My friend Jesus Rodas was a hardworking dairy farmer from Lima, Peru.

But life changed when he answered his country’s call to duty and joined the Peruvian army.

Assigned to the Middle East, Jesus was part of a multinational military security force positioned in Baghdad to protect the Iraqi Embassy.

He also served in Afghanistan and elsewhere.

After a tour of duty, his life changed yet again. He decided to follow his dream and travel to America.

Around that time we became pen pals thanks to the Internet. Cyberspace makes our large world much smaller.

Jesus and I communicated regularly for a few years and became friends.

Eventually, we decided it would be fun to meet.

So last week he came to see Pennsylvania for the first time and to stay for a few days. I was happy to welcome him because he was no longer a stranger.

We simply were old friends who’d never met in person.

He arrived just in time for October foliage. Greeted by a rainbow of color, he summarized the season in two words with his accent: “Is beautiful.”

Jesus speaks English at a certain level but is more comfortable, naturally, with Spanish.

We ordered takeout dinner from La Dolce Casa.

He was impressed by the restaurant’s holiday lights and decorations, a project still underway.

While waiting for our meals, we spent time with staff.

He received a warm welcome in Spanish from bilingual employees. I’m sure the gesture made him feel at home.

Another highlight was taking Jesus to Hometown Farmers Market.

I think he was surprised to see the size of the place and the number of regional shoppers.

As we walked along, he overheard various discussions spoken in Spanish.

“It’s Mexican,” he said. Apparently the Spanish spoken in Peru is different from that of Mexico.

As we walked through rows of outdoor vendors and then inside both buildings, it was interesting to see him take it in. I’m guessing he was comparing it to bazaars of his homeland.

Afterward, it was lunch stop at The Beacon Diner.

I made sure Jesus tried a popular, ethnic dessert of warm, honey-glazed baklava. It was new to him.

“It’s Greek,” I said. “Very special because it’s made with paper-thin phyllo dough.”

Truth is, it’s also Turkish and might even date back to the Ottoman Empire. But it’s not Peruvian, so he found it unusual and liked it.

Before leaving Tamaqua, Jesus wanted to get a military buzz cut, his favorite haircut.

So I took him to Great Clips.

To our surprise, both stylists on hand spoke Spanish. Gosh, he’s lucky, I thought.

Or maybe people named Jesus have better fortune than the rest of us.

Whatever the case, the world is truly becoming more interconnected and homogenized. And because of it, Jesus felt at home in Tamaqua.

And one other part of the trip evoked thoughts of home.

Going south on Route 309 at the top of the Blue Mountain, he looked to his right and saw the panoramic view of farmland and fields, looking like a patchwork quilt as far as the eye could see.

“This looks like Peru,” he said with surprise.

All in all, the visit was a learning experience for both of us.

Before leaving, Jesus extended an offer to take me to Machu Picchu.

It’s a mysterious 15th century Incan citadel high in the Andes Mountains.

He wants me to see it. He wants me to experience his homeland. And he wants to return the hospitality.

I’m not ready to leave tomorrow.

But I just might have to give it some serious thought.