After our trip, we all had kind of a slow morning. I came out to learn Anabelle discovered some weird French superhero show, Miraculous Ladybug, in Spanish before I got there. I awoke to find Ladybug flirting somewhat antagonistically with a boy dressed in Julie Newmar’s Catwoman outfit. Little did I know how much those adventures would expand into our consciousness.
We read some more of the Disney story, adding in extra “YAY!”s as appropriate.
Rested up, we went out to catch a bus for La Punta. Three people stood up to help Abuelita in and get her a seat. An action that simultaneously once more showed the awesomeness of Peruvian people, and made up for the fact that the vehicle took off while one of my feet was still on the sidewalk.
Rosa and Anabelle’s solo adventures established that our favorite, El Mirador, had dropped dramatically in food quality since our last adventure.
We dined at El Cachalote. Rosa and her mom had mixed seafood with rice; my concern about snails on the plate led me to stick with the shrimp only version of that dish. Anabelle remembered having crab with fried yucca there last time. We also asked about Coke Zero since we couldn't see into the fridge.
Despite none of the items she ordered being on the menu, the insane levels of Peruvian hospitality outshone itself once again, and Anabelle got exactly what she ordered.
There was crab, though not whole ones, in other menu items, meaning putting them in the fryer was understandable. However there was no yucca in any shape or form listed. I'm not sure where it came from. Possibly a completely different establishment, since they actually went out to a store to buy a bottle of soda and brought it to us!
The background music was mostly disco, except for a bit when a little old guy came in and sang beautifully. Given the culture, it’s equally likely that he was the owner, he was hired, or he was just passing through.
They went out to hit the D’onofrio cart while I was distracted taking an artsy fartsy picture of a flower I noticed outside the window. I could try to be impressive and say I was being good by avoiding the ice cream cart…but they didn't have any flavors I liked.
We walked around the square in the area, taking in the ocean sights. There was a sand volleyball court, which of course had been converted to a teeny soccer field.
There was also an Up the Lake ladder built my either my Grandfather, my Uncle Ackie, or Robert Schumi, magically transported to South America.
The bus did the same takeoff trick it did on the way home, but I was primed and ready for it and used the momentum to spring into a seat. Kids were kicking a soccer ball around when we got near home (expected) and playing with pogs. (Much less expected)
We checked some furniture sizes and weights, read a little (napped a little in my case) and brought out the Disney dolls again. This led to more Disney story reading and “Yay” annotation.
Anabelle and I played a little more Uno. My forgetting to say the name of the game twice in a row when I had a single card was a good sign I hadn’t fully recovered from our mountain adventure.
To keep from going to bed before sunset, we all took a walk together to pick up the laundry. On the way home we stopped at a copy place to let Anabelle’s tour guide game expand. There was a stop at a pharmacy as well. I learned that you could buy a single pill there, which they’d bring you with a glass of water. Anabelle informed me we were in a “tough area” making me excessively glad I was holding a large, flowery bag full of clothes.
Rosa had exchanged more currency than originally planned, and was doing a Soles count, while we read a bit before eating. Anabelle had egg sandwiches while Rosa introduced me to “Mountain Cheese.” I spent the entire vacation trying to determine its nature, asking what animal it came from, how it was made, etcetera. All I was able to divine was it came from the mountains.
I had a sandwich with it, turkey and some fresh tomatoes. Given the inability of my gringo physiology to process the water there, and all fruits and vegetables being washed with that water at any food supplier outside of the house, the tomatoes in my occasional Mountain Cheese sandwich were the only things keeping me from going through “salad DTs” with my cardiac disposed diet.
We dipped into the chocolate from Cuzco, and realized we’d forgotten the travel doctor told us the altitude pills would alter our taste buds. Now that we were off them, the quality of the confections dropped a bit.
Rosa had been looking into a superhero themed restaurant for us to try. Fortunately, all that looking revealed some recent food poisoning situations before we booked our visit.
We settled in to watch some Addams Family listening to the sounds of a series of Blues Brothers like announcements about an upcoming soccer game, projected from vehicles cruising down Abuelita’s pedestrian only street.
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