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Published: November 27th 2005
November 18, 2005 (Lima, Peru)
Shannon: Greetings from Lima! Sean and I arrived here in Peru on Tuesday and we’ve spent the last 4 days exploring all that Lima has to offer. We are staying in the Miraflores district of the city, which is a somewhat “upscale” area that was probably once a separate city altogether but has since been swallowed up in the sprawl of Lima. The immediate thing that hit us upon arrival was the change in weather - it is so much cooler here than in Panama that it was disorienting at first. Whereas Panama was HOT (I think the Devil himself winters in Panama City), Lima in November is something more akin to a San Francisco spring. Cool breezes blow in off the Pacific coast and when the sun goes down we definitely need our fleeces to stay warm - quite a change considering that we are still well within the Tropics at approximately 12 degrees latitude. Mind that I am not complaining - a balmy 68 degrees is just fine with me.
The other unexpected thing (for me, at least) is that Lima is in the middle of a desert. Previously when I’ve thought
of Peru, my mind conjures up a vision much like the pictures of Machu Picchu - a mountainous country, very green and shrouded in mist. Peru actually has three very distinct regions: the mountainous Andes, the Amazonian lowlands and the arid coastal region. It’s the latter that really surprised me. Flying into Lima, I expected it to be mountainous and green; in reality it is one constant shade of brown - essentially large barren hills that roll right into the Pacific Ocean. Miraflores is a bit of an oasis, though - there is a lovely park that we eat our breakfast in each morning as well as a nice promenade at the top of the cliffs along the ocean.
Since our arrival, we have been putting our feet through the paces and walking everywhere. Our first destination was the Parque del Amor, a very Gaudi-inspired park set high along a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The centerpiece of this park is a huge statue of a man and a woman in a warm embrace, appropriately titled
The Kiss. We got there just as the sun was setting, and in keeping with the nature of the park, we stole a
few kisses beneath the statue. When in Rome, you know…
We’ve also been to most of the major tourist attractions and even some not-so popular attractions. One that would fall into the latter category was the Museo Taurino (Bullfighting Museum). Not exactly thronged with people (they had to turn the lights on for us), it was interesting nevertheless. Or at least I think it was interesting. In addition to turning on the power, the museum worker also gave us a very nice guided tour in Spanish. He was very animated (he obviously liked the subject) and spoke in rapid fire Spanish, never pausing to give Sean any time to translate for me. And boy, did he have a lot to say. So as he talked and Sean kept nodding and murmuring “muy interesante”, I was left to wonder in frustration “What? What’s so damn interesting?” Eventually he left us alone long enough for Sean to relate most of it.
Sean and I originally decided to go to the museum with the thought “How often do you get to go to a museum of bullfighting?” I was glad we did, though I’m not sure if I completely understand how
Pastry Cart
Lima is filled with theseit is supposedly “all about the beauty” as the museum worker claimed and Sean later translated. The museum itself wasn’t particularly spellbinding (perhaps because I didn’t understand most of it), though it did have some interesting paintings and drawings (a Picasso even - though I doubt very much that it was the original they were letting grow mold). But it was worth going just to hear the passion that this man had for bullfighting and the happiness he seemed to exude that we were interested in the museum. He even brought out a matador’s cape that Sean used to pose for a picture and also introduced us to the mother of a famous bullfighter (who just happened to be hanging out there). After the tour he showed us the bullfighting ring and encouraged us to attend the next event (we wouldn’t be in Lima at that time, though).
Sean: My first comments on Peru are about my very favorite subject in the world (although Shannon has just informed me that after the visit to the Parque del Amor, I must reorganize my priorities). Anyway, it seems everywhere in Lima there are street vendors selling very tasty dishes. My favorites
are the army of men and women who ply the streets with their bicycle carts selling pastries (because everything tastes better wrapped in doughy goodness). Sweet to savory, they’ve got them all and with a price range between $0.30 and $0.60, you just can’t go wrong. I’ve had most everything in the display. Some of my favorites are the ham and cheese croissants and the chicken and beef filled calzones. (Note from
Shannon: The absolute joy in his eyes whenever he spots one of these carts is like that of a 5-year old at Christmas. He doesn’t just love food, he
lives for it. It occupies his first thoughts in the morning and probably his last thought of the night. A good meal, especially if it’s good
and cheap, will not just make his day - he will talk about it for a week. He will still be talking about some meals even
years later.)
In Kennedy Park (which we’ve renamed “Fat Kennedy Park” because the statue is quite chubby so we’re not sure if they’re honoring Jack or Teddy) they sell churros (deep fried dough doused in cinnamon and sugar) and a curious sweet that is inherently Limeño
Big Bad Bus
Two levels, fully reclining seats and all the really bad American movies you can stomach (what people from Lima call themselves). It’s a cup full of a rice pudding with a large amount of what I can only describe as a berry pie filling (they type of fruit used is indistinguishable but it’s probably in the sugar family as that’s the only identifying flavor).
