She stops, unfazed by the furious eruption of honking around us. "¿En serio?"
"Sure, why not? I love parks. It's be good for us. You know, stetch the legs before lunch and all that nature stuff. Especially trees. They're so awesome. Do you like trees?"
"Sí." She sighs as the Toyota's right wheels screech to a stop against the curb.
We enter the lovely Park Bosque de Olivar in the well-heeled San Isidro financial district. At first blush, I think I've finally done something right. It's a pleasant respite from the city, where lush trees line walking paths and the smell of flowering life punctures the nostrils. A perfect place to wander without care or just sit on a bench and stare at the man-made pond.
Auntie M talks herself down from DEFCON ONE as we saunter, side by side, listening to trilling bird songs being drowned out by the puke warning growls emanating from my stomach.
I'm not so sure things are going well. "Sorry about my weirdness back there. I've. . . I've just got a very, VERY weak Cardiac Sphincter. That's all."
"Es that. . . dangor-us? Dangerous?"
"Only if I'm throwing up on you."
I takes it you has never been married?"
"Nah. Somehow I missed out on that boat ride. You?"
Auntie M winces and shakes her head. "No. Mi nieces and nephews es my children."
We both put our heads down and stroll. She fiddles with her well-coiffed hair and bright earrings. Silence.
Say something. "And the years keep coming."
"Sí." She stops and points to some feathered creature high in the crotch of a tree plucking its armpit. "¿Qué es?"
I squint. "A bird."
She looks at me with her patented 'I know that, you idiot' look. "What type, silly?"
Okay. She asked for it. The bird looks grey so, to me, the answer is obvious. "It's a. . . Duck-Billed, Grey. . . Titted. . . bird."
Not satisfied, she immediately points over at a couple of even less identifiable creatures stuck on a branch. "¿And those?"
"Uh. . .yeah. . . that. That's a flying tree squirrel violating a chinchilla."
"¿Y esta?"
This charade goes on for some time as we stroll about, until I run out of legit-sounding names for all the flora and fauna.
She turns to me. "Es my favorite park in Lima."
I look around and shake my head, pretending to admire nature. "I can see why. Very. . . green."
"Sí."
"And I especially like the flesh-eating koi."
Well, the koi aren't really flesh-eating, but whenever someone throws a slice of bread or even a bottlecap into the pond, they pile on top of each other, mouths agape, practically willing themselves en mass out of the water for a tiny morsel. It's. . . eerie. Like some post-apocalyptic painting where a colony of radioactive instectoids swarm into a giant's mouth and ravage its skull.
And with that, I am suddenly famished.
I turn to Auntie M, who's still intrigued by the koi feeding frenzy. "How about somewhere with a nice ocean breeze?"
She turns to me and starts dialing her phone. "I knows just the place."