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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