I´ve been in Lima for a week now, and will have to stay until Friday to pick up my new debit card. I can´t wait to move on and start travelling again, but it has been a fun week. Below are the highlights.
The trip starts poor. Melissa, my traveling companion and romantic interest, changed her mind at the gate. There were several reasons for this, but mostly it was my fault. I couldn´t act like I was comfortable being just her friend and instead I acted like a jealous and frustrated suitor. It´s probably for the best she didn´t come since it´s obvious I have deep feelings for her, but even a week later I wish she was here. So I left for Lima heartbroken, lonely, and for the first time scared. I´d expected to travel the first few weeks in the comfort and familiarity of a friend and loved one. Now I was really on my own.
My connecting flight was in Mexico City and as the plane made it´s descent I glanced out the window. What I saw was astounding. El Ciudad de Mexico is home to 35 million people and nicknamed the Monster City. It was easy to see why. The sprawl began behind the few mountains (which looked volcanic, or otherwise sites of massive excavation) and then continued, and continued, and continued until the plane was over the airport and all you could see, in every direction and as far as the horizon, was the sprawl of the city. In the center was a strip of sky scrapers over a wooded street but there were outcroppings of similar buildings all over the city like patches on a worn quilt and each one declaring ¨the city continues.¨ I´ve never seen anything as collosus.
My flight from Mexico City to Lima was delayed, and two hours later it was canceled, the only flight that day. I ran back through security to the check in line. In the chaos that followed I learned how lost I could truly be in a sea of Spanish. It was over an hour before I overheard a word of English. ¨Thank you so much!¨ gasped the mother and I rushed over and asked what she´d been told. Apparently, if I was willing to come back the same time mañana I could catch the same flight to Lima. She helped me sign up and I tried to figure out how I would spend the next 24 hours. The airport hotel cost $190 (about 2600 pesos) so I decided to sleep in the terminal. My next move was to wander around looking for someone who looked like an Enlgish speaking traveller and that´s how I bumped into Devin. He was a student in Argentina after transfering from Penn State. We walked a little into the city for cheap tacos (2 for 10 pesos, which is a little less than a dollar) and he helped me brush up on some basic Spanish. At 11pm he left for his flight to Buenos Aires and I spent two hours trying to sleep on the cement steps/benches in the terminal. It didn´t work. I gave in and got an almost $200 hotel room, and you know what? It was a great idea. I was still heartbroken and lonely but after a very long hot shower and a night´s sleep in a king size bed all to myself I was ready to continue on. God, I felt great the next morning. That is, until I went to buy coffee and found that my debit card was denied.
I called the international number they´d provided me (which only cost me 5 pesos a minute from the hotel. For the life of me I couldn´t figure out how to use the calling card Melissa had given to me.) and found out that a fraudulent transaction had taken place in Hollywood while I was in Mexico. They denied it, refunded my money, but I couldn´t lift the hold on my card as long as someone else had the number. In the end I lifted the hold for 20 minutes, went to the atm and took out 4000 pesos (about $250. Also I need to note here that I didn´t exchange it for American dollars before going to Peru so when I finally found an exchange place that would take Mexican pesos they charged me a third of the money in the exhange. The lesson here is US currency is strong always so don´t take chances.). Then I boarded the plane and flew to Lima, Peru. I ordered a new card to be shipped to the hostel I´m staying at in Miraflores, Lima, Peru and after three attempts I´ll finally be getting it in two days.
Story 2: Lunch
I love menus. These are set priced meals offered for lunch that include usually an Entrada and a Segunda plus a drink (sometimes dessert is included as well). So far I´ve paid anywhere from s/7 to s/14 (about $3 to $5) a meal, but the first meal I had was the best so far (and only s/11).
The entrada was ceviche which is raw fish lightly cooked in a bath of lime jiuce (citrus acid) and spices, and it´s also delicious. The segunda was a meal of fried fish and squid covered in a buttery sauce and served over a bed of rice. It too was delicious. And the drink was Chicha morado which has become a personal favorite. It´s a corn drink that tastes like berries and has a thicker consistancy, almost like jello before it coagulates. The add cinnamon or clove and the effect is the drink tingles your tongue and better cools your mouth after a spicy meal. It´s really wonderful. It also happened to be a hot day, which they´ve almost all been so far (in the 80s and humid). I could tell I was getting sunburned and had walked for several miles exploring the area and working up a sweat. Obviously I needed a good beer and for only seis soles more I bought a cerveza grande (630 ml) that topped off the meal. I included a tip since the waitress was very patient with me attempting spanish while flipping through my pocket dictionary and still all total I paid s/20 (about $7.50).
Story 3: The Dead de Lima
My second day I went out with Natalie, an Ausy friend I´d met the day before, to the ruins of Huaca Pucllana and to the Iglesia de San Francisco. Both were inexpensive and well informed tours, though I´m not really a tour type of guy, but at the top of the ruins was a good view of Miraflores and in the catacombs of the church were thousands of skulls and femur bones piled in pits some of which were 10 meters deep. Awesome, right? But the two greatest take aways were an understanding that Peruvians respect their indegenous ancestry, from the Lima people, to the Waris who conquered them, to the Incas who then conquered the Waris, and that the Lima peoples´ view of death had changed from the indegenous belief that the soul was attached to the body to the Catholic belief that death releases the soul from one´s body. If the Lima or Wari people had been piled like those in the Catholic church it would´ve been a dishonor and an attempt to rob them of an after life. It was a fun contrast to discover completely coincidently.
