United States before. And what could be more obvious than to start in this great global metropolis? Applying for the visa online via ESTA was child’s play. Payment was no problem either, but how long the process would take remained to be seen. If we did not get the ESTA visa, we would have to wait in the transit area of JFK New York for our connecting flight to Hong Kong.

For Hong Kong, I also applied for a visa electronically, but was told that it would take at least 10 days to process. So, the only option was to stay in transit. Vietnam and India were easier. If you have a valid Schengen visa for Europe, you can get a visa at the airport in Vietnam. This was no problem for me as a Belgian with a valid passport, but for Priya I had to go to the German consulate to get a European visa. Only then I could apply for an Indian visa for Priya. Priya also needed an ETA for the UK, which I applied for immediately. For travellers with a Vietnamese passport, many additional documents had to be added, especially a visa for the Schengen area.

Privately, I was upset that I had thoughtlessly agreed to Priya coming with me. It had made the travel arrangements more difficult. There were bound to be more problems. But there was one good thing about it. I was looking forward to having her company and hoped to spend some quality time with her. After the birth of her lovely daughter Hoa, we rarely had the opportunity to do so, but the evenings with her were always a special highlight. She was always so kind to me, so cuddly, and her smile always made me happy. That’s why I wanted to do everything I could to make this trip a highlight for her as well.

Luckily, I was a friend with the German consul in Trujillo. Shortly after my WhatsApp request, Mr Schmidt called me and immediately agreed to issue Priya a visa at short notice. He gave me a few tips for the planned trip and was willing to give me a letter of recommendation for the British Consulate in Lima. That would certainly help. I then exchanged a few friendly words with his wife. When I told her that we were building a home for homeless women, she was delighted. She promised to spread the word among the international community in Trujillo to raise funds for the project.

On Monday, Li showed me around the site. The tunnel boring machine, almost twenty metres long, had eaten its way further into the mountain. In the distance we could hear the hissing of the hydraulics. The clamps were pushing the machine forward a few metres. The tunnel entrance was also secured with steel mats. The tunnel walls looked nice, freshly plastered, and whitewashed. The length of the tunnel was marked every ten metres. I was impressed. Really good work had been done here.

Peruvian workers were everywhere, doing most of the work in the valley. They moved the conveyor belts and shovelled the fallen debris onto the belts. Their bodies were drenched in sweat and the dust formed a dirty crust on their skin. They had running water in their containers, but I knew they had to shower in the Casa every night after work. I wanted to make sure of that from today.

The deeper you went into the mountain, the harder it was to breathe. Although most of the dust clouds were sucked up and released into the open air through a system of pipes, the air remained stuffy. I stopped the tour at 150 metres. The dust caught in my teeth. I nearly lost my breath. How did the workers cope? They wore masks, but they made it even harder to breathe. Still, it was amazing how the work progressed.

Finally, back in the fresh air, Antonio helped me make some arrangements with the site manager. Li had to go to the harbour construction site on Thursday. I allowed him to use our Toyota for the trip if he took Priya and me to Trujillo. He clarified on the phone that the trucks were not allowed to leave the N3 until after 10 a.m. that day. I wanted to give him the $38,000 for the completion of the first phase of construction beforehand against a receipt, which he was clearly pleased to receive. In general, he was a good person to work with. The friendly Chinese man was growing on me.

On Tuesday, after class, I went with Priya to the German Consulate in Trujillo. I also wanted to take the opportunity to see how the work on the former hotel was progressing. As we drove, I saw for the first time how the road to the mountain village had improved. The sunken road was wider and easier to drive on. Some sections had been levelled and some asphalted. It was clear that a road roller had strengthened many places and crushed the new growth. This made driving a lot more fun. And best of all, it hadn’t cost us any extra.

At the consulate, Priya had no problem getting her visa for the European Schengen area, even though the consulate was closed. Mr Schmidt had asked the clerk to wait for us. We spent the evening with the Schmidt family. We had a wonderful dinner prepared entirely from German recipes, a real treat.

