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Published: September 10th 2009
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El Farolito in Lince district Sunday morning 08/30/09 we got up and got ready to be picked up, but Monica and Beto were running a bit late. Being low on cash, we decided to kill time by going to the nearest ATM, get dollars, and exchange them with a “Cambista,” a man or woman who wears a bright vest with a big “$” in the back to indicate that he/she exchanges money (dollars/euros/soles), right there on the street. They usually stand near the entrance to a bank or ATMs, and because cops are always stationed outside banks and ATMs, it’s normally a safe transaction. Besides, Cambistas give you the best rates, better than banks, exchange houses, or ATMs (if you get Soles). With this done, we met up with Monica and Beto and headed over to El Farolito in the district of Lince. Beto and Monica had said that the restaurant had been a popular place for a long time, but that after Gaston Acurio, a popular Peruvian chef, owner of restaurants in and outside Peru, with a TV show and cookbooks, went to eat there and endorsed the restaurant, the place became even more popular. Just so that you get the idea, Gaston Acurio is
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The mother of all deep fryers to restaurants what Oprah is to books: She reads one, proclaims that she likes it, it becomes a bestseller. Well, Gaston, you were right.
We got to El Farolito around 11:30am; the place was more crowded than your Micky D’s during morning rush hour. The outside tables were full, so we tried going inside. The tables inside were full too, but we had been told that a family was finishing up, so we kinda hovered over them (it was tight between tables too) until they left. To me, an indication of a good restaurant is that it is full and full of locals. So far, so good. We ordered the Farolito Platter, which comes with Chicharron (Deep fried pork), Relleno (Blood sausage), and slices of fried Peruvian sweet potato (this is NOT a yam) enough for six people. Separately, we ordered Tamales de pollo (Chicken tamales), fresh-baked rolls, and our individual drinks: Coffee, juice, sodas. The Chicharrones were tender and crispy at the same time, juicy, with just the right amount of fat to keep the meat from drying out while it’s fried. The Relleno was delicious, really flavorful. And the sweet potatoes, dense and sweet, as they should
be. The tamales tasted just like Peruvian tamales should taste like: The corn mix is wrapped and cooked in banana leaves, which gives it a special flavor. Ben and I commented that, if it wasn’t for the weight gain, we would love to eat like this every Sunday. Limeños don’t eat like this every Sunday, though, just on special occasions, which by true Peruvian culture, are never too far apart.
After breakfast, Ben, Cathy, and I took a taxi to La Punta, a town in the peninsula you see in satellite maps of Lima. Growing up, my family frequented the beaches of La Punta, which were closer to our home than those of Miraflores or Barranco. The town now has a resort town feel. It’s very safe and well kept. The cops and guards that walk around know who’s a resident and who’s a visitor and most residents know each other.
My family had actually lived in La Punta in a house that was right on the malecon, facing to ocean, (malecon is better described as a plaza, rather than a boardwalk—the site of the block where the house sat is now part of the Peruvian Navy Base)
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Getting the pork to the fryer to make chicharrones up until I was six months old, when we moved to the house where I grew up. There are many family pictures taken from the early to late 60s in La Punta, including at the Cantolao beach, which had always been a favorite of Dad’s. When Dad died two years ago, my siblings and I scattered his ashes in the ocean, according to his wishes. Cantolao beach was a natural choice.
So, as soon as we got to La Punta we headed over to the pier from where the boat rides depart. We hired a private boat and headed out. I had asked the boat “captain” to stop at the spot where we had scattered Dad’s ashes two years prior. It was a very nice day, unseasonably warm for the middle of winter, so warm that we had shed our sweaters and there were even people bathing in the famously freezing waters of this beach.
The boat ride was nice, it was very tranquil as we sat on the boat and Cathy and I placed a couple of tiny flowers in the water and remembered Dad (I’m not religious, so I don’t pray). I was glad we had
taken the boat ride and “visited” with Dad.
We then took a bus towards the malecon, getting off a few blocks before reaching it, to go to the Cantolao beach. Cathy had been there a couple of years ago with me, but it was Ben’s first time. I told them that I used to run on the stones barefoot, something I doubt I could do now. We went down to the water; Ben skipped a few stones and Cathy started collecting them. I had to remind her that we couldn’t bring so much weight in our luggage, so she trimmed her collection down to a few, small ones, including a few shells. I touched the water and it wasn’t as cold as I recalled it to be. Due to the Pacific currents next to Peru, the water around La Punta has (had) always been really cold, drinking-water-from-the-fridge cold. This day, it appeared to be just cool at best. Was it due to climate change? By looking around at the people enjoying a sunny day at the beach in the middle of a Lima winter day, which was supposed to be overcast, damp, drizzly, and—next to the ocean—windy, it sure
appeared to be the reason. But we enjoyed the weather, nonetheless.
We headed over to the malecon, while wondering what it would be like to live in one of those houses right on the beach, be up on your little terrace, sipping Pisco Sours, looking out to the ocean, enjoying the breeze. The fishing boats in front of Cantolao would be gone in the summertime; they retreat to another area of La Punt, so one has an interrupted view of the ocean. The malecon turned out to be off limits, as much needed renovations are underway. So we headed over to a cousin’s house, Yola, just a few blocks away. Sadly, her Mom, my Dad’s older sister, had passed away just a couple of weeks prior to my arrival in Lima. It was a short visit by Peruvian standards, but we got to take a few pictures and Cathy got to feed my cousin’s little Shi-Tzu. After the visit, we headed back to Miraflores; our time in Lima was running out and we still had some things to take care of before our flight early Tuesday.
We headed over to the Artesanales to get a few more souvenirs
before the shops closed. We dropped the things off at the condo, then headed over to get dinner at Manolo’s, a trendy café on Larco Avenue. The sandwiches are so varied, some of them are right down humongous, but they all looked so good. Ben and I ended up ordering the same thing: A sandwich that had pieces of chicken in spaghetti sauce, all topped in melted cheese. It almost tasted like pizza; very good. Cathy had Churros con chocolate (Churros taste like doughnuts, but are long and rolled in sugar and may be plain or stuffed with chocolate, dulce de leche, Bavarian cream, etc.). The “chocolate” turned out to be melted chocolate; I thought it would be cocoa (for drinking), but Cathy wasn’t complaining. To drink, Cathy had fresh strawberry juice and Ben and I had Chicha morada.
After dinner, we headed over to Vivanda, an upscale grocery store, mostly to browse and look at fruits and vegetables not sold in the US. Then, we headed back to the condo and called it a night.
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