I was excited when Annette and I went back to el Museo Teresiano at San José. We went in the door. This time, in the darkened interior, a tall, handsome man stood behind the counter and took our coins. No, he spoke no English, but waved us out in a friendly way to join the tour that was convening at the church gate. Today, el día de la fiesta, there were many people. The man used the massive key to unlock the great gates and shepherded the group into the small chapel. He stood next to the altar and described the chapel's features and history.

The chapel was built during Teresa's lifetime. It was donated by her friend, Juan de Avila, who is buried in the church, as is her brother, Lorenzo, whose fortune amassed as Mayor of Lima in the age of conquest funded some of Teresa's reform. La Santa and her daughters sat behind the grille, high in the wall, to hear the service. The chapel floor was higher in the sixteenth century (I knew this from my first visit and still don't know why!), the ceiling decoration is mudejar - Arab-influenced - and the paintings on the walls valuable. The statue of San José is as old as the chapel, which was the first in the world to be named after him.

We moved into the church and received a brief, friendly, professionally polished description of each chapel on the right side of the church. He led us toward the altar and pointed out the barred grille. There is an active community here of 21 nuns who live in strict enclosure. They hear Mass hidden behind the grille. Their "primitive" Carmelite rule is very austere and they live exactly as Sta. Teresa did.

In the first row of benches before the altar I noticed the red coated figure whom I could now see was a woman, sitting motionless in the same place as before. Our guide led the group past the chapels on the left side, explaining each. He ended the tour at the last chapel and saw us out the door, then the gate, locking it behind him.

If Loli wasn't there, at least Annette could see the interesting relics, so we went back into the museum. I was disappointed, but I could come again before we left the next day for the journey south. Annette prompted me. "Why don't you ask him where she is?" It took a little, but not too much encouragement for me to try my poor Spanish on yet another stranger. "Oh, she's my wife, I'll just go get her." He looked around, then disappeared out of the museum.

In a few moments Loli appeared in the vestibule door. She smiled, we kissed on both cheeks, I introduced her to Annette. I showed her my finished drawing. She admired it, and we had a halting conversation, part of it containing an invitation to come to her house - or so I thought, but wasn't quite sure.

The conversation stumbled on, I presumed she was waiting for her husband to finish his last duties at the end of the day - he had gone into the church - and return to lock up the museum, at which time I'd receive clearer signs of the invitation. We moved into the street and Loli, facing the church, exclaimed, "here's another person with a great devotion to the saint - you must meet each other!" She motioned, and greeted a blue eyed, white haired woman wearing a red coat, which made three red-coated women and Loli, since Annette and I also both wore red coats (a matter of some discussion before we left - did we both want to be wearing red coats the whole time?)

The white haired woman's name was Gerd. She is Danish. Our conversation started slowly, half in Spanish, half in English. Gerd looked at first a little like someone just woken from sleep and still a little disoriented. We exchanged the rudiments of stories about being attracted to Avila by Santa Teresa, and Gerd soon woke up. She had been in Avila five years, having left everything behind because she felt Saint Teresa had called her to lead the life of a contemplative. She sits every day in the church at San José, talking with God. "To be with God," she said, "you must give up the world, it's too distracting. " I found her fascinating to look at. She was not young, clearly, but seemed almost somehow to glow.

Gerd wanted to spend more time sharing stories, and invited us to her house for tea and a short visit. I said in English to her that I thought Loli might have invited us to her house, but I wasn't certain - could she find out for me whether I had misunderstood or not? This of course would be embarrassing, and sure enough, Loli had not made such an invitation. Loli reasonably explained to Gerd and me that, not having a common language, we would not be able to say much to each other. Annette, with less Spanish, had understood better that what Loli had probably said to me was more like "anyone would be pleased to have something like this (drawing) in their home." Very well, yes, we would come to Gerd's house for a short visit, with pleasure.

Loli's husband, who had been occupied with locking up the church, returned and offered to take a picture of all of us, and to my bursting delight, thrust the large ring of antique keys into my hand - "you can hold the keys to the church" - as he took the camera. He backed away to shoot the picture, rejoined us, and handing back the camera, cheerfully invited us all to their house! Loli smiled with gracious equanimity, and we went.