It seems that the Limeños, and I’m sure the rest of the country, have a passion for food that makes me feel quite at home. The only dark spot on this shining star of a topic is the ceviche. We both absolutely love ceviche and, of course, being a Peruvian dish, were excited to get some while we were here (and it is available everywhere). Unfortunately, the prices are quite high, compared to the other offerings available. I was hoping, because it’s not that expensive in the States, you could shovel it in your maw for pennies on the dollar here. The prices are about what we pay at home, so we’ve only had it a couple of times.
Shannon: One thing that we
have found to be a very good deal are what they call the “Menu” at most local eateries, which is basically a set three-course meal.
Pisco Sour
National drink of Peru. Pisco is a liquor made with grapes They are geared for professionals and students during the day to get them in-and-out of the restaurant quickly, so you mostly find them for lunch, though we’ve had “Menu” dinners as well. They basically consist of a first course (typically salads, soups, or some sort of appetizer) followed by a second course (typically a meat or fish dish with vegetables) and a small dessert (fruit or Jello are popular). With a drink included (either juice or soft drink), they really are a great deal at about $2.00 - $3.00.
A few other interesting things about food in Peru - when eating at any restaurant, Sean and I never get our meals at the same time. The server basically just brings things out as the cook finishes them, and it’s obvious that the cooks cannot be distracted by preparing two things at once. It’s not bad, just quirky from what we are accustomed to in the U.S. and we’ve learned to just share things as they come. Also, the paper napkins that they give you with any meal are ridiculously small. The first meal we had, I tried to place it on my lap, but it just looked ludicrous. They
Spinach Pastry
My tummy was filled with these would make a perfectly good blanket for a Barbie doll, but as napkin -
not so much. Sean and I decided that they must not eat very messy food in Peru.
November 19, 2005 (Pisco, Peru)
Shannon: Having seen most of what we wanted to see in Lima, Sean and I left today bound for a small city on the coast called Pisco (which shares it’s name with the white-grape brandy with which they make Pisco sours, the very popular national cocktail). We traveled aboard the “Royal Class” bus for the 4 hour journey, in what is easily the nicest bus I’ve ever been in. These buses have two levels with wide, spacious seats that recline to at least a semi-horizontal position. They show movies, of course, and give you drinks and a sandwich. The clientele are obviously all gringos, as the price is 2 or 3 times what you would pay going “economico” (for the 4 hour trip Sean and I paid about $24 total). When making the arrangements in Lima we weren’t given the choice of which class we wanted, the woman at the ticket counter just automatically selected Royal Class for us. It didn’t
matter that much to Sean and I, since we had read about these buses and were eager to see what they were like (in advance of the 14+ hour bus ride we expect to take to Cuzco later this week). It would have been a stellar trip had it not been for some sort of electrical malfunction the bus had - we ended up stopping several times, then driving very slowly the rest of the time, but finally managing to limp into Pisco about an hour late.
And then there were the touts…
Sean: Before we go any further I must take you down a very dark path. This subject is not for the faint of heart, but in keeping with the honesty of these submissions from the road, I feel I have a duty to show you some of the darker elements of traveling. It’s difficult as a traveler/tourist to really fit in anywhere that’s not home. We’ll never be locals in any of the places we’re visiting (even with 5 years of “hanging our hat” in Louisiana, it was obvious to any real New Orleanian that we weren’t
from there). While knowing Spanish helps immeasurably to
Our Escorts
They took us all the way to Isla Ballestas get a better feel for the places we’re visiting, this knowledge will never mask our blue passports. Let’s just say that as we lumber and waddle off the bus, with our SPF 80 white skin, packs on our backs that look and weigh as though we’ve tried to abscond with an army of small children, and highly technical clothing that’s devoid of any natural fibers, we are obvious marks for the touts and hustlers who’ve come to ply their trade. They can see us get off and are anxiously awaiting our exit (it seems there’s some kind of hex or voodoo curse put on the station so they can only hover just outside the doors). As we put ourselves together - adjust the straps, recheck the guide book, etc. - you can see them salivating and pacing back and forth along the outside doors like hyenas in a zoo knowing they’re about to get fed. So we steel ourselves, heads down, and rush the line of defense that blocks the doorway. Then it’s into the scrum of people shouting at us. It’s disorienting. Day turns to night as the crowd around you grows thicker with the smell of desperation. You
Everybody get in Formation
Who doesn´t love penguins? keep walking. “Where you staying? I have nice hotel”, “Do you want tour? Very cheap price to see (fill in the blank)”, “Where you from?”, and my favorite “Canada-America very good” (they can instantly tell we’re some kind of North American, and don’t want to offend). The questions are coming at you rapid fire now and just in case they mistake your ignoring them for your being hard of hearing, don’t worry because they’re shouting at you from only a few feet away. They’re now shoving all kinds of brochures in your hands and when you politely refuse, they become more agitated and excited as you’ve now exhibited some kind of life and they’ve broken through your icy exterior. They’re on you more now. The sharks are in a frenzy. The shouting becomes more intense. You dodge, weave, slow down, speed up, you play dumb, you ignore, you try to engage them but no matter what you do, you can’t shake them. Like a bum on a bologna sandwich, they’re on you.
