Wednesday, September 9, 1998

Question: What do you do when you arrive in a third world country via airplane at 4:05 AM without a hotel reservation? This was the main question running through my head as I boarded the Miami to Lima, Peru United Airlines flight. I wasn't particularly worried, but it was definitely a concern.

Lucky for me, the Stacey Keach look-alike in the seat next to me had the answers. Stacey is an mining company executive specializing in South America. His bodyguards would be meeting him at the airport and would definitely be able to suggest a hotel. After a few hours of uncomfortable sleep (despite the fact I was flying first class) we landed in Peru. South America, finally.

True to his word, two blue pin stripe suited gentleman with walkie talkies met Stacey. Quick introductions, and then I headed to the line for general immigration. Stacey and his men quickly corrected me - we were escorted through the "diplomat" line. Good start to the adventure, I'd have to say!

A few minutes later, I was in a Keach-goon hand-selected cab on my way to a hotel guaranteed to give me early check in and well within the price range. The Kamana hotel was fantastic for the price, and the staff was more than happy to see me - even at a few minutes after five.

I slept for a few hours and awoke at around 11. A quick shower (hot water!) and I was out the door with no real plan or idea of what I would do. I decided to just head toward one of the main squares and see what would happen. Along the way, I changed some money.

I got to the main square, Plaza de Armas, at just a few minutes before 12… Just in time to see the Buckingham Palace style changing of the guard ceremony. A little band of red and black dressed military personnel belted out the slightly off key anthems, the crowd (most school children in matching uniforms) clapped dutifully. Pure galantry, but definitely worthwhile.

Plaza de Armas and the Presidential Palace

After the guard was changed, I was approached by Julio. Julio spoke a little English, and introduced himself by asking the time. Next question: "Have you seen the catacombs?" Next thing I know, I'm being "guided" to the Catedral San Francisco to see the catacombs. They weren't far, and I knew which way to go, but Julio insisted that he didn't have much to do and would show me the way.

We arrived at the Catedral just in time for the pseudo-English speaking tour. Of course, Julio asked if he could come on the tour as well so that he "could learn to speak English more better." I couldn't argue with his logic, so I paid for his ticket as well (10 soles, about $3).

The catacombs hold 25,000 bodies - and I got my first glimpse at mass burial. Not a pretty site, as I'm sure you'll agree. Julio was suitably impressed, but if he learned any English at all it wasn't from the guide.

Outside the cathedral, I admired the architecture, tile work, and the fountains. A young teenage girl walked up and asked if she could pose for a picture with me. Sure, what the hell, I like being treated like a movie star - it's one of the joys of travel. So, we posed, and then she asked for my address so that she could write to me and send a copy of the picture. At least that's what Julio, now firmly attached to my hip, told me she said. I gave her my address.

"Where do you want to go next?" my trusty (but not yet trusted) guide asked. Well, I read the Museo de Oro (the gold museum) is not to be missed, so I asked how far it was. "Very far." To far to walk, I asked. "Very far. Taxi is better." But, I know that most people in third world countries assume that foreigners don't like to walk. I like to walk, so I asked how many minutes to walk. "30-40 minutes from here. You like to walk? I like to walk. We walk." And we started walking.

Along the way, we made mandatory stops at the main Cathedral, a few minor ones, always getting me a "Let's Go" from my impatient guide who was starting to annoy me. We walked. We walked some more. We came across a very long table of chess boards - manned by locals waiting for a game. Of course, I stepped up to the plate and paid my 1 sole for the priviledge of getting beat in under 20 moves. I played a little known defense known as the Knight & Rook Sacrifice for Obscure Positional Advantage but shortly after the sacrifice, I lost the line and shortly thereafter the game. Julio was not impressed: "You gave up your horse!"

We walked. We stopped for freshly squeezed orange juice. We walked. "How many minutes to the museum?" I asked. "Maybe 30 minutes from here," he answered. We'd already walked over an hour. "It's very far," he added. Yeah, I gathered that. So, we hailed a taxi and drove about another 10 miles to the museum. Very far, indeed. I paid the $5 for entrance fees.

Inside the museum, we met Tim, a very well traveled guy from Half Moon Bay, California. He warned me of Julio -- seems that Julio got the guy arrested and then robbed him while he was in jail... Pretty sneaky! So much for Julio's confidence game -- too bad, too, I was really beginning to like him!

