Excessive Flatulance And Yellow Stools

DAY TOUR GUIDE - JULY 12

SOME WORDS FOR THE DAY OF THE TOUR GUIDE

Since 2005, when the FENAGUITURP decided that every July 12 as the day of Tour Guide, in some regions of Peru Associations Tourist Guides commemorate the struggle for professionalisation and regulation of Law 28529, Law on Tourism Guide.
in the La Libertad region, where tourism is still incipient, the GOTUR have understood the need to specialize to maximize their potential. Hence, since 2006 began a stream of classroom training workshops. The fluctuating demand and becomes capricious and demanding motivates in a way, the need for specialization of Tourist Guide. The message in the speech of Tour Guide, is due in large part thanks to science, which is the first source to consult. In the case of Liberty, the Archaeological Project Managers always have accessed any training workshop requested by the Tourist Guides, hence the sincere gratitude to all researchers who are part of this story is written.

Training organized by El Brujo Archaeological Project

On 26 June, the Archaeological Project "THE WIZARD" organized a day of training for Tour Guides in La Libertad (also attended by colleagues from Lambayeque). The objective was to report the latest research, as well as the official launch of a new product, which is part of "Mystic Tourism." Project Manager French regulator, would have seen this new product launch strategy with GOTUR, who would become the channels to the tourists interested in experiencing a "clean session and flowering." Pleasant surprise for the 60 participants who were also part of the "clean" by a natural healer of Magdalena de Cao. The day will continue with visits to artisan workshops of Magdalena de Cao, not before he enjoyed the local cuisine with its own stale Cao.
We thank the tourism businesses that contributed to the completion of the event as well as Veronica Picon, who was the coordinator in charge.

Activities for the day of the Tour Guide.

Freedom In The Region has two representative associations which bring together the Tourist Guide: The Official Guide Association Tourism (AGOTUR LIB) and the Association of Tourist Guides Without Borders (GSF), each with different aims and objectives. For this year, LIB AGOTUR to celebrate the day of the Tour Guide organized two activities: a field trip and dinner at a renowned tourist restaurant.
The start was made last July 10 at the region of Ancash, where we visited the archaeological complex Sechin Sechin Alto, Las Aldas and Chankillo. An output of union recognition but also, pleasure and peace. The observation and interpretation of geography was linked to the cultural landscape rich, concentrated energy in the mentioned sites flowed in the open-mindedness walkers.

By 12 July, the restaurant "El Mochica" Huanchaco would welcome us to offer a dinner with a Peruvian dance performance with live music by Orquesta Internacional "Mochica." A gesture of hospitality and generosity by the current administrator of the restaurant chain in question. It was a night of fun, camaraderie and lots of dancing!

that remains is to thank all those that make the Tour Guide function, but especially the Earth, source of inspiration for all the saints and demons of Tourist Guides.
A big hug to all tourist guides of Peru and the world from TRUJILLO the solid north. Sincerely

: Víctor Corcuera Cueva

Regulo Franco Archaeologist full presentation on the latest research. In the table accompanying Francisco San Martin and Alejandro Camino.


The master healer with your table.


Participants of the event, the Huaca background.


The master healer Regulo supported in full session of "clean" to the Tour Guides at the well ceremonial.

One
joinery workshop in Magdalena de Cao.


for posterity with all participants.


Entering the Archaeological Complex "Chankillo."


magnetic Under the cover of "The Castle of Chankillo"


Flanked by the Pacific Ocean and the sensuous dunes would come to "The Aldas" monumental archaeological site with over 4000 years old.


taste the cuisine of Casma: Ceviche and sweaty ...
Cabrilla



Sechin ...

Dinner on the Guide Tourism

Ge Spacemaker 1800 Microwave Fuse

Violeta your skin numb, white and cold as an iceberg in the distance. No longer supports the trembling of your heart wanting to warm up so many days out of his house and sometimes the man warming his legs, back or buttocks with the crack of this another skin.

past couple of weeks has moved to the street Letenska Along the tram corridor and facing the back wall of the Wallenstein Palace Gardens . But still missing, the spell on the streets of Prague change direction and lead to different places each time, is so active in the Staré Město as in Malá Strana . So Violeta keep walking without care much where, just want to stroll embedded in fleece, fully veiled between the hood and two scarves that make it an ambiguous that forward and backward, turn, weigh, and trembling through the night and tram lights dim for a moment their eyes light honey are able to see lies the dark. They are the sounds of their land and laughter that burst beyond its own memory.