This time we talked about domestic developments in Peru. President Martin Vizcarra had just dissolved parliament because it was constantly blocking measures to tackle rampant corruption. This had led to political tensions. The Schmidts even feared that a civil war might break out. I had never heard of that, and it worried me. A civil war in our host country, which I often referred to as our country, would make life difficult for everyone.

The consul’s son, Joachim, still kept in touch with Babette by e-mail and asked me about her, but I got the impression that his youthful infatuation had faded. And that was certainly in his parents’ best interests. Hopefully, my Beth would be able to cope if contact were ever to break off.

As we left, I arranged to meet Mrs Schmidt the next morning at the future ‘Casa El Futuro’, our project for the homeless.

At the Wyndham Costa del Sol Hotel, I had booked two rooms as requested, but this time both rooms were right next to each other. My balcony door opened onto a lovely terrace overlooking the pool. There we enjoyed the warm evening. So far, Priya had been very matter-of-fact, almost reserved, but with a glass of wine she blossomed. Her mysterious smile told me she was looking forward to a few hours with me. Her tongue moistened her lips. Her sensual smile and sparkling dark eyes accentuated her fabulous beauty. My God, she was perfect. What incredible luck to have such an angel with me, not even 17 years old.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and sat down on my lap. I loved the way her hand cupped my neck. The first kiss was overwhelming. She parted my lips with her tongue, our tongues searching each other tenderly. It was so intense and loving, just beautiful. And when I stood up and lifted her up with ease, Priya nuzzled her face into my neck. Her hand ran down my back. She smelled so good. A citrus scent enveloped me and heightened my desire. I gently laid her on my king-size bed and kissed her greedy lips. The way she kissed me back told me that she was ready for anything, that she longed to be pampered by a man.

In frenzy, we undressed, kissed, and caressed each other. She encouraged me with loving words and seemed unable to wait. Finally, she was completely naked in front of me. I stepped back to remove my trousers. Before me lay one of the most perfect beings in the world, her hands outstretched invitingly. Blood rushed through me. I took several deep breaths to control my wild desire.

I lay down next to her. Our bodies touched, her firm breasts pressed against me, her body pressed against my erection. We cuddled even closer and embraced, our lips dancing with desire. With one hand I caressed her hips and ass. A sexy body pressed against me, moving just a little. Her mumbling in a foreign language confused me. She knew exactly how stimulating this was for me. Her fingers wrapped around my erection. Her lustful moans washed away all rational thought.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, leaning forward to kiss her again. The head of my erection brushed against her stomach. The sensation made me gasp and I broke our kiss. I rose to one side, leaned forward and kissed her chest, tasting the first sweat between her breasts. My tongue caressed her swollen nipples. I gently sucked on one, suddenly thinking of how she had fed her babies with it. She looked at me in shock as I giggled a little. She laughed too when I revealed my thoughts, but pressed my mouth to the neglected side, moaning harder as I sucked on it.

Still, we took our time, enjoying our tender touches. A light pressure on my shoulders told me she wanted more. I was to explore her most intimate place, to pamper her there. Priya was warm, her pubic hair silky and curly, her labia slightly swollen and moist. She tasted like an excited woman, very sexy. As my tongue found and caressed her love button, I felt her first climax. Her body rose and fell, her thighs trembled slightly. I knew she was mine now. She pulled me to her, stretching her body towards me. She wanted only one thing: a sensual union.

Smiling, I kissed her gently. She stroked my back, her hands finding my ass and pulling me closer. Her hips moved slightly and she rubbed her clit against me. My erection found its way. A heavenly feeling, the way she wrapped herself around me, so tight, so velvety, enveloping my manhood, so willing, ready for lovemaking. A wave of lust washed over me. It felt so damn good to be buried in her.

Our bodies fit together perfectly. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her stomach against mine. Her thighs wrapped around my waist. We moved gently but with increasing passion. My excitement grew, our breathing intensified. I tried to control what was no longer controllable. My movements became more violent. Priya kept my rhythm in complete harmony with our feelings. As if weightless, we traversed an unimaginable universe of pleasure.

Suddenly, her hands grabbed my bottom. She snorted with pleasure. Her body began to vibrate and through my erection I felt her rhythmic twitching, accompanied by a snort of pleasure and the trembling of her body.

