The first time I heard about them was in Banos in Ecuador. Then again in Cuenca. And when I arrived in Lima my landlord showed me proudly his arm and talk about the same place. I am talking about Cayote Tattoo, only to be found in Peru with a sky high name among costumers.

I want a tattoo for quite some time now so I took my change. I printed out my image (a dove for freedom and peace) and decided to take a look (sorry mom). My landlord walks me to the place where it all happens. The entrance is a small, bright room, with a flat screen on the wall showing the creations of the Coyote artists. Big men with tattoos covering their arms are looking at the available computers to see what would be their next body art. An average looking woman patiently waits for her husband to pick out his tattoo and her little girl sitting next to dad, completely fascinated by his hobby. I fall a little out of tune among those people, but kind of enjoy the rough folks and worship the door  that will lead to the back: the place where it really happens.

A muscular but not so tall Peruvian asks me what I wants and I show him my image. He asks me a couple of questions about the size, place and colors. He grabs a clean needle and gestures I should come along. “Placing it will only take about twenty minutes,” tattoo man says. My landlord throws me a big smile and walks back outside to wait in the sun while I enter the darkness.

We walk through a dark area which looks like a car garage. I have to giggle because of this underground experience and wonder if tattoo’s are still consider “dark” and only for the “wild child.” He lets me into another small room where two different cabines are placed. I see all the equipment laying around and can’t suppress a smile. The tattoo man copies my printed image and makes a stamp out of it. How he did that precisely I missed, because a guy two times my size with an extremely bloody arm appears from the other cabin. He throws me a tough look and again I try not to burst out in laughter.

The tattoo man brings me back to his world and places the stamp on my hip. “Ok?” he asks. I say it’s perfect and tattoo guys turns the music on. Trance music. Loud! I lay down and prepare myself when the tattoo man sits next to me and the needle starts buzzing. “Here we go!” he says. Now, I never really thought about if tattoos would be painful to get or not. But at that moment, with the buzzing needle coming my way I assumed it would feel like someone cutting my skin open with a butchers knife.

Well, it didn’t. I actually kinda liked the feeling. After about twenty minutes (just like he told me) he covers the “wound” with a plastic patch and takes me back outside. I only have to pay twenty dollars for my personal body art, get some instructions on how to treat it and feel very happy. The landlord is still waiting outsides and immediately shouts: “Show me!”  Without shame I strip down my pants on the street and show him my dove with pride. The tattoo man smiles: another happy Coyote.

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