Peru 2014 Index
I started the day by getting in trouble at breakfast, which was totally not my fault.
I started the day by getting in trouble at breakfast, which was totally not my fault.
The Spanish translation
of “Sliced Bread,” proudly labeled on the loaf’s packaging was “Pan de Molde.”
It is apparently bad
form to begin the day with a series of “moldy bread” jokes.
The tradition of them
shopping in well stocked, but un-big-goofy-white-guy-friendly places while
Anabelle and I watched Looney Tunes took a stronger foothold in the morning.
Rosa and Abuelita
returned, bringing supplies that proved a point about the United States and the
metric system. Pretty much the only metric
usage that has taken hold in this country is the two liter soda bottle. In Peru, and presumably other places where
they understand how insanely illogical the “English” system is, they have soda
in every metric sized bottle BUT two liters.
The one place we’ve adopted the better system, we still do it wrong.
We took a bus down to
the ocean. This was a momentous day
since Rosa spent a great deal of time at the La Punta beaches growing up and
was eager to share it with her child. It
was also a momentous day because we learned about a mode of transportation that
could be more terrifying than Peruvian Cab rides.
Some of the buses were
called combis. Nice name, but they were only
converted minivans with extra seats shoved in. I didn’t have a prayer of
wedging into one of those, forcing us to wait for a transport big enough to fit
me. Once boarded, the four of us were
taken to the ocean, often with three buses alongside each other jockeying for
position on the two lane road. Peru was
trying to institute forced use of bus stops, but most passengers still hailed
the buses like a New York cab by getting the attention of the person who hung
out the door screaming in Spanish.
For those of you with
linguistic skills that match mine, “the person who hung out the door screaming
in Spanish” is not the literal translation of their official title: Cobradores.
We arrived in time for
lunch. Rosa and Abuelita used their “Ceviche Sense” to select the proper choice
out of the myriad storefront seafood restaurants - Cachalote.
Rosa had a Jalea Mixta (fried mixed seafood), while
Abuelita enjoyed an Arroz Mixto
(seafood mixed with rice).
I had Arroz con Ebirah. (Perhaps not the proper title, but the shrimp in my rice were easily large enough to give Godzilla a good fight.)
I had Arroz con Ebirah. (Perhaps not the proper title, but the shrimp in my rice were easily large enough to give Godzilla a good fight.)
Anabelle couldn’t find
what she liked on the menu. This led us to discovering how incredible service
can be in Peru. The waitress asked what
she liked and basically prepared an “Anabelle Special.” Crabs and Yucca may sound simple, but aside
from the generous helping of fried root vegetable, there were three full
crabs. The waitress immediately came
over when she saw Anabelle (and I) struggling with the shells and cracked them
all open for her. In doing so, she
earned herself a well above the Peruvian national average tip when we finished
our giant and excellent portions.
To get a closer look at the ocean, and colonies of the crabs Anabelle had devoured in their natural habitat, we strolled down a boardwalkish path. The wooden trail went along the shore to an overlook restaurant perched on an outcropping.
To get a closer look at the ocean, and colonies of the crabs Anabelle had devoured in their natural habitat, we strolled down a boardwalkish path. The wooden trail went along the shore to an overlook restaurant perched on an outcropping.
Gulls, pelicans and some
sea raptor soared above us. I tried
finding out more about the birds of prey, but my limited Spanish coupled with
the guard’s limited knowledge of taxonomy led to answers that distilled down
to, “They’re birds.”
Rosa explained they
referred to the ocean’s appearance at that time of year as being, “Sick.”
Translation: Instead of the brilliant
blue Pacific it usually is, its grey/green coloration and consistency matched
the Atlantic as seen from New Jersey all year round.
Leaving the sea edge we
passed through a skate park until Rosa started making a series of
unintelligible, excited and nostalgic noises.
We found a small pack of
Donofrio carts. Peru is highly proud of
its national brands. This is the reason
Coke bought Inca Kola. Peru was the only country in the western hemisphere that
Coke couldn’t claim being the number one brand in. The soda giant had to purchase the local
favorite to get completion on a technicality.
Donofrio was the Ice cream of choice there, and the carts, stores and
freezers were everywhere. The carts looked
like the illegitimate love child of beer cooler and a tricycle.
We purchased some frozen
wares, and also some other unintelligible, excited and nostalgic noise
producing snacks from the cart next to it, Barquillos. Picture a slightly
flakier, but empty, cannoli tube.
Passing through a
seminary neighborhood brought us back to the town square, where we sat at a bus
stop for a while. Many buses came, but the wait was due to us needing a vehicle
I could fit in.
Back home, we played a
bit while waiting for Conchito, the woman who used to cut Rosa’s hair when she
was a kid. Anabelle was taller than
Concho, but Conchito's arrival made it clear she was deserving of the “ito”
designation on her name to differentiate the two.
Did I mention not
blending in well in Peru?
Rosa got herself a
nicely nostalgic haircut.
There were two solutions
to visiting areas where it wouldn’t be safe to bring the Super Deluxe Magic
Camera or high end SmartPhone to take pictures.
The first was to bring our old cheapo digital camera.
There was one flaw in
this solution:
Occasionally, the full
battery charge, and/or all the pictures, would spontaneously vanish from the
camera.
This is why all the
ocean pictures posted today are “recreations” taken on subsequent days of the
trip.
(No actual locations
were harmed.)
Our other solution was
using disposable cameras.
That would work about
equally well.
There was a long
involved debate in Spanish with the small gas water heater, but finally the first
shower conga could happen.
The rest of the evening
was spent organizing, Looney Tunesing, and arguing with the air mattress.
The batteries in the
inflator didn’t have enough power to push against the backpressure of the
mostly full, but not quite full enough, queen sized inflatable floor bed Rosa
and I shared.
Eventually I exhaled
into it for a while to fill it up, leading to enough light headedness to insure
a good night’s sleep.
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