Violeta loves all this cold that will not let her live. Would spend the night wandering through the narrow streets if not for his heart would stop. As your body breaks down your mind seems to open up to other dimensions, other times and religions, all flowing into his head as his footsteps in the snow frosted face and the pavement of a city built only the screams and dreams. Violet cries, but his throat remains silent, sometimes that hurts more pleasure than the pain and sex beats waiting for the next blow. Now do not know if you remember or dream.

When you get home, fill the hot tub and sinks to delete the last crack shivering. The words float on his lips to come out like goldfish. Shut your eyes to strong and not missed anything, to continue dancing all close together, hugging, until the time comes to die on paper. Play with their sex under water and long for that mango cream with bath after massaging the skin. If I were now in The Portuguese extended their flow across the face, breasts, stomach, to go out and attract love and luck. But it is in Prague and love only exists if it is written.

has come to Prague writing and forget the pain, but none of those things has happened yet. Just strolling through the streets and remembers with pleasure all that damage, breaking of the skin that every stroke, fearing that more and ask for more, that feeling of feeling left with the final blow. Not used to such boiled vegetables, as many as night and silence, but it's okay, solitude and the minutes accompanying weigh like iron boxes watches are dead and remain firm, formed in platoon to execute any second that becomes a moan. And Violet moans and strokes in circles with two fingers, the water bubbles when you bite your lip and a spasm and a more and wait and wait and write, wait and write. Out of the tub and the cold is back there, sitting in his chair in front of the paper. Wait and write.

And write until dawn. Every night for two to six non-stop writing goldfish flitting in his head. Write about this man, his master, who once suggested a game. He writes about as a child and the world was ending. Write to avoid thinking about writing. Sometimes the paper floats in the air and she continues to write without it, he rose from his chair and runs three times the Room, from left to right, never in the opposite direction to the hands of time that passes, leaving without leave, remaining always a bundle of what may have been. You stand in front of the mirror and strips, there remains a void for those looking moments of tenderness of the man and his violence, caressing each of the butterflies that he himself tattooed, remember the fire of the needle, texture of saliva in the mouth, the taste of blood that had just never flow. Sometimes I cry, but the cold weather comes back to life and has to wrap up quickly, drink another glass of slivovice and keep writing about this game all dressed in red letters.

When morning he goes to sleep and every one of the words you entered during the night becomes a fish, each fish a color, each color a wish and see the morning sun is shining and birds singing and she wakes up naked with his hand stroking the sex of their master and his mouth full of water up to kiss him Violeta blow it up and sings like a bird and gets up to make pancakes and eggs for your breakfast love and be happy. Mornings at The Portuguese are always on Sunday and evening rains often. Violeta loves to walk naked through the house and go about his love for it to whip him to neglect the buttocks. Hours pass as-a-boo, no after another, first three, then six and then it is difficult both. Sometimes they come two days three nights, but they did not repair this, only care about the morning sun and afternoon rain, the clocks are soft cheese and hang on the walls, leaving time for their dripping hands without fingers. The rules are easy: the master sends the slave obeys. Sometimes she plays not obey and punishes him severely in order to excite more. When the rains come the two sit embracing on the porch and contemplate the shower two hours in absolute silence. Dagger The rain falls and makes a noise of a thousand pins on the litter. I never know what you think either at the moment, but I know that they love. When the rain passes the master recovers its wand and tells her slave tasks. She diligently to obey his master not to bother. When it ends is about to tie the tippet you to his ankle. Another day has won an award from pain. He never hits hard, just to check a small cardinal, but a drop of blood then lick. The beatings will follow very slow, with a frequency so diverse that Violet can never guess when she'll come next. Wait, write, wait, write. While striking, the master tells his voice husky a story that makes up to the sound of cracking of the skin. Violeta stories of their love seem so beautiful that tears made a puddle on the sheets, when it comes to orgasm their butterflies seem to fly.

Violeta

always wakes at noon, while the Czechs eat their greasy soup. The eyelids cover as tombstones and sleep and the goldfish will not let breathe. Take a deep breath: one, two, three, and cold again brings to life and begins to shake. She dresses as fast as you can and you mess up the first joint of the day. It is very quiet, with eyes covered by his hands between puffs, you will not escape the dream, wants to know if she has a dream that night he wrote, but the dream is already a lot of smoke and made grass she is desperate for a moment because the other day everything is in order: waiting times for sixty minutes and things that pass and do not return. His master died when she left and she seeks a street in Prague take you to him. Wait and write. Spend a long time until he decides to approach the table and take the sheet of paper. Once again there is written so that after he dreamed, but not read a single word, there are only goldfish.

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