So, back to the Kamana and "Asta" to Julio. After a quick nap, I walked the streets of Lima (main streets, at least) in search of food and excitement. Found the food, missed the excitement. Though, I did meet some 6 year old street performers and had a pleasant time with them for an hour or so of "La Bamba" and other related songs. The kids drew quite a bit of attention (and made quite a bit more money) with me sitting there clapping for them and dancing in the street. I made a spectacle out of myself, but it was for a good cause.

Thursday, September 10, 1998

Woke up late today and headed out for an early lunch. Found the Plaza de San Martin and a local food joint where I had quite a good chicken sandwich. Seems like every single restaurant in Lima specializes in some kind of "pollo".

I didn't really have any good ideas for what to do, so I decided to hit the only "must see" museum (according to the guidebooks, at least) in Lima -- the Museum de la Nacion. Indeed, it was fascinating, but they don't allow cameras so I can't really show you. Suffice to say that the exhibit of the ancient Inca site called the Temple of Sipan rivals that of King Tut in Egypt for magnificent gold, silver and jewels. I'm surprised it isn't more famous. The English speaking guide did an excellent job explaining the significance of the findings and the history of the people that Sipan ruled.

The rest of the museum was not so interesting, however, except the part that overlooks the National Ballet Company. They were rehearsing for a performance, and it was very nice to watch for an hour or so. After the museum, I decided to just start walking and see what I could find. The Museum is quite a long way from the city (almost as far as Museum de Oro) and I had no idea where I was, but the afternoon was young so I just set out.

An hour later, I was really lost and decided to take a taxi because my limited Spanish didn't allow me to interpret what were sure to be very complicated directions back to my hotel. I took a taxi to Miraflores, the Venice Beach of Lima. All the people who are important hang out in this little suburb having coffee, walking in the park, and being seen. I was seen in the trendiest cafes drinking the trendiest coffees as well.

After a light afternoon snack, I was reading a bit and really feeling part of upper class Peru when two young University girls walked by and smiled. I smiled back. They kept walking. Oh well. A few minutes later, they were back and sat down at my table. Clearly, they were impressed with my choice of cafes. Or, they just wanted me to fill out some questionaire about tourism in Peru for their university class. Ah well, the fantasy was fun while it lasted.

After cafe, I set out on a mission: a Peru patch for my favorite sweatshirt. I visited every single sporting good store in Miraflores with no success. Finally, I was directed to a store called Poco Loco -- they didn't have a patch, but they had some iron-on lettering and I got the bright idea of applying some of them to the shirt. The result was quite good, I believe.

I headed back to the central square and came across a Miraflores delight -- the public dance. Seems every Thursday night they have a dance in the square. I sat down in one of the few vacant seats and was quickly asked to dance the Samba by a short old lady named Maritza. Maritza was enthralled, and as the only gringo on the dance floor (and almost a foot taller than anyone else) I was quite a spectacle. Not to mention the fact that my Samba technique leaves something to be desired.

Soon, the dance floor cleared and it was just me and the dashing Maritza twirling to the delight of the 500 or so people watching. Maritza was enjoying the attention and began dirty dancing with me when they changed the music to, you guessed it, Lambada. My Lambada is much worse than my Samba, but Maritza made up for it with an almost sinful display of hump and grind. This 60 year old really had some spunk!

After a roaring round of applause, I sat down and caught my breath. Seated next to me was a charming young girl named Jessica. Jessica was very friendly, and despite my Spanish skills we managed to talk for quite some time. Her parents died in a car accident a few years ago and she's now living with her aunt. We took a picture together.

Jessica spotted some younger girls in the crowd and was determined to get them to dance with me -- I think she felt that Maritza was quite a bit too old. She did the introductions and soon I found myself talking to three young ladies, Jimena, Carla and Rosemary. Jimena spoke almost perfect English despite an utter lack of education. Married with Children, Friends, Seinfeld, ER, The Simpsons, and about twenty other shows taught her the language. We had quite a good time -- I bought them all ice cream (including Jessica) and then bid them farewell. A good day of travel, I thought, as I hit the bed around midnight and prepared for leaving Lima.