“Michael,” she gasped softly. I savoured every moment of her sudden climax. I felt her buttocks tense, her body undulate and her pussy contract with each wave of pleasure. Her chest rose and fell. She gasped for air, cries of pleasure, gurgling sounds. She had a wonderful climax, totally exciting, enchantingly beautiful. I couldn’t hold back any longer, I wanted to reach her level of pleasure, I raced towards it until my member released me and surrendered deep inside her. Her loud cry of pleasure increased my pleasure, my bliss. Our bodies were tightly entwined, our hearts racing, her tongue saying more than a thousand words.

Her hands stopped me from pulling away. Her vaginal muscles refused to relax, gripping my love rod. She wanted more, my erection deep inside her, as deep as it rarely gets after a climax. Priya closed her thighs, wrapped her arms around me and pressed her body against mine. Finally, under my own control, my mouth found her slender neck and shoulder. My excitement had faded faster than hers, but I tried to hold on. And I did. Her youth, her lust, her desire conquered my age. My masculinity strengthened, made my blood boil again.

While I caressed her, nibbled on her ear, and gratefully inhaled her wonderful scent, she was still trembling slightly but didn’t let go. She wanted more but moved carefully. We took our time, enjoyed our physicality, our mutual fusion.

After a few minutes of stimulating pleasure, I felt her growing excitement and helped her to the next climax. And it was intense, even stronger than the previous one. Her body tensed, her thighs squeezing my loins, her muscles squeezing my penis painfully. And it didn’t stop. I was starting to get scared because she was gasping for breath so hard, but she moaned, “More. Yes. – Push on! - More! - Let me explode”.

Still hesitant, I complied with the request, a little afraid for her. Her eyes were wide open, her body drenched in sweat but still full of desire. She was like an Asian wild cat, tiger-like and in heat. Her natural instinct drove her forward with desire. Then I had an unusual feeling myself, a desire for release. I felt, quite unexpectedly, that I was approaching my second orgasm. My movements became almost uncontrollable. There was only one thing left, my own sexual desire and its satisfaction.

“Oh, help!” I gasped. The pressure was building. My erection swelled. For a wonderful moment I felt pain in my groin from pleasure and then I exploded. Bliss overwhelmed me, my cum spurting into her. I pulled back and thrust again, exploding again in complete bliss. With my eyes closed, I felt nothing around me, enjoying the moment, still moving uncontrollably. Eventually, I was exhausted, drained, only my heart was racing like crazy. I was now worried about my partner, but she just smiled sweetly and said, “That was great. Thank you.” We exchanged a few more kisses and caresses, then my body gave in to the need for rest and sleep. A teenager had almost overwhelmed me, but we had had some great hours together.

On Wednesday, after a hearty breakfast, we drove to the Montoyas’ former hotel. I was surprised. The whole building was scaffolded. There were three workers on the roof. The front was also being repaired. Later it would be painted a delicate purple. Purple was considered by the Incas to be the first primordial colour, like the rainbow, and was associated with Mama Oclla, the founding mother of the Incas. Luisa had told me a lot about Oclla and asked me to choose the colour for the Indio women’s house in her honour. Luisa told me how Mama Oclla emerged from Lake Titicaca with her brother and how they united the mountain people and founded the city of Cusco.

Luisa was quite sure. “Mama Oclla would always keep a protective hand over the people in a purple house.” I gladly accepted the suggestion. A little mysticism would certainly be good for the reputation of the house.

Construction work on the house was also progressing rapidly. I heard voices in the basement. Agustin Montoya was showing the Schmidts around the house. Mrs Schmidt threw her arms around me. “Unbelievable. I’m ecstatic. Brilliant! What a beautiful house, and so big.”

Mr Schmidt introduced me to Lindsey Abby Fernandez. She organised a monthly meeting of women from the international community in Trujillo. She, too, was impressed by our project, but she expressed it in her sober, diplomatic way. “Mr Berthier, it was a pleasure to meet you. I am sure that your ‘Casa El Futuro’ will be a very good thing. Here is my card. Call me if you need any help. Many women here in a foreign country have no real work; they get bored when their husbands go to work. They will help you. I am sure of it.”