Unfortunately for them, the guide books are quite comprehensive so you don’t need someone to show you how to get to your hotel. You see, they work
on commission and whoever brings you to a hotel or a tour agency gets the commission that comes out of your bill. So it seems fairly ludicrous for us to pay someone to “bring” us to the hotel we were planning on visiting anyway. But there is no deterring them. They are not only fighting us, but fighting each other to take us to the same hotel. They know exactly what the
widely popular Lonely Planet series says (some have even photocopied and highlighted the pertinent passages and have posted them in a clear protective sheet in a 3-ring binder. Yes, it’s that serious) and they’re just clinging to a sure thing. The odds are weighed heavily in their favor that you’ve got the most recent copy of the guide book and you’re going to one of the top picks.
I’m still trying to find the exact things to say or do that will deter them. There’s got to be some right mix of ignorance, knowledge, engagement, and just plain fast running that can deter the jackals. I’ll get back to you.
Shannon: While Sean’s on the subject, let me add another observation. The whole western idea of
salesmanship in these countries is completely lost - whereas we are accustomed to people trying to win our business with pleasantries, the exact opposite method is employed by the touts. The going thought must be that if you are just annoying
enough, it will get you the sale. Perhaps they believe we will part with our money just to shut them up, or maybe that they will wow us with their sheer persistence - I’m not sure. The same method is employed by cabbies. They honk their horns to get your attention and ask if you want a ride. If you politely decline, they honk some more and keep honking, following at a close pace,
just in case. It’s as though they believe that their magic 15th honk will somehow wake you up to realize “oh, yeah, I
do need a cab, don’t I?”
November 20, 2005 (Pisco, Peru)
Shannon: Today Sean and I had a very pleasant day taking an organized tour to some small islands off the coast - Islas Ballestas, described in the guidebook as the “poor-man’s Galapagos”. Having never been to the Galapagos Islands, I have no way to compare, but we did
Inca Kola
I´m sure the Incans brewed it in huge vats get up-close and personal with a lot of animals, chiefly sea lions, penguins and about 2 billion other birds. The sheer number of birds was astounding, to say the least. According to the guidebook, the birds produce so much guano (said to be 50 meters deep in places) that during the mid-19th century, it was Peru’s principal export - it was used for fertilizer throughout Europe and America. (
Sean: The stench of all that guano and the noise from all those animals hits you long before you get to the island) And who doesn’t like to take pictures of penguins and sea lions, so what’s not to love? The tours use small speed boats holding roughly 20 people, so they are maneuverable enough to get very close to the rocky cliffs. Sean and I both got some excellent movies, though unfortunately this site does not have the capabilities to post them. Hopefully the pictures will convey some of what we saw…
The remainder of the day was spent walking around the small town of Pisco. I suppose that, other than the touts, the only negative thing I can say about Pisco is its unfortunate location near a fish meal factory. Most of the time, you can’t smell it. But when the wind is blowing in just the right direction, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Arriving in town last night, we didn’t smell anything. But just as we were dozing off to sleep, I asked Sean “what is that smell?” I think he took it as an accusation until he poked his head above the covers and got the full brunt of it himself. It smelled like canned cat food and it was so strong you would have thought it was in the room with us. It wasn’t until we drove out to take the tour today and we passed the factory that we realized what we had been smelling last night.
Otherwise, Pisco is what I would consider very typical of small town coastal Peru - very ugly concrete and block houses built on dusty streets with a plethora of stray dogs and Inca Kola signs (the Peruvian soft drink and the only regional competition we’ve seen for Coke. It is a decidedly unnatural shade of yellow and tastes like bubble gum). We happened to come on a very good weekend, though, as the town was having some sort of festival (we never figured out what it was about - something connected to the local middle school is all we know). They had a small parade last night and had a nice little stage set up near the town square with food vendors close at hand (as you can imagine, Sean sampled from every booth).
We are now on a bus headed for Nazca, home of the famous Nazca Lines. More about that later…
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quique
non-member comment
cuzco will change your mind
cuzco will change your mind, yes Pisco is a very poor town and for that reason people behave like that, like wolves, I can tell you because I have traveled a lot in my country. I'm sure cuzco can helps to forget those not so good times and in the end I'm sure you will come back home full of very good memories. just enjoy the ride