A misplaced llama in Lima
After getting our fix of soaring condors (actually, after the condors left and we had nothing else to look at), we headed back into our van and returned to Arequipa. I, again, slept a good amount of the ride, but, man, we got up early. Back in Arequipa, I had a few hours in town and then headed to the bus terminal. Getting on the bus, they checked me with a metal detector and made me put my thumbprint on a seating chart. Where’s this coming from? Then, just before we left, a man came through with a video camera, filming me as he handed me a survey to fill out about the service on the bus. This was the Presidential Service…I was definitely paying for this! Music was playing over the intercom as we boarded, and they showed a safety video as we pulled out of the station, like on a plane. They served coffee and a sandwich, nuts, and some sort of sweet thing. The attendant set up English subtitles for the movie for the few of us white people (mind you, this was an American movie, dubbed over in Spanish, and now with English subtitles). I’ve never been catered to like this on a bus; this is definitely not how I imagined buses in Peru. The best part was that the bus was nearly empty, and I had a whole 2 seats to myself to stretch out on, under a nice blanket, which was provided…pure luxury.
At around 7:30 in the morning, we were awoken with soft music playing over the intercom again, and a small breakfast was served. As I looked out the window, it was all sand. As we got closer to Lima, little housing developments (shacks, more or less) started to pop up on the sand dunes. Soon enough, we were in Lima. I was a little undecided on where to stay in Lima (in the center, where nothing happens, and has been described as a “toilet” by one, or in the suburb of Miraflores, one of the richest parts of Lima, but is that really Lima?) I grudgingly decided to stay in Miraflores and, for the sake of budget, had to stay in a hostel. This was the first time I had been in a hostel, sharing a room with others since way back in Sao Luis, in Brazil, about 3 months ago, and I was not particularly excited about it. My mood was progressively getting sour. I got to the hostel (found I had the room to myself, which I proceeded to stink up with my smelly boots), and without taking a shower, washing my face, brushing my teeth, or any of that, I left and just wandered.
Everything here was exceedingly American, commercial, cosmopolitan, whatever you want to call it. McDonald’s, Burger King, Pizza Hut, KFC, Dunkin’ Donuts, The Athlete’s Foot, Paul Mitchell products in salons advertising fake nails. Hell — in this one mall there was even a s! I found a grocery store and walked in. These are always favorites of mine. I giggled as I entered upon seeing the lush produce section, with all their picture-perfect fruits and vegetables stacked neatly and kept moist. I think the security guard was keeping an eye on me after that. The meats were in coolers, and the cheese section, ooh, the glorious cheese section…Even the personal toiletries section looked amazing, with the white illuminated shelves. I walked around for maybe 30 minutes, looking at everything, checking to see if they had those “special” items I’ve been craving, and walked out buying nothing.
I was going to head to the center of town that night, which was Thursday. It was the last day that the presidential candidates were allowed to campaign, and there were three rallies all next to each other, with two of the top candidates (Lourdes and Alan). But, in my laziness (which has become a reality these days), I did nothing.
The next day I walked down to the beachfront, where I met a surfer dude who was very intent on giving me surfing lessons. Not interested…too cold, and sure never imagined myself learning how to surf in all places, Peru. Apparently, it’s pretty popular in Peru, but the wetsuits put me off. I found out that the whole country was now dry for the weekend, given the election on Sunday…apparently they want clear heads for the voting booths. This was a severe disappointment to me, as I thought, here I am in a proper city with proper bars and clubs and I can’t even drink. The s were coming soon to visit, and my tolerance was definitely in the gutter…how would I keep up? This was the perfect place for me to boost it up a bit, and now the whole country was dry. Nice.
I walked along the shore to find a little place to get some ceviche – the national coastal dish of Peru. I had been warned by Vanessa not to eat it unless I wanted to land on a toilet for a significant period of time, but I managed to escape this one unscathed. It was pretty good – raw fish (who knows what kind), marinated in lemon. I walked around a bit more and spent the evening doing laundry (first time I’ve done my own laundry in a laundromat the whole trip…I was way overly excited, but it might have had something to do with the liquid fabric softener). I got home that night around 1, and my 2 new roommates were still not home. The one, I found out later had been out drinking. How? The whole country’s dry! I was assured that some places make exceptions on Friday night, but Saturday night, for sure, everything would be dry.
On Saturday, using the internet, I had a confusing exchange about a newspaper with some kid, who then invited me out to lunch. He paid, which was all nice, but he was not interesting in the least bit, perhaps a little strange, so I left him to go check out some ruins right there in town. That was probably the most interesting part about the ruins, was seeing them right smack in the middle of the city. I did nothing more that day or that night. I told you I’m getting lazy.
The next day, sure enough, I find out that the one had been out again all night. Argh! How was this happening?! Anyhow, it was now election day, and after 4pm (when the polls close), the country would once again be off the wagon. I left that morning to go visit the local man selling newspapers, but he wasn’t there. The whole city was . Hardly any of the shops were open. It was election day, and you could feel it; everyone was off to do their national duty, although, I can imagine, they didn’t really see it that way. Everyone I passed on the street, I figured they were heading to go vote; they probably were, if they hadn’t already.
I went with a from the hostel (Adriana, from Buenos Aires, Argentina) to a museum, which had a fabulous display of ceramics from the many different cultures in Peru. The best part of this museum was their ceramics display, showing all sorts of combinations of men, women, animals, and skeletons touching, fellating, and copulating with each other. Their primitive look made them hilarious, but it was really amazing to think some of these were thousands of years old. Ancient ceramic !
After the museum, we met with Adriana’s Peruvian friend, Carlos. We got some Chinese food and were in the restaurant at 4:00, poll closing time, and they announced the first preliminary results of the election. Ollanta (1st), Garcia (2nd), and Lourdes in 3rd, meaning, if these results stood, she would not be in the runoff. Lima was hugely pro-Lourdes, and I sensed some major disappointment. I was actually in some state of disbelief myself. What was interesting as we walked around the city was looking at everyone’s left middle finger. The left middle finger is dipped in ink (I remember this symbol from the first Iraqi election), presumably to prevent double-voting. Everyone’s finger was blue…a sort of national-duty scar.
I was going to leave the next day, but decided to stay in order to check out some places in the city center, which I had neglected to do, due to my laziness. Adriana and I went together…we walked through a park, where I saw the largest goose I’ve ever seen in my life. On our way looking for some museum (something like that…overall, it was disappointing), we were invited in to an old firestation, where the firemen (with nothing more interesting to do…they’re all volunteers), showed us around, took our pictures on an old firetruck as well as a new one, and dressed us up in their helmets and jackets. Those helmets are heavy! I had a hard time holding my head up.
We later headed to this church/convent that’s famous in Lima for its catacombs underneath the church. There were bones and bones and bones (human bones, that is) all piled up in strange arangements…very unnatural and a bit unsettling. From the catacombs, we whispered stuff through some grating in the floor to the church to play games with the churchgoers (Help me….I’m trapped down here)…it was fun.
We continued from there to the Plaza de Armas – the main plaza. It was beautiful. We hung around a bit, so we saw it at night as well, and it was even more beautiful with the lights on the builings around it. We also walked down to the Plaza de San Martín (San Martín was the liberator of Argentina, Peru, and Chile), where we sought out the main statue. It wasn’t the statue of San Martín we were looking for…it was the goddess lady in front of him. Apparently, whoever ordered the statue to be built wanted her to have a crown of flames. Well, the word for flame in Spanish is llama, which, as it looks like in English, is also the word for the animal llama. The statue of the lady now has a llama resting on top of her head. I just wonder what the initial reaction to that was.
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Tania