We sat together in what used to be the restaurant. I started by praising Agustin for the progress he had made. He modestly demurred and praised the construction workers. But the energetic American woman had a word for him. “Young man, if you don’t organise and monitor the progress of the work, nothing will happen here. What you have done in just one week is incredible. Congratulations.”

Mrs Fernandez ran the EducationUSA advisory centre in Trujillo, which promotes education in Peru and places well-qualified young people in educational institutions in the USA. The centre also offered on-site coaching, information evenings, and training courses. Many Peruvians were able to use the Internet at the centre or borrow books and DVDs. I was thrilled.

By the end of our meeting, we had drawn up a list of things the women’s group could do to help us, including Spanish classes, help with childcare and leisure activities for the future residents. Mrs Fernandez wanted to use donations to turn part of the car park into a children’s play area and to set up a computer room with donated second-hand IT equipment. If only half of these ideas could be realised, it would be a great help to us and the destitute mothers.

Unfortunately, I had to end the conversation because we had to be back in the valley by 1 a.m. I discussed the construction and payment of the work with Agustin and awarded other necessary contracts on the recommendation of an architect Agustin had hired. I had a very good feeling.

Priya was very excited, fought back tears of joy and kissed Agustin on the cheek. “When I tell my friends, they won’t believe it. What you have already achieved is just amazing”.

Our trip around the world was so exciting that I can only give a brief summary of our stops. What we experienced would fill a book. Anyway, on Friday night, Priya and I were sitting in Lima waiting for our flight to New York. Unfortunately, I was the only one who had a visa for the USA. Priya was allowed to fly with us because she had a valid ticket for the onward flight to Hong Kong, but she had to stay in the transit area. Fortunately, the British consulate in Lima had issued us with an ETA for transit through the UK, so we were able to take the Eurostar from London to Paris as planned.

The next morning at JFK, I tried to get a special entry permit for Priya, but all my efforts were in vain. The United States’ strict entry regulations applied without exception. I was unsure. Should I really explore the city alone? Priya urged me to seize the opportunity. She would survive the nearly twelve-hour transit and wanted to use the time to gather more information for our two-day stay in Saigon.

When I entered the country, I was a bit grumpy. A thorough interview, fingerprints, a thorough check of my hand luggage, I hadn’t expected this in the land of unlimited freedom, as I had often heard. It was certainly necessary, but I didn’t like this first contact. But then I was enchanted by the atmosphere of the city. Even the taxi ride into Manhattan was impressive. But it wasn’t just the canyons of buildings through which my taxi meandered that impressed me. I was used to the vastness and greenery of our valley, the open view of nature and the high mountains. I had to get used to the hustle and bustle of the city and the sun, which was mostly blocked out.

The friendly taxi driver took me to Pier 16 in Manhattan. I had planned to explore the city on the hop-on, hop-off bus, but on the driver’s recommendation I booked an express boat tour to the Statue of Liberty online. At around 9 a.m. I sat on the panoramic deck of the small boat and could hardly believe my luck as we passed the Brooklyn Bridge on the East River. Soon I had ‘Miss Liberty’ in my sights. Fascinating, a childhood dream come true. We took a quick photo stop in front of the Statue of Liberty. It was much smaller than I had imagined, but very impressive.

Ellis Island was passed on the return journey. I learnt a lot about the history of the USA and the problems of immigration. Next to me sat a young family with a son who was perhaps six years old, he was Vietnamese, she was from the Philippines, and they proudly told me their story of getting a green card and their difficult start in New York. I would have liked to hear more, but we were back at the pier far too soon.

The taxi driver was already at hand. He had managed to book me a seat on a helicopter flight. How lucky I was! Unfortunately, Priya was not there. My thoughts were with her for a moment, but then I was hooked as the helicopter gently lifted off for the 45-minute flight. I was excited and a little nervous, but the crew gave us friendly and professional instructions. Still, my heart was pounding as the departure point receded into the distance.

