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Published: October 2nd 2005
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Downtown Lima
This is near one of the bus stations in the historic center. You can see the colonial style balconies on the yellow building in the background. A day before leaving Seattle for Lima, I stopped at Magus Used Bookstore and picked up a volume titled "An Area of Darkness" by Nobel Prize Winner U.S. Naipaul. The author, a Trinidad-born Indian now living in London, recounts his first trip back to India, where he was, in a sense, assulted by the sounds, smells, and attitudes he enountered there. As I follow Naipaul´s journey into places both familiar and exotic, I am comforted to know that there are others who have been stricken as I have by situations that at times make no sense at all, and by landscapes and people that are at once beautiful and imperfect.
My very first impression of Lima, upon stepping outside of the airport at 11 pm was "It smells like fire." And the sky was indeed orange. But there was no fire; a million dim city lights illuminated the ever-present clouds above, and the smell emanated from thousands of cars and buses with sickening emissions. Jaime, the hotel driver, had come to pick me up at the airport. After going through customs, which is relatively simple and quiet, you step through a doorway; beyond are ten pretty women in dress suits
shouting at you to go this way or that, which hotel are you staying at, do you need a taxi? They are not official airport workers, but are privately employed, and their job is to confuse and snag tourists at the very first opportunity. It took me just a few seconds to figure out what was going on, and I quickly passed them through another door, where two hundred people waited with little signs, each spelling out a name. They came from hotels, and I had to study each sign to pick out my name.
Eventually I found it, and my driver was Jaime, a quiet and kind young Peruvian. Driving for a half hour through Lima, he described each neighboorhood or district, and pointed out the important landmarks...a monument here, a casino there. Until reaching the city center, there were no stoplights, no lines separating traffic, and so signs designating streets. We drove quickly (and one might say recklessly), firstly because there are no police to monitor traffic rules, and secondly, because there are no police to ensure that we would not be robbed in any one of these poor neighborhoods. I was not robbed, although I later
The Plaza de Armas
This is Lima´s main square, and the main tourist attraction. learned of a traveler who had everything taken from him at gunpoint by a taxi driver at the Lima airport.
There are 27 million people in Lima. When I stepped out of the hotel for a walk on the first day, I felt like there was not enough room for all of them, and that each one was either honking their car horn or shouting at me to tell me so. Lima is noisy, and crowded, and dirty; everyone was shouting at me or honking to try to make a cabfare or busfare. But they shout at everyone, not just Gringos. In the district of Miraflores, there are traffic lights, but that doesn´t mean it´s safe to cross the street. Cars and busses rush past no matter what the light reads, and pedestrians cross when they have a split-second´s opportunity. I learned to follow closely behind a Limeño, and to cross when they crossed.
In Lima, as in other parts of the country, typical dishes include some combination of meat, vegetables, rice, and beans. One such dish is Lomo Saltado, which is stirfried beef, potatoes, onions, carrots, and other vegetables served with rice. A main dish, plus a
On the Other Side of Town
One of the many poor neighboorhoods, on the outskirts of town. huge bowl of chicken soup, plus juice costs 5 soles, or about $1.50. And the portions are huge, so it´s not difficult or expensive to stay full. In Miraflores you can find McDonald´s or Kentucky Fried Chicken; you can even find pizza or an Irish Pub, but you´re going to have to pay American prices to eat there.
After transfering to a hostel, I met many people from around the world, although only one from the States. I met one person named Sebastian, and we travelled together for the next two weeks. A Swiss-Peruvian, he was travelling in Peru managing several education and conservation projects in the jungle, all funded by the Swiss government. Over seven years, he has taken volunteers to places like Manu Park to work with indigenous people, to educate young people about waste management and sometimes to teach English. This time he was making one final trip to a city called Pucallpa, to make a final review of what progress had been made there over seven years. Two others intended to come to Pucallpa but they opted out in the end because they didn´t have Malaria pills. So it was just Sebastian and me.
The Police
The Plaza de Armas is one of the only places in the city with a heavy police presence. Unfortunately I don´t have a lot of photos from this time period because my battery charger shorted out, and I had used all of the batteries I had on the Ellensburg Rodeo 😞
Busses are the main mode of transport, and the quality is better, I would say, than Greyhound in the US. There is even a waitress who serves you lunch and who gives you a cotton ball with alcohol to ease your altitude sickness at 8,000 ft. The terrain from Lima to Pucallpa is beautiful. You pass towering peaks and rivers far far below; small mining communites in the middle of barren landscape, where tiny children with rosy cheeks play soccer with their older brothers and sisters; isolated lakes; and finally, dense jungle.
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