Story 4: Water and Light in the City
If you come to Lima you have to visit the Magic Water Circuit. 2nd world my ass. Near the center of Lima is a new park of fountains that is sure to entertain all age groups. From ones you can run through (yes you will get wet) to ones you can walk under (no you don´t have to get wet) to ones of epic scale that grow and change and jump and dance. But by far the greatest show that evening combined the use of water and light. Lasers used the constant streams of water to project images. A large portion of this show was dedicated to several Peruvian dances and the dancers, projected onto the water, appear as ghosts in the mist. Worth the s/4 entrance fee and the s/10 cab ride I split with two others. Smiles all night.
Story 5: A Night in Barranco
This is a similar story to many we´ve all had, I´m sure. A group of us went out bar hopping. We hoped to find salsa but instead found LMFAO. I party rocked in Lima until the first of us fell asleep at a table and we all went home. It was a fun night.
Story 6: The Cliffs of Miraflores
My friend Hasib and I decided to walk to the water, which neither of us had seen yet, after a large lunch with a group of friends. We didn´t have our cameras which was dissapointing because it was the most beautiful day of the summer. When we reached the cliffs overlooking the ocean we were even more upset to have forgotten our cameras because everyone else in Miraflores had also realized it was the most beautiful day of the summer. But the images are burned into my memory.
A sky full of paragliders. For s/150 you can tandem paraglide off the cliffs and I´m considering it once I get my new debit card, but on this day everyone was coming out to ride the updrafts off the ocean. There must´ve been more then 50 of them dotting the sky infront of me. One more launched every minute. First the strap themselves in, then they open up the chute and heft it into the air, immediately the wind takes it up and they brace themselves so as not to leave the ground. They walk towards the edge of the cliff and sway and jump. They fall no more then ten feet before they´re lifted up, up, up and over the land again. It was an amazing site to see, and yet there was more to come.
Further down the park, for the cliffs are one giant park which I´ve yet to walk to the end of, a group of caballero fighters had formed a cirlce and gathered a crowd. Caballero is a Brazillian form of fighting that masks itself as a dance. During the time of slavery it was illegal for the oppressed African people to have a way to fight back so the practice of caballero had to be hidden. Using a stick, a string, and a stone to adjust the pitch and by adding clapping and hand drums the caballero fighters created musical instruments and then chants to play and sing and trick the slavers. While the slave owners saw only a dance the slaves practiced martial arts. The practice looks like two people break dancing, their moves playing off one another, but these moves are really kicks, blocks, strengething poses, and grappling moves. The group in the park this day were of all different skill levels and ages. A large man, 250 pounds easy, was capable of hand stands and flips. A young boy of around 9 could hand spring into a round house kick. And every now and then two equally matched fighters would actually engage and break from the circle to wrestle it out on the grass. Always the two opponents and friends would hug it out and return to the circle. But the most amazing thing was how the circle began as a class, all in the same uniform, and grew as more and more strangers joined, all of whom entered the circle and fought/danced.
The park continued and continued as we passed more groups of talented people. A skate and bmx park was filled with Peruvian youths jumping, ollie-ing, and grinding along rails, dirt jumps, and half pipes. A drum circle with dancers performed by the edge of the cliff just past the skate park. And other groups of mixed ages practiced break dancing and a form of martial arts involving rolling techniques.
The day ended with a sunset over the ocean and a sky of red and orange clouds in a bed of pinks and yellows. And I still can´t believe neither of us had a camera.
Story 7: Surfing in Lima
Miraflores is a coast of pebble beaches and small but steady waves. Surfers are always out and about and for s/70 anyone can get a surf lesson and 3 hours of rented gear. I went with a group of 4 and so we cut a deal for s/60 a piece. I was given a wet suit, booties because of the pebble beaches (though I wish I hadn´t so my feet could´ve felt the board more), and a 9 foot board. The wet suit was difficult to put on until an American intern gave us plastic bags to put around our feet so they would slip right through. It worked like a charm. Her name was Jackie, and she had a distinct Long Island accent so I asked her if she lived near West Islip where my cousins are from. Turns out she was from West Islip and used to swim with my cousin Olivia. Small world.
The lesson began with a short run and a series of stretches and then we formed a circle around a bench. Our instructor, Carlos, showed us on the bench how to lie down, paddle, grab the board and lift yourself up when a wave came so as not to get a face full of board or salt water, and most importantly how to stand up. The trick is to take your back foot and bend it against your other knee so that the back side of your foot is against the board. Then you lift your chest up like you´re practicing yoga and with your other leg you plant your foot in front of you and stand up. It is not as easy as he made it look.
The water was warm yet refreshing from under Lima´s hot sun. The wet suit was unnecessary. We paddled out and out and out about 200 meters or more from shore. One at a time we would lie down facing the shore until our instructor told us to paddle and then we´d launch into a furry of strokes as we felt the wave reach us and lift us. At the last moment our instructors would give us a push and tell us to stand up and we would react in a chaotic spasm, our front leg coming forward, our back leg bending to the knee, and then we´d stand and fall off into the wave. And this is how it went everytime for me, except once, when I listened to my teacher and took my time. ¨Chill, Etan. This is surfing. This is feeling.¨ I heard stand up and rather then rushing into an awkward position I slowly brought my back foot forward, lifted my chest, placed my front foot on the board, and stood up. I was surfing. I rode that wave all the way into shore until I realized the pebbles beneath me would hurt and threw myself off into five feet of water, hitting my feet on the bottom but no more. I think it´s safe to say I´m hooked.
All four of us stood up that day, but none of us could last three hours. After only an hour in the water we´d paddled ourselves into a comforting exhaustion. Our shoulders ached from paddling, our necks ached from keeping our heads up, and the next morning my back ached from lifting myself off the board over every wave. It felt great. I can´t wait to take up surfing when I return to California.
Keep it coming. This is good stuff.
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