The skyline of New York City was just breathtaking. The sun was reflecting off the windows of the skyscrapers and I could see people walking through the streets like little dots. I didn’t know where to look first and forgot to take pictures for minutes on end. We hovered over the Big Apple and enjoyed Manhattan from above. The view of the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, One World Trade Center, and Central Park was indescribable. Soon, we were on our way to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, which I had just visited by boat. The pilot smiled and asked if we were all OK. Suddenly he tilted the helicopter sideways. Two women behind me squealed in shock, but the pilot managed to catch the aircraft and steer it over the Hudson River to give us even more impressions of Manhattan. The $300 was well worth it. I will never forget that flight.

There was a seafood restaurant near the pier where I had lunch. Well, I’ve eaten better, especially for almost $40. And then I had a problem with the waitress. She wanted a bigger tip, and not in a very friendly way. A man at the next table pointed out that the tip was the woman’s wage and should be at least ten per cent. I didn’t like that at all. The food was bad, the service too slow. I had to wait almost half an hour to pay. Annoyed, I gave her another three dollars. No thanks, no greeting, fortunately just a brief episode during my stay in New York.

Time was gradually running out. I wanted to be at the airport by 4 p.m. I walked a few hundred metres towards China Town to enjoy the life around me. Then I took a taxi to Rockefeller Center. I skipped the view from the roof and walked to the Empire State Building. I had a coffee in a McDonald’s and a plain ice cream. An older man, a little unkempt but well educated, spoke to me. I thought he spoke perfect Oxford English. We chatted for a while. Then a nanny came to our table with two cute blonde girls. I joked with them, thinking of my children at home. The dark-skinned woman was a little shy around me, but when she heard I was from Europe, the ice was broken. Later, I spoke again to William, the older gentleman at the table, who turned me down indignantly. “Anyone who talks to black people cannot be my conversation partner,” he hissed at me.

What was that? Apartheid here? Here, in one of the most cosmopolitan cities, certainly an exception, but unthinkable to me. I was horrified. My response was correspondingly rude. I left without saying goodbye. It was almost 3 o’clock and I had to get back. Luckily, I found a taxi to take me to the airport. The driver was not very talkative, was constantly on the phone and playing loud oriental music in the car. He looked at me, but I liked the songs. I gave him a friendly nod and enjoyed the additional impressions of the journey. He stepped on the gas in the long tunnel. Was there no speed limit? He knew exactly whether there was a speed limit or not, or so I assumed.

In the departure lounge, I called Priya. She had a surprise for me and introduced me to Nguyen Linh, a thirty-year-old IT specialist. They had already spent a few hours together. He was also going to Hong Kong and then to Mumbai to do some work for a steel company. He didn’t want to talk about it, something about IT security and protection against hacking.

Priya wasn’t at all interested in my experience and me. She only had eyes for Nguyen. They spoke mostly in Vietnamese. Only sometimes, when Priya couldn’t find the words in her native language, would they switch to English. Had she fallen in love at first sight, like Zarina?

When the American with Vietnamese roots went to the toilet, I asked her about it. “No. For me, he’s not the kind of man I’d fall in love with quickly, but he’s caught fire. He wants me. We’ve even kissed twice. He would be a great asset to our valley and us. I think he already wants it. I’ve almost got him there.”

I looked at Priya in disbelief, but she smiled away my worries. “Please let me do it. With three children I won’t get a man otherwise. I’ll take my chances. I’m sorry if it sounds mean, but I think he’ll be eating out of my hand one day. I like him. He’s smart and hasn’t had much experience with women. Maybe he’ll even be a good father to my three little ones.”

Hey, what was wrong with Priya? She was so different, so selfish. But maybe she was right. Of course, it was too fast for me, but when would Priya get another chance like this? I checked his details on the World Wide Web while the two of them drank tea. He had a good reputation, had been freelancing for years, and had good reviews for his assignments around the world. That’s when I decided to help Priya. Just before boarding, I asked at the Cathay counter for an upgrade for him. He only had an economy ticket. It wasn’t very comfortable for the 16-hour flight. It cost me $800 for him to fly premium with us. He didn’t want to take it, but I just said, “Priya asked me to do this. I couldn’t say no. Could you?”

Laughing, he shook my hand in agreement. “You’re right. If Priya wants it, we both have to obey. I’ll give half.”

Our seats were perfect for an affair, in the last row of the premium section. I happily gave Nguyen my seat next to Priya and sat in Nguyen’s place. I was excited to see if my companion could win over her chosen man and thus win for us. She had all the weapons on her side, those of her youth and those of a particularly attractive young woman. I knew very well how well she knew how to use them.

The steward had noticed the couple. He spoke to them. All I understood was that they should behave properly. He would not tolerate wild hanky-panky. I had to smile. Hopefully, there would be no scandal.

Soon after dinner, the cabin lights were dimmed. I listened to their whispering for a while, interrupted by the occasional audible kiss. I soon fell asleep in the comfortable chair. When I awoke a few hours later, it was already light. We had crossed the date line and the sun was with us on our flight.

Priya came back from brushing her teeth with her little wash bag. I waved her over. “Are you all right, Priya?”

“Of course. We had a good night and got even closer. It’s going well.”

And, so it was. The two of them seemed like honeymooning lovers, enjoying every minute, watching the film ‘Forever My Girl’ on their screens at the same time, both pausing the film to discuss what they had seen. I was proud of my girlfriend. She seemed so mature, so educated, so open-minded. Nguyen seemed to adore her. And Priya was right. The man was right for her.

The problem was their separation in Hong Kong. We were only allowed into the transit area. Nguyen had to check out. The ten-minute farewell could have been part of a Hollywood film. “A consuming kiss - goodbye - he came back. - Another kiss. - A tearful goodbye - Priya stood waving at the glass wall. - He came back again. – Finally, a last kiss. - Long wave.”

Priya smiled shyly at me. I had the impression she was in a great mood. Were her tears just fake? “We have an agreement. He will be my husband. He is willing to work with us in the valley. I like him very much. I don’t know if it’s love.”

“I’m happy for you, Priya. Did you tell him about your children?”

“Of course. I even showed him photos. He was excited about my children, but also about our valley. He thinks our new broadband connection will even allow him to continue his work. When he’s at the airport in Mumbai flying with us to London, he’s mine. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind, I am only surprised. But doesn’t he have a job in India?”

“He wants to work day and night. He could do it in three days.”

I was curious to see how things would turn out, but Priya was pretty sure. I kept my fingers crossed for her.

We made ourselves comfortable in a small restaurant in the transit area. Waiting for six hours was stressful, but we knew beforehand how much downtime the journey would bring. Then a miracle happened. When I asked at passport control if I could go to the HSBC bank in the airport concourse, there was only a brief discussion. I knew I had no chance. There had been riots on the streets of Hong Kong for weeks. People were protesting against new Chinese laws. There had been serious riots on 1 October to mark the 70th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, and these riots had flared up again and again.

I told the two officials at passport control that I would definitely be back, gave Priya my hand luggage and a kiss in front of them, and then I was allowed to pass. What luck! The small branch of the HSBC bank was freely accessible. There was a counter and an ATM. The machine easily printed out my bank statements for the last two years. The balance surprised me: almost 13 million Hong Kong dollars, or more than 1.5 million US dollars.

Sorting papers at a small table, I carefully removed Ferdinand Grant’s passport, in whose name the account was held, from my file. I hoped I wouldn’t have any problems. There was a brief commotion at the counter when I presented my bankcard. Was that good or bad? A woman was talking excitedly on the phone as I was led into a small office. A little later I was treated like a king.

Without going into detail, my every need was met. My fake passport was copied, my ‘Grant’-mobile phone, which I had bought in Lima just before the trip, was registered, online banking was set up, a monthly standing order for one million HKD, more than 120,000 US dollars, was set up on the donation account in Huaraz. Finally, I bought three different funds recommended by the branch manager for a total of five million HKD. There was only one drawback. The bank insisted that I send them my Hong Kong tax return and proof that my income had been taxed correctly. They were right. I needed